Yes, this another story. No angst, unless you're one of those people
who reads angst into everything. Pure humor. Based on the children's
book by Judith Viorst.

Disclaimer: see 'The Disclaimer of All Disclaimers'; no serious 
            infringement of Ms. Viorst's book.

Rating: G. Fine family fun

Dana Scully and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
by
Tamani R. Green

   I went to sleep with chocolate in my mouth and now there's 
chocolate in my hair. And when I got out of bed this morning, I tripped
over my gun, badge, and the discarded shoes from last night. And by
mistake I dropped my *dry-clean only* jacket in the sink while the
water was running. And I could tell it was going to be a terrible,
horrible, no good, very bad day.
   At breakfast I burned the toast and there was no more bread. At
breakfast I had to eat a slightly stale bagel with light cream cheese.
And there was no coffee.
   I think I'll move to Australia.
   My car wouldn't start this morning and I had to take the bus to 
work. It was crowded. I was smushed. I said, "If I don't get off this
bus in a minute, I am going to be sick." No one even answered.
   I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very
bad day.
   At work, AD Kersch chewed me out for something that wasn't my fault.
   At lunchtime I got caesat dressing all over my suit and spilled 
root beer in my soup.
   I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very
bad day.
   I could tell because Mulder said I wasn't his best friend anymore.
He said that Skinner was his first best friend and Krycek was his next best
best friend and I was only his third best friend.
   "I hope you never find the truth and the little gray men come and
vaporize you, even if you hide all the way down in Australia," I said
to Mulder.
   And then the truth showed up knocking on the office door because it
had been out there all that time and was tired of standing there. And
I didn't even let it in.
   It *was* a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
   That's what it was because after work, I went to the dentist and
Dr. Fields found a cavity in me. "Come back next week and I'll fix it,"
Dr. Fields said.
   "Next week," I said, "I'll be in Australia."
   On the way downstairs, the elevator door closed on my foot and when
I went to go get the car, I fell down in a puddle of mud and nearly
got ran over.
   "I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day," I said to
anyone who would listen. No one even answered.
   So then I went to the shoe store to buy a new pair of black pumps.
I chose suede one with a funky heel and no toe. But the salesman said,
"We're all sold out." And I had to get plain old, narc looking ones
instead.
   It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
   There was nothing in my fridge except for some eggplant stuff my 
mom made me take home from Sunday dinner and I hate eggplant.
   William Shatner was on TV and I hate William Shatner.
   My bath was too hot, I got shampoo in my eyes, one of my pearl
earrings went down the drain and I had to wear my old, flannel, baby
blue pajamas to bed.
   I hate my old, flannel, baby blue pajamas.
   When I went to bed, I didn't have anything to read, my bedside lamp
burned out and I bit my tongue. 
   My mother called at midnight, just to talk.
   It has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
   My mother says some days are like that.
   Even in Australia.