MR HAIRY-SIDEBOTTOM RULES!
NOTE: This is plain and simple comedy (trying to be), and thus I have blatantly sacrificed plot detail, characterisation and emotional involvement for shallow laughs. Or at lease I hope so…
CHAPTER 1: I HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED YET
You know when that day arrives and you have to pick your own surname because you've got to be an undercover wife and you're stuck with a half wit as a partner who thinks it's funny to have a name that's pulled straight from the pages of fiction? Well, Scully did, even if the average person has never yet experienced that fateful day:
'Mr Straford-Clydwith?' suggested Mulder
'No,' cut in Scully.
'Mr Hairy-Sidebottom'
'No' sighed Scully.
'Mr Potato Head?'
Scully answered his suggesting by hitting her head against the wall. Three long taps followed by a short tap and then another long tap. Which in lay-speech was Morse code for: 'No. You turd from my arse.'
'Mr Potato Head?' Mulder tried again with a slight inflection to the voice that was intended to fool Scully into missing the fact that she'd said no to this suggestion two seconds previously.
'No,' reaffirmed Scully.
Mulder make a mental note that although this trick had not worked here, or when he'd asked that Spanish lady from across the hall, who funnily enough only spoke Spanish, for some sugar, that it was still worth using later.
'Are you sure?' tried Mulder.
'YES' shot back Scully.
Damn thought Mulder, so it's going to be like that is it? She's playing a dangerous game, Fox, but you can beat her boy, yes you can, just believe in yourself, know that your heart is true and you are in control of your destiny. Never let anyone tell you otherwise Mulder-man. You are the man. Go forth and…
(EDITOR NOTE: In the interests of decency and all things dignified I had to cut the last 800 paragraphs of Mulder's self-praising and back slapping that led to the inevitable conclusion that he is indeed God. Anyway, entering back into Mulder's world)
'Okay, how about Mr Potato-Head, but this time its got a hyphen between potato and head.'
'You know what?' Said Scully intending to give him a piece of her mind - not too big though cos she'd already done that about five times already this morning and she had only got a kid's-meal sized portion left, which she was loath to waste on Mulder. Anyway,
'You know what,' repeated Scully 'you're just being stupid now, and if you've got no worthwhile suggestions, I'll just pick the name myself.'
Mulder kept quiet watching her silently, bitter at the fact that she thought he was only being stupid NOW, when he'd been trying to bug the hell out of her the whole morning. Boy, how he loved that woman - good old Scully.
Scully sat down on the chair behind her, regaining her composure.
'How about Phoenix?' Scully asked looking hopeful.
'Yeah' nodded Mulder 'the phoenix bird? It is said that only one phoenix can exist at any one time, and when one dies a new one rises from the ashes'
'Exactly,' commented Scully.
Mulder cocked his head to one side and looked at her in a reproachful manner. 'Scully you want us to be named after a stuffed animal out of fairy stories? Something that could be a cuddly toy won at the fair? It's a stupid name'
'And Fox isn't?' quipped Scully
'Okay, okay', Mulder put his hands up in defence, 'I didn't know we were getting personal here, Miss I-used-to-wear-baggy-trouser-suits-and-look-completely-repulsive-but-have-now-managed-to-find-more-fashion-sense-than-a-gremlin-in-an-exploding-icecream-factory. Mulder punctuated his sentence with a badly timed laugh and a clap of his hands.
Scully was turning red (two shades lighter than her hair though, which was fortunate) and shaking her head in astonishment. Too far Mulder. Way too far. You should have stopped at the slightly-disgruntled-but-still-willing-to-let-Mulder-live and not taken the cab to Top-of Scully's-list to-castrate-while-forcing-victim-to-endure-the-shame-that-is-the-Red-Shoe-Diaries.
'Mulder, I hate you! What is your problem today? I have had enough! I wake up this morning and I realise it's a bad hair day, then you mess me around with choosing a name, so much so, that I feel I'm halfway to gaining the skills needed for a kindergarten teacher and now you insult me on my dress sense?'
Mulder bit his lip.
'I don't believe you. I just can't deal with this today. And, if you really want to know I'm suffering from PMT'
She'd hardly finished the three dreaded letters before Mulder had fled.
'Yeah', chuckled Scully. 'Works every time, baby. Every time.'
By River.
Don't be a poo
Please review.
(It rhythms - get it ?)
NOTE: This is plain and simple comedy (trying to be), and thus I have blatantly sacrificed plot detail, characterisation and emotional involvement for shallow laughs. Or at lease I hope so…
CHAPTER 1: I HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED YET
You know when that day arrives and you have to pick your own surname because you've got to be an undercover wife and you're stuck with a half wit as a partner who thinks it's funny to have a name that's pulled straight from the pages of fiction? Well, Scully did, even if the average person has never yet experienced that fateful day:
'Mr Straford-Clydwith?' suggested Mulder
'No,' cut in Scully.
'Mr Hairy-Sidebottom'
'No' sighed Scully.
'Mr Potato Head?'
Scully answered his suggesting by hitting her head against the wall. Three long taps followed by a short tap and then another long tap. Which in lay-speech was Morse code for: 'No. You turd from my arse.'
'Mr Potato Head?' Mulder tried again with a slight inflection to the voice that was intended to fool Scully into missing the fact that she'd said no to this suggestion two seconds previously.
'No,' reaffirmed Scully.
Mulder make a mental note that although this trick had not worked here, or when he'd asked that Spanish lady from across the hall, who funnily enough only spoke Spanish, for some sugar, that it was still worth using later.
'Are you sure?' tried Mulder.
'YES' shot back Scully.
Damn thought Mulder, so it's going to be like that is it? She's playing a dangerous game, Fox, but you can beat her boy, yes you can, just believe in yourself, know that your heart is true and you are in control of your destiny. Never let anyone tell you otherwise Mulder-man. You are the man. Go forth and…
(EDITOR NOTE: In the interests of decency and all things dignified I had to cut the last 800 paragraphs of Mulder's self-praising and back slapping that led to the inevitable conclusion that he is indeed God. Anyway, entering back into Mulder's world)
'Okay, how about Mr Potato-Head, but this time its got a hyphen between potato and head.'
'You know what?' Said Scully intending to give him a piece of her mind - not too big though cos she'd already done that about five times already this morning and she had only got a kid's-meal sized portion left, which she was loath to waste on Mulder. Anyway,
'You know what,' repeated Scully 'you're just being stupid now, and if you've got no worthwhile suggestions, I'll just pick the name myself.'
Mulder kept quiet watching her silently, bitter at the fact that she thought he was only being stupid NOW, when he'd been trying to bug the hell out of her the whole morning. Boy, how he loved that woman - good old Scully.
Scully sat down on the chair behind her, regaining her composure.
'How about Phoenix?' Scully asked looking hopeful.
'Yeah' nodded Mulder 'the phoenix bird? It is said that only one phoenix can exist at any one time, and when one dies a new one rises from the ashes'
'Exactly,' commented Scully.
Mulder cocked his head to one side and looked at her in a reproachful manner. 'Scully you want us to be named after a stuffed animal out of fairy stories? Something that could be a cuddly toy won at the fair? It's a stupid name'
'And Fox isn't?' quipped Scully
'Okay, okay', Mulder put his hands up in defence, 'I didn't know we were getting personal here, Miss I-used-to-wear-baggy-trouser-suits-and-look-completely-repulsive-but-have-now-managed-to-find-more-fashion-sense-than-a-gremlin-in-an-exploding-icecream-factory. Mulder punctuated his sentence with a badly timed laugh and a clap of his hands.
Scully was turning red (two shades lighter than her hair though, which was fortunate) and shaking her head in astonishment. Too far Mulder. Way too far. You should have stopped at the slightly-disgruntled-but-still-willing-to-let-Mulder-live and not taken the cab to Top-of Scully's-list to-castrate-while-forcing-victim-to-endure-the-shame-that-is-the-Red-Shoe-Diaries.
'Mulder, I hate you! What is your problem today? I have had enough! I wake up this morning and I realise it's a bad hair day, then you mess me around with choosing a name, so much so, that I feel I'm halfway to gaining the skills needed for a kindergarten teacher and now you insult me on my dress sense?'
Mulder bit his lip.
'I don't believe you. I just can't deal with this today. And, if you really want to know I'm suffering from PMT'
She'd hardly finished the three dreaded letters before Mulder had fled.
'Yeah', chuckled Scully. 'Works every time, baby. Every time.'
By River.
Don't be a poo
Please review.
(It rhythms - get it ?)