This will not be posted anywhere

Well what do you know? Here's the third part of 'Writer's block.' Hope ya'll enjoy. And no, I didn't really see THE MAN there…but I wish I had. ;)

"And in local news, all Pepsi has mysteriously been stolen out of Billy Bob's Grand Union in Burlington. So far the police have no suspects, and the case is ongoing…"

"Dirty bastards, I hope the cops shoot the fucker when they catch him," I growl to myself, turning the TV off.

Lying in my hotel bed, I begin to fall asleep listening to SlipKnot when I heard knocking on my door.

"Who's there?"

"Room service."

"I didn't order room service."

"…It's a complimentary breakfast."

"They don't serve complimentary breakfasts here."

"…Damn."

Smirking, I open the door a little bit to see Jack standing there in a maroon uniform that all employees of Holiday Inn have to wear.

"Don't tell me you killed some poor shmoe just to come up here. That really is a butt-ugly uniform, you know."

"I know," Jack sighed. "It doesn't match my eyes. And no, I didn't kill anyone. They had extras."

"Good."

"Are you going to let me in?"

"Wasn't planning on it, no."

"So you mean to tell me-"

"-That you drove all the way up here from Atlanta to bother the hell out of me, and you got denied? Yeah, that's what I'm saying."

"God damn it."

"Nice try. So, how's Rachel holding up?" Jack scowled.

"She's a fucking weakling. All talk and nothing to back herself up with."

"She broke in five minutes."

"And I didn't even break a sweat," Jack sighed, shaking his head sadly.

"Well Jack, at least you know you haven't lost your touch."

"But you don't understand!" Jack almost wailed. "I need a challenge! Torturing Rachel was like stealing Pepsi from Bill-"

"So it was YOU that stole all the Pepsi from that crappy-ass little store across the street! You bastard! No one, and I mean NO ONE, cuts off my fucking Pepsi supply! Do you know what I've been forced to pour down my throat since I've been up here? Coke! Of all things!"

"Now don't tell me your complaining."

"You stole Pepsi! God's gift to single women who write fanfiction stories!!! You're a sadist!"

Jack only smiled.

"Why thank you. That's the best compliment I've received all day."

Growling at him, I flung open the door, ready to lay the smackdown on the sarcastic serial killer when I heard a familiar voice that turned my legs to butter.

"Tea, honey, I'm only going to be out here for a few days. Yes, Last night's X-Files was good, wasn't it? Next weeks will be better…" The owner of the voice came around the corner into my sight, and there he was…David Duchovny, in the flesh.

OH MY GOD…. My mouth dropped open, and I gaped at the man while Jack attempted, rather futilely, to get my attention.

"Icequeen, what is wrong with you? Couldn't you pick a better man, Like myself, to gape at?"

"Sorry Jack, but when it comes down to it, you couldn't hold a candle up to the 'Damn fine-looking man in the Red Speedo.'" Rather absently, I noticed that drool was beginning to form a puddle on the floor, so I snapped my mouth shut and gazed at David admiringly as he walked up and went into the room right beside mine, but not before smiling and saying 'hello.'

Naturally, I was stunned. How was I to reply?

A medium pitched squeak managed to make its way out of my mouth before he closed the door.

Sighing, I leaned up against the wall and slid down it, a goofy smile plastered on my beet red face.

"You're pathetic. Pathetic." Jack shook his head, clearly not impressed with Mr. Duchovny's animal magnetism.

"Wow…wow…damn…" I had to start fanning my face. "That is one damn fine-looking man!!!"

Jack only sneered derisively before walking the hall.

"If you want a real man, Icequeen, you know where to call."

"Don't wait by the phone, Jack, 'cause you'll be wasting your time."

"We'll see," The 'fictional' serial killer replied before walking around the corner and disappearing from my sight. "We'll see."