Title: Bow to me!
Author: Agent Zephyr
E-Mail address: zephyr2@internetcds.com
Rating: PG for mild language
Category: Story, Humor
Spoilers: Existence (duh), Millennium
Keywords: Existence, Chris Carter worship
Archive: You betcha, just let me know so I can brag
Disclaimers: Chris Carter is not mine. Neither are the various fan groups or the XF characters. If you sue, you will be getting approximately 98 cents and a bag of sunflower seeds.
Summary: After "Existence" airs, the Almighty Creator God (a.k.a. Chris Carter) gets responses from his worshippers. Yeah I know it sounds stupid, but the fic is better than the summary (I hope).
***********************
Chris Carter woke up, not knowing what to expect that day. The episode that he considered to be his greatest masterpiece had aired last night. What would the response be? He changed into some long, impressive robes and left his bedchamber to enter the main Temple to the Creator.
His breakfast was served, as usual, by some of the hundred or so alien hybrids he kept around the place. A little Samantha clone delivered his mail. He smiled, thanking her, and opened the first letter. He only had time to read, "HOW COULD YOU?!" before it exploded in a huge fireball. He ducked just in time to avoid having all of the hairs singed off his head. Damn those noromos, the Creator God thought crossly.
"Hey! I thought I said I wanted these screened for flames!" he cried. "I am not going around with no eyebrows for a week like I did after the "Millennium" kiss!"
He quickly handed off the letters to one of the hybrids and stomped off, his appetite ruined. He just couldn't please everybody, he thought. He had chosen to please the shippers, simply because he feared them more. No, he thought, he had pleased them because it was his whim. The whim of a god must be obeyed. But was he a true god? Nobody flames a real god, he thought crossly.
"Samantha #142," he called. "Send a memo to the writers to add more Mulder/Scully shippiness next season. The noromos must be punished."
"But how can we, your Holiness, without Mulder on the show?" she asked.
"I don't know, have Scully talk incessantly about Mulder being a good daddy or something. Just do it!" was the Creator God's response. "And what's my schedule for today?"
"Not much, Holiness. For most of the day, you're holding an audience in the throne room to hear from the different factions of worshippers. But you do have a brief appearance at the Tomb of the Ratboy in about 15 minutes."
"I might as well go early," he said. "I have nothing else to do."
And with that, the Creator God strode briskly out of the temple and over to the Graveyard of Character Casualties.
For the most part, the graveyard was about the same as it normally was. There were a few flowers on some of the more popular dead characters' graves, such as Deep Throat and Max Fenig, and the usual spit and dog feces upon those of Diana Fowley and Cancer Man. But at the new, shiny Tomb of the Ratboy, there was a huge gathering of wailing fans. The bouquets of flowers almost covered the tomb. Some of the fans threw themselves on it, bawling about their poor little rat. As the Creator God approached, all eyes turned to him. Some looked at him in hate, some in sorrow, and some seemed simply to be silently asking, "Why?"
The Creator God smiled inwardly. He had been rehearsing what he would do for some time. He stooped down to place a single black rose in front of the statue of a three-legged rat the graced the top of the Tomb.
"Why did you do it?" someone cried out. The voice was soon joined by many more.
"It had to be done," Chris Carter said solemnly. "It came down to him or Mulder. Which would you rather see die?"
"Mulder!" came the unanimous response.
Time to try a different approach, he thought. "Have you never heard the phrase, 'nobody ever dies on the X-Files?' How do you know it was really Krycek who died?" he asked. "Would Krycek ever try to kill Mulder?"
The fans looked hopeful. "You mean he's not dead?" one asked.
"You shall have to watch the show next season to find out," the Creator God replied slyly. He looked around at the hope that shone through the pain on the Krycek fans' faces. "But that is not what I am here today to tell you. I am here today for a very solemn ceremony. As you know, Krycek's arm is kept in that glass coffin over there," he gestured to the left of the tomb, "in the event that we should ever have the opportunity to re-attach it. I think that Krycek should be buried in dignity, with all of his appendages."
The crowd cheered. Smiling, he led them over to the coffin, summoning two of the hybrids to lift and carry it over to Krycek's tomb. Another hybrid unlocked the door. Krycek's sarcophagus was brought out, and the lid removed. The crowd gasped. There lay their fallen Ratboy. The Creator God carefully removed Krycek's prosthetic arm and replaced it with the real one. He held his hands over the arm. There was a white flash of light, and Krycek was whole again. By now, most of the fans were crying. The sarcophagus was hauled back into the tomb, the door sealed, and the glass arm coffin taken away.
"What about his prosthetic arm?" one fan asked.
The Creator God smiled, then tossed the arm out into the crowd. He walked away with a smile as the fans fought over this rather odd souvenier.
*************************
Loved it? Hated it? Think I should be burned at the stake for blasphemy? Let me know!
Part 2 coming as soon as I can write it.
Author: Agent Zephyr
E-Mail address: zephyr2@internetcds.com
Rating: PG for mild language
Category: Story, Humor
Spoilers: Existence (duh), Millennium
Keywords: Existence, Chris Carter worship
Archive: You betcha, just let me know so I can brag
Disclaimers: Chris Carter is not mine. Neither are the various fan groups or the XF characters. If you sue, you will be getting approximately 98 cents and a bag of sunflower seeds.
Summary: After "Existence" airs, the Almighty Creator God (a.k.a. Chris Carter) gets responses from his worshippers. Yeah I know it sounds stupid, but the fic is better than the summary (I hope).
***********************
Chris Carter woke up, not knowing what to expect that day. The episode that he considered to be his greatest masterpiece had aired last night. What would the response be? He changed into some long, impressive robes and left his bedchamber to enter the main Temple to the Creator.
His breakfast was served, as usual, by some of the hundred or so alien hybrids he kept around the place. A little Samantha clone delivered his mail. He smiled, thanking her, and opened the first letter. He only had time to read, "HOW COULD YOU?!" before it exploded in a huge fireball. He ducked just in time to avoid having all of the hairs singed off his head. Damn those noromos, the Creator God thought crossly.
"Hey! I thought I said I wanted these screened for flames!" he cried. "I am not going around with no eyebrows for a week like I did after the "Millennium" kiss!"
He quickly handed off the letters to one of the hybrids and stomped off, his appetite ruined. He just couldn't please everybody, he thought. He had chosen to please the shippers, simply because he feared them more. No, he thought, he had pleased them because it was his whim. The whim of a god must be obeyed. But was he a true god? Nobody flames a real god, he thought crossly.
"Samantha #142," he called. "Send a memo to the writers to add more Mulder/Scully shippiness next season. The noromos must be punished."
"But how can we, your Holiness, without Mulder on the show?" she asked.
"I don't know, have Scully talk incessantly about Mulder being a good daddy or something. Just do it!" was the Creator God's response. "And what's my schedule for today?"
"Not much, Holiness. For most of the day, you're holding an audience in the throne room to hear from the different factions of worshippers. But you do have a brief appearance at the Tomb of the Ratboy in about 15 minutes."
"I might as well go early," he said. "I have nothing else to do."
And with that, the Creator God strode briskly out of the temple and over to the Graveyard of Character Casualties.
For the most part, the graveyard was about the same as it normally was. There were a few flowers on some of the more popular dead characters' graves, such as Deep Throat and Max Fenig, and the usual spit and dog feces upon those of Diana Fowley and Cancer Man. But at the new, shiny Tomb of the Ratboy, there was a huge gathering of wailing fans. The bouquets of flowers almost covered the tomb. Some of the fans threw themselves on it, bawling about their poor little rat. As the Creator God approached, all eyes turned to him. Some looked at him in hate, some in sorrow, and some seemed simply to be silently asking, "Why?"
The Creator God smiled inwardly. He had been rehearsing what he would do for some time. He stooped down to place a single black rose in front of the statue of a three-legged rat the graced the top of the Tomb.
"Why did you do it?" someone cried out. The voice was soon joined by many more.
"It had to be done," Chris Carter said solemnly. "It came down to him or Mulder. Which would you rather see die?"
"Mulder!" came the unanimous response.
Time to try a different approach, he thought. "Have you never heard the phrase, 'nobody ever dies on the X-Files?' How do you know it was really Krycek who died?" he asked. "Would Krycek ever try to kill Mulder?"
The fans looked hopeful. "You mean he's not dead?" one asked.
"You shall have to watch the show next season to find out," the Creator God replied slyly. He looked around at the hope that shone through the pain on the Krycek fans' faces. "But that is not what I am here today to tell you. I am here today for a very solemn ceremony. As you know, Krycek's arm is kept in that glass coffin over there," he gestured to the left of the tomb, "in the event that we should ever have the opportunity to re-attach it. I think that Krycek should be buried in dignity, with all of his appendages."
The crowd cheered. Smiling, he led them over to the coffin, summoning two of the hybrids to lift and carry it over to Krycek's tomb. Another hybrid unlocked the door. Krycek's sarcophagus was brought out, and the lid removed. The crowd gasped. There lay their fallen Ratboy. The Creator God carefully removed Krycek's prosthetic arm and replaced it with the real one. He held his hands over the arm. There was a white flash of light, and Krycek was whole again. By now, most of the fans were crying. The sarcophagus was hauled back into the tomb, the door sealed, and the glass arm coffin taken away.
"What about his prosthetic arm?" one fan asked.
The Creator God smiled, then tossed the arm out into the crowd. He walked away with a smile as the fans fought over this rather odd souvenier.
*************************
Loved it? Hated it? Think I should be burned at the stake for blasphemy? Let me know!
Part 2 coming as soon as I can write it.