It is a well-known fact that airport luggage carousels are just an illusion, that the baggage is actually carried from the cargo hold to the revolving platforms by giant alien snails with no sense of direction.
Maybe it was not a well-known fact, but it was Mulder's latest theory as he waited for two suitcases to come through the chute. Scully had gone off to deal with the rental car. "A big, manly man like you can handle the luggage, can't you, Mulder?" she had asked with an airy wave of her hand as she disappeared into the vast throng of people in the anonymous airport.
That had been forty-five minutes ago, and he was still waiting. He sighed heavily, leaning against a concrete pillar and counting the ceiling tiles again. Suddenly a brown flash attracted his attention; it was his scuffed suitcase coming toward him. With a possessive gesture he lurched forward and took the ragged handle. Scully had pleaded with him to get something more recent and dignified.
"Honestly, Mulder, that poor beat-up case is an eyesore and an embarrassment."
"Scully, I bought this back at Oxford. It cost a fortune. How could it embarrass me?"
"When it finally splits open and spills your undies all over the baggage carousel, don't you dare come whining to me."
*That shows how much you know, Scully,* Mulder thought. *Mine's still in one piece, but yours...
...oh, God...*
The demure beige case, advertised as being able to withstand a truck running over it, had been demolished by the baggage-handling snails. It rested in an unseemly gray plastic bin, Scully's possessions scattered all over it.
Mulder snatched the container from the carousel and inspected the bag. The latches had given but weren't broken. He picked up Scully's underwear (silk push-up bra, Scully?) and put it back inside. Her sensible casual clothing and toiletry kit followed. His hand came upon something he couldn't quite identify. It was cylindrical. It was rubber. It was...
"Holy shit!" Astonished, he tucked the vibrator far under the clothing and slammed the case shut. His face was a study in amused shock. Scully was 'packing.' He'd never let her hear the end of this.
He'd never live to tell. If she knew that he knew, he'd be dead.
"Mulder?"
He started violently, his head contacting the concrete pillar. "Ow! Yeah!"
"What happened to my suitcase?"
"It, uh, just turned up in the bin. Just like that. Someone must've re-packed it."
*And just when WERE you planning to use your equipment, Agent Scully?*
"Mulder, what's the matter?"
"Nothing. Just my head." He was talking too quickly, sending signals to Scully's radar. "I probably hurt the pillar more than it hurt me. Let's get on the road, okay?"
*****
The case had been a total wash-out, just as Scully had predicted. Mulder would have been annoyed at her snipes had it not been for the memory of the appliance he had found in Scully's suitcase.
*There has to be a logical, scientific, rational explanation,* he thought as he stared out the window of his motel room. He had earphones on and was listening to the Knicks game on the radio, trying to erase from his brain the idea that Scully was about to make use of what he had found. There was a knock on the adjoining door.
"Mulder?"
"Yeah. Come in." He slid the earphones down around his neck and turned to the door as Scully entered. "What's up?"
"Do you have any double-A batteries? Mine've gone dead."
"........."
"Mulder?"
"Uh...just the ones in here." He indicated his walkman.
"Can I borrow them? I really, really need batteries. Just for a little while."
"........."
"Mulder, ten minutes. Fifteen, tops. Okay?" She held out her hand with that no-nonsense look which had never seemed quite so ominous before. "I need to get comfortable, Mulder. You owe me for dragging me here at the crack of dawn." Mulder opened the back of his walkman, extracted the batteries, and handed them to his partner. She looked at him; his face was pasty-white and he was starting to sweat.
"You look like you're coming down with something. You'd better go to bed."
"Yeah. Umm..."
"I'll bring these back when I'm done."
"Oh, God..."
"Thanks, Mulder."
"Umm..."
She was gone. Mulder flopped face-down on the bed. "With my batteries, yet," he grumbled. "This is too much."
But it was only beginning. He heard a faint buzzing noise through the wall.
"You have GOT to be kidding." Even with a pillow over his head, he could hear the buzzing. In fact, it seemed even louder. He could hear Scully sighing happily.
All of the blood in his body went straight to his groin without passing 'Go' or collecting $200.00.
"That's so much better," he heard Scully whisper.
"No way! NO way!" he shouted. "Scully, stop that right now!" He barged through the door, his hair and manhood both standing on end. Scully was sitting on the edge of the bed in a pale-blue nightie, and in her hands was...
...an electric razor.
Fox Mulder fainted dead away, suffering a concussion that put him in the emergency room.
Dana Scully laughed so hard that she had to be sedated.
***
End
Feedback, if you're still speaking to me after this, is welcome at marguerite@swbell.net.
Return to humor.