Title: See Zlurb Run
Author: Jamie August
Disclaimer: Nobody is mine except poor little Zlurb. The rest belong to Chris Carter, 1013, and FOX. I may be one of the few people who actually returned CSM without killing him!
Summary: The Cigarette-Smoking Man writes a children's story! Be afraid, be very afraid.
A/N: I'm sorry. I really couldn't help this one. I thought this up while lying in bed one night at 4 am. It seemed funny then....
Archiving: Ask me. I've said yes to everyone so far. augustdragon81@netscape.net
***
See Zlurb Run
***
The Cigarette-Smoking Man sat in front of his typewriter, staring at the blank page and, well,
smoking a cigarette. He had decided it was time to write another story. After three days of
rolling the idea around in his head, he'd come up with the perfect pseudonym: Morley Meuss.
You see, this time around he'd decided to try his hand at a children's book.
So far, it wasn't going as swimmingly as he had hoped. The wastebasket beside the desk was
beginning to overflow with all the balled-up pieces of typewriter paper he'd discarded, most after
typing only one or two lines. He had ideas, but unfortunately they were blocked by his inability
to produce an opening sentence.
He sighed and lit a new cigarette, having smoked its predecessor down to the filter. Tapping ash
into the ashtray, he stared at the piece of paper rolled into the typewriter, willing the perfect
opening line to reveal itself to him. His intention was to write a story which would lead children
to accept the impending alien invasion. Although, truthfully, he wasn't fond of the term
'invasion'. He thought 'inevitable cohabitation' sounded much friendlier. 'Invasion' sounded so,
well, invasive.
The perfect opening line was apparently out to lunch. No help there. Tucking the cigarette firmly
in the corner of his mouth, he leaned over the keys, determined to track down his first sentence
no matter what.
Once upon a time, he typed, then shook his head and rolled the paper out of the machine. How
cliche a line like that was! He crinkled the sheet into a ball and dropped it into the wastebasket,
where it promptly bounced off the balled-up sheets of paper already there, creating an avalanche
effect that ended with a dozen balls of paper landing on the floor and rolling in a dozen different
directions.
He watched this in dismay, then rolled another sheet of paper into the typewriter. After another
moment of thought, he typed,
There once was an alien from Nantucket
He unceremoniously ripped the paper from the typewriter. Good lord, no! That sounded like
something Alex Krycek would write! Besides, this was supposed to be a children's story.
After performing the very familiar ritual of rolling fresh paper into the typewriter, he leaned over
the keys once again.
'Twas the day after the invasion
He paused, wondering if he should change that to inevitable cohabitation. Dragging on his
cigarette, he finally decided against it. It was too clunky. Knocked the meter off.
'Twas the day after the invasion
And all through the Earth
The aliens had landed
and were laughing with mirth.
He reread the lines and shook his head. No, he needed something original. However, this was
less terrible than some of the aborted attempts in the wastebasket. Instead of tossing this one, he
opened a desk drawer and carefully laid it inside. Perhaps he'd get back to it one day.
It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.
No.
Two species both alike in dignity,
In fair DC where we lay our scene,
From ancient invasions break to new mutiny,
Where alien goo makes human hands unclean.
Hmm. That actually had potential. After a moment, he shook his head. He wasn't sure who might
sue him on Shakespeare's behalf, but regardless of legalities, he was no plagiarist. All the same,
that sheet also went in the desk drawer.
Sam I am, I do not like grey aliens and ham!
I would not eat them on a boat
This was getting ridiculous. Waving his hand in front of him to dispel the wafting cigarette
smoke, he narrowed his eyes at the fresh sheet of paper.
See Zlurb.
See Zlurb run.
Run, Zlurb, run!
See Mulder.
See Mulder chase.
Chase, Mulder, chase!
See Scully.
See Scully doubt.
Doubt, Scully, doubt!
See the alien ship.
See the alien ship abduct.
Abduct, alien ship, abduct!
See the black goo.
See the black goo infect.
Infect, black goo, infect!
Huh. The Smoking Man pulled that one from the typewriter, gave it a once-over, and shoved it in
the desk drawer. He was capable of more. With that, he found himself back to:
Once upon a time
Yes, it was cliched, but it was also a tried-and-true standby. A staple of children's literature, if
you will.
Once upon a time, there was a little orphaned alien named Zlurb.
He had no idea if Zlurb was a name the aliens would really use. As far as he'd been able to tell,
they didn't even have names. But he had to use something. Alien Number One just didn't sound
right.
One day, Zlurb met a man named Mulder.
He paused. Should he change Mulder's name?
Mulder was a bad man who didn't understand aliens. Of course, after they abducted him and
stuck all those little hooks through his cheeks, who can blame him?
The Smoking Man frowned. Where had that come from? Nevermind. This wasn't turning out the
way he'd planned, anyway. With a sigh, he ripped the sheet of paper from the typewriter and
balled it up. With the wastebasket overflowing, he glanced around for another place to put the
paper. Finally he set it in the ashtray and held the flame of his lighter under it until it caught fire.
He opened the desk drawer and extracted the See Zlurb run paper. Reading it over again, he
decided it wasn't bad and rolled it back into the typewriter. Picking up where he'd left off, he
typed,
Zlurb is running.
Mulder is chasing.
Scully is doubting.
Where is the alien ship?
Uh-oh! The alien ship has abducted Mulder!
He smiled. This was going well.
* * *
The next morning, sitting in the basement office of the X-files, Agent John Doggett checked his
email. Upon opening and reading the attachment sent to him by
MorleyMan_2001@conspiracy.com, he immediately picked up the phone and called Scully. She
checked her email, where she discovered the same message had been sent to her, Doggett,
Mulder, Skinner, all three Lone Gunmen, and several addresses Scully couldn't identify.
There was no text in the body of the message, just a downloadable attachment. Scully spoke into
the phone, telling Doggett to hold on a moment, then opened the file, not sure what to expect.
What she found was this:
See Zlurb Run
by: Morley Meuss
See Zlurb.
See Zlurb run.
Run, Zlurb, run!
See Mulder.
See Mulder chase.
Chase, Mulder, chase!
See Scully.
See Scully doubt.
Doubt, Scully, doubt!
See the alien ship.
See the alien ship abduct.
Abduct, alien ship, abduct!
See the black goo.
See the black goo infect.
Infect, black goo, infect!
Zlurb is running.
Mulder is chasing.
Scully is doubting.
Where is the alien ship?
Uh-oh! The alien ship has abducted Mulder!
See Scully.
See Scully believe.
Believe, Scully, believe!
See Doggett.
See Doggett search.
Search, Doggett, search!
Who is he searching for?
Mulder!
See the Lone Gunmen.
See the Lone Gunmen hack into classified databases.
Hack, Lone Gunmen, hack!
Scully is believing.
Doggett is searching.
The Lone Gunmen are hacking.
Where is Skinner?
Uh-oh! He's going crazy from watching the alien ship abduct Mulder!
Poor Skinner.
Poor Mulder.
What happened to Zlurb?
Uh-oh! Agent Doggett shot him!
Poor Zlurb.
See the Smoking Man.
See the Smoking Man die.
Die, Smoking Man, die!!!
What happened to the Smoking Man?
I'm not telling you!
Triumph, Smoking Man, triumph!
Viva la invasion!
When Scully finished reading the email, she frowned and spoke into the phone. "Agent Doggett,
do you suppose any of the other recipients have seen this yet?"
"I'm sure we'll hear about it once they have." On his end of the line, Doggett shrugged. "What do
you think it means?"
"I'm not sure. It's very . . . disturbing."
"To say the least. Agent Scully?"
"Yes?"
"I thought the Smoking Man was dead."
Scully sighed. "Agent Doggett, if I had a nickel for every time I've heard that . . . ."
~~End~~