Title: First-Person Lamer
Author: Goudess
E-Mail: queequeg01@excite.com
Rating: PG (A couple dirty-words.)
Category:I'd label this as a parody, but then I wouldn't have anything to call the
episode I'm basing it on.
Disclaimer: I don't own them! I don't WANT to own them! Demmit!
Summary: Mulder and Scully, forced by contract to stay in the X-Files for at least six years,
investigate a silly, pointless, and irrelevant case when the show's writers dig below their
reserves and into the sluge of Crappiness. But hey, the X-Files is a classic! It can get away
with an hour of tear-jerking stupidity!
Spoliers: First Person Shooter. If you haven't seen the episode, this probably won't make much
sense. It's basically parodying the events that take place during that television hour --
although, really, nothing can spoil that puss-like cesspool of awfulness. In fact, if you
haven't been exposed alraedy, I'd advise you not to even -try- and watch it, unless you're in
for a good cry. Pathetic, pitiful tears. Bah! I'm outraged! Outraged!
Author's Note: It's a sad day when actual episodes in a beloved series are worse than what
crappy fan-fiction authors like me can come up with. ^_^ Like most of my humor stories, I
haven't looked it over since the day I wrote it, so I guess there will be a few errors and
stuff, I can't be sure, exactly. Heh. Woo! Nevertheless, I hope you all enjoy,
and...well, Enjoy!
First-Person Lamer
(The Lack of Talent is Affordable!)
"Woo!"
"Yeah, baaby!"
"Yee haa!"
"I can't get the door open."
"I can't get the door open? What kind of excited lame-o catch phrase type sound is
-that-?"
Dorky-Nerd pulled at the door again in the small four by four cubicle that the three
men were cramped in. "No, I mean the -door- is stuck!"
Hunky-Nerd watched curiously. "It's kinda buckling at the edges, is that a good sign?"
Fat-Nerd--
"Woah woah WOAAH! I am not taking that sort of insult, author-person!"
Umm... How about portly?
"No."
Hefty?
"Nuh-uh."
Geez. The Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd?
"Great." He gave a thumbs-up.
Allright. Anyway, Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd tugged at his ridiculously silly-looking
metallic plastic armor outfit and looked around. "Maybe if you try pushing..."
Dorky-Nerd pushed on the door, and it opened up into a dreary grey room. "Woo hoo!"
"Yeah, baaaby!"
"My suit's riding up on me."
The three scantily clad men darted out, wielding cool looking plastic guns. They got in
front of a miniature wedge type object that appeared to be made of spray painted styrofoam, and
waited excitedly, or at least acted like it. A dollar a smile.
"Ooh, look!" Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd exclaimed, pointing ahead of them. "Cheap
special effects!"
And sure enough, little green laser lights appeared out of nowhere, and quickly began
to construct a rousing game of Pong.
"Oooh!"
"Wait, guys! Here they come!" Hunky-Nerd pointed wildly, as a line of guys on
motorcycles came roaring down the street, right toward them.
"Yeaa!" Dorky-Nerd exclaimed, shaking his gun.
"I hope they don't get hit by the little Pong ball." Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd said
nervously.
"Who hired you, anyway?" Hunky-Nerd snapped.
"I was the only one auditioning for the part."
Dorky-Nerd laughed. "Bet you didn't read the script beforehand."
Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd frowned and looked down at the ground. "Yeaah...don't
remind me."
"Script?" Hunky-nerd asked incredulously.
"Guys, get ready!"
The motorcycle posse rode strong, in a perfect line toward the teeny-tiny styrofoam
wedge that the three Nerd-igos hid behind. Being polite villain-type-people, they waited
patiently until all men stood up and aimed before opening fire.
"Whee!" Dorky-Nerd watched as him and his companions took out each and every motorcycle
guy at point blank range without being touched. "I love cheat codes!"
"Cheat codes?"
"Did I say that out loud?"
"Quiet, you two!" Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd said. "We have another ultimately
ridiculous and not at all threatening obstacle to overcome!"
"Yeah, yeah, you just want to get out there and die so you can get this over with."
Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd shrugged. "Let's go!"
"Whee!" Hunky-Nerd said.
They all ran out onto the street, their footsteps echoing along with the pinging noise
of the Pong game overhead.
Shots rang out from above.
"Snipers! Shoot!"
Gunfire erupted, as the three nerds shot their blasters up into the high towers, and
the tower men shot back. Bodies fell, blood splayed, and Hunky-Nerd 'whee-ed'.
"Aaah!" Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd cried, as he was hit for the sake of realism in
this totally mundane and pointless scene, as well as for the fact that his name is the most
tedious to type out. He fell on the ground, and began spasming.
There was much rejoicing.
"Whee!" Hunky-Nerd said.
Dorky-Nerd ran away for no particular reason, save the fact that it was put in the
script and he had a death scene to get to. Hunky-Nerd, who was busy 'whee-ing', did not notice
until it was too late.
The building that Dorky-Nerd entered was dark, gloomy, and ultimately ominous. He
strutted around a moment, as if stalling for time, before slowly making his way to the door
that lead to the end of the level. But, as always, a strange form stopped him short.
"Who's there?" He said nervously, obviously forgetting that indeed there was a blaster
in his hand.
Chris Carter waved a check around temptingly from behind a pillar.
"Ooh, baaaby..." Dorky-Nerd drooled, before running over toward him.
When he got to the pillar, he noted that something was wrong. "Hey..." He said
thoughtfully.
Very, very, veeeery slowly, his plane of vision went from a latex boot heel to a
slender, toned calf...a bare thigh, a voluptuous curve, and finally to a face that said "sex
kitten" all over it.
Dorky-Nerd got out a moist-towelette and carefully wiped the multitude of "sex kittens"
off the woman's face.
"Thanks." She said.
"No problem."
She adjusted her thong, and patted her hair, making sure to cock her hips just so.
"So... where you from?"
"Ontario. 24. Male. Brown hair, blue eyes, glasses, but sexy ones."
"Ooh..."
"And you?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.
"Mmm... 21. Female. Video game."
"Oooh. What do you look like?"
"I'm really, really, reaaaly hot. Brown hair, brown eyes, full lips, great body."
They both blinked, and realized that indeed that they were standing right in front of
each other.
"Oops," Dorky-Nerd said. "Kind of lapsed into routine, sorry."
"No problem. Can I kill you now?"
"Go ahead."
"Wonderful."
Scary X-Filey music played, as she lowered a wicked looking gun to his chest. "This is
my game." She said sexily and really quite pro-feminist.
Dorky-Nerd lifted his hands. "I'm not arguing with you."
She sighed. "You're supposed to be like, 'what?' and stuff here, you know."
"Oops." Dorky-Nerd put on a blank expression. "What? And stuff."
She gave him a little thumbs-up, then fired.
The screen fizzed, and was overcome by cheap special effects.
Plink...plink...plink... the Pong dot missed the line that was supposed to relay it
back to the other side of the screen, and sailed off into oblivion.
~X-Files Theme~
Doo doo doo doo doo doo.
Yeah, yeah...anyway...
Fox Mulder, our...pah, hero, walked all Fox Mulderish-like into a dreary grey building
that bared the sign ~*Free Doughnuts Inside*~. Scully, looking quite not happy to be there, as
was expected, followed him inside, looking at the sign with a wistful expression.
Mulder heard the door hiss to an ominous close behind him and Scully, before sighing at
the notice of an empty hallway and a huge life size poster of the three Nerd-igos, which wasn't
a very pleasant sight.
Mulder sighed. "We always fall for it, don't we?"
"Can't pass up the prospect of free food."
"Now they won't feed us until we finish this." He declared with a frown.
"Let's blame it on swamp gas and get it over with." Scully offered.
Mulder slapped the episode's script on his palm, although it didn't make the satisfying
~whack~ that he was hoping for...having being composed on two-ply toilet paper. "Think we can
stretch it for forty minutes?"
She shrugged a bit. "Well, maybe we can get some guy in costuming to throw on a plastic
garbage bag. He could be the mutated trash swamp monster."
"Scully, that is the dumbest thing I've ever heard in my entire life."
"You haven't read the entire script yet, have you?"
Mulder looked at her blankly. "Why?"
Scully rolled her eyes. "You'll see..."
A man waved to them from across the hall. "Hey!" He didn't sound much like he wanted to
be there.
Mulder looked up, then over at Scully.
Scully shrugged again. "Let's go."
Not-Really-Wanting-To-Be-There-Guy waved again. "Get in gear, you two! Move-move-move!"
Mulder looked down at the script and started to read, as he walked down the hall with
Scully.
Not-Really-Wanting-To-Be-There-Guy nodded to them, crisply. "Welcome to
Last-Minute-Plots, Incorporated."
"Psst." Scully said.
"What?" Not-Really-Wanting-To-Be-There-Guy looked at her blankly, then pulled out a
huge wad of toilet paper. Unfolding it, he looked down with a large sigh and read.
A long moment of silence passed.
Mulder skimmed it as well, paling a bit at each page...er, or rather, at every downy
quilted sheet.
Scully stomped her foot. "You're supposed to be all, 'Hey, what are you guys doing
here', and stuff! This is supposed to be a restricted area!"
Not-Really-Wanting-To-Be-There-Guy scoffed and shoved his script away. "Why? You guys
are just going to flaaash your badges and I'm going to be like 'oh, I guess I'm just a big dumb
guard. Go ahead.' It's pointless!"
"It's in the script."
"The script was obviously written on a Sunday night after a burrito binge."
Suddenly, the Not-Really-Wanting-To-Be-There-Guy was struck by a bolt of lightning,
although it was kind of hard to distinguish the bolt of electricity between a tear in a piece
of film, a day-glow pipecleaner, or one of those lines drawn by sports announcers on ESPN.
Another man slid cheerfully into his place. "Hey! This is a restricted area!"
"The door was unlocked." Mulder said.
"Damn..." The Other-Man muttered, looking out. "What nasty thing did -he- say about the
writers of this episode?"
Mulder lifted his hands and made a 'duhhing' noise. "Don't ask me."
Other-Man shook his head. "Anyway, everything beyond this -point- is a restricted area.
I'll need to see some ID and do some cool techno-stuff on your eyeballs."
"Oooh." Mulder said.
Other-Man slid into the big Star-Trekky chair behind the desk and pulled out a laser
pointer. Mulder and Scully held out their badges.
"Okay." Other-Man said, as he ran his pointer over the two computer ID labels that had
magically manifested themselves onto the Agent's badges, then proceeded to scan Mulder's eyes.
"Aaaah!" Mulder cried, bending over to press his palms into his eye sockets.
Other-Man blanched. "Oops."
"Hey, that thing's pretty cool." Scully said, leaning over a bit.
"Yeah," Other-Man grinned. "Turn this little knobby thing, and you can get an arrow.
See?"
"Ooooh." Scully ooohed.
Mulder continued to scream some nonsense about being blinded.
"Anyway," Other-Man said, as he turned off the laser pen and pretended to scan Scully's
eyes. Some guy from sound effects made a buzzing sound. "All done..." He looked over at the
computer screen, and read it over very professionally:
Scan: Agent Fox Mulder.
Scan: Agent Dana Scully
WARNING: Do not proceed. Please, stop them now! The episode is going to
chaos! Help me, I'm scared... do something... put on a rerun of M*A*S*H,
anything! For the love of GOD! I'm only a Macintosh, I don't deserve
this kind of treatment!
"Looks okey-dokey." Other-Guy said, flipping off the monitor as quickly as he could.
"Eee!" Mulder cried.
Scully reached over and plucked the laser off from the desk, much to Other-Guy's
dismay. "Can I have this?"
"Umm..."
"Thanks." She gleefully shone the little red laser around, setting forth a multitude of
cries from the people backstage and off the set. "Whee-hee!"
Other-Guy shifted away nervously.
"Let's go, Mulder!" Scully said, importantly pointing the laser in the direction of the
no-longer restricted area.
"Eee!" Mulder cried.
"Oh, stop it." She grabbed his jacket and dragged him down the hallway, shining her new
toy in every nook and cranny she could find.
"Eee!" Byers cried, covering his eyes.
Frohike covered his mouth and Langly promptly put his hands to his ears.
Scully stared at them.
"That's supposed to be my line." Mulder said, finally.
Scully frowned and pointed the laser at Byers. A little red dot appeared on his
chest. "Hello Byers." The dot shifted to Frohike, and then finally to Langly. "Hello Frohike.
Hello Langly."
"Glad you know who we are." Frohike said grumpily.
Langly tried to swat the dot away, but with no avail.
Scully frowned. "I know I'm supposed to be doing something Scully-ish, but frankly I
forgot."
Langly started tearing at his shirt wildly.
Mulder blinked sharply, having finally stopped screaming on account that everyone,
including the narrator, had given up on listening to him. "You're supposed to be like all,
'blah blah blah' and stuff."
"Oh yeah. Bla--"
Byers slapped his forehead. "You're -supposed- to be wondering why you guys are over
here in the first place."
"I know why," Scully said, waving her hand a bit as she centered her laser on Byers
instead, on account that she was speaking to him. "There was a sign for free doughnuts."
Mulder nodded empathetically.
Frohike grumbled. "We never get free doughnuts."
Scully clicked off the laser and hit Frohike with it. "Neither do we! It was a trick!
Now we have to do this episode."
"That Carter guy certainly is clever." Langly mused, re-adjusting his t-shirt.
Mulder rubbed his eyes.
Scully sighed. "Soo..."
Byers tugged at his tie. "Someone died."
Mulder's looked surprised. "Died? Really? Gee, it seems like I always end up going
somewhere where people have died...freaaaky. Isn't it freaky, Scully?"
"Mulder, you investigate homicides."
"I said 'died'," Mulder corrected indignantly. "Not 'homicide'."
"Is there really much of a difference?" Scully asked.
"Of course! Homicide is a whole four letters longer!"
Scully rolled her eyes.
"Hurry up you guys, before these stupid two-liners wear thin." Byers said, waving his
hand.
The Lone Gunmen lead Mulder and Scully into a huge white room with nothing in it but a
staircase and some dead-looking guy.
Langly took off a baseball cap, which had magically manifested itself on top of his
head, and lowered it to his chest. "Poor Dorky-Nerd."
Scully frowned as a Scully would, as she went down the stairs, marking each one with
a little flicker of the laser before she made her way across the room and to the corpse.
"Well..." She said professionally, as she whisked the red beam over him wildly with a twitter
of her wrist. "He's dead."
Mulder mock-applauded.
Scully narrowed her eyes. "I'm getting to it." She stooped down next to him, holding
the laser pen neatly in one hand. Carefully, she looked him over.
Frohike psst-ed. "Psst. Scully... look at his chest."
"Oh." Scully lifted her eyes and beam from the man's legs and looked over at his chest.
There was a plastic armor plating it, with a gigantic hole in it that was tinged in yellow
silly putty and rusty blood. She frowned, then leaned over, shining her laser light through the
hole, watching the dot appear on the white-tiled floor on the other side. "Hmmm..." She hmmmed...
Five minutes passed.
Mulder tapped his toe.
Scully flipped off her laser, and looked up at them. "Well, I've come to a conclusion."
Mulder motioned with his hands. "Aaaand..."
"He was shot."
Langly and Frohike darted out to stop Mulder from tackling her. Scully watched him
struggle and grinned, disco-ing the laser around him tauntingly. "With a gun."
"He couldn't have been murdered." Byers said.
"He wasn't... at least it doesn't seem like it. There's not a touch of--"
"Gunpowder or charring on his chest, that there would be due to the short range at
which he was shot." Byers finished.
Scully frowned. "Actually, I was going to say that there is not a touch of plausibility
in this case, and more so -- if this guy was just -murdered-, this wouldn't be the X-Files."
"She's got a point there." Mulder said, tugging out of the computer hackers' grip and
rubbing his shoulders.
Frohike nodded.
"Woaaah now." Byers said, waving his hands. "Aren't you supposed to be Miss Skeptic,
here?"
Mulder jabbed a thumb behind him in reply, toward a conveniently opening door.
A cop stepped into the room. "That's me! And it's Mr. Skeptic to you."
Byers slapped his head. "This episode is going to hell."
"Ha, you haven't seen the half of it yet," Mr. Skeptic said with a chuckle.
Scully stood up. "This man was murdered, obviously. But there is no weapon or suspect,
because he was alone in a room that consisted only of computer generated images. Scientific
stuff, jargon, jargon, stupid unlikely theory covered up by huge smart-sounding terms."
Mr. Skeptic shook his finger. "Now, that's impossible! This was obviously something
else!"
"Like -what-?" Mulder put his hands on his hips.
"Like...um...dangit..." Mr. Skeptic pulled out a wad of toilet paper.
Mulder sighed and waved his hand. "Nevermind, nevermind... let's get out of here,
Scully."
"Hold on, hold on..." Mr. Skeptic held up a finger, losing grip on some of the paper,
which spilled to the ground in a ribbon and a tiny growing pile. "Almost got it..."
"Just forget it. Geez."
They trudged back upstairs. Well, actually, -Mulder- trudged. Scully walked quite
amusedly, shining her laser light around.
"Are you sure that thing is safe?" Mulder asked as they made their way down another
hall, which was precisely the same as the -last- hall, save only the fact that there was no
Three Nerd-igos poster, but rather a ~*Coffee, Cappuccino, Expresso -- This Way*~ sign.
Scully nodded. "Yeah, I see these things around all the time"
Mulder twisted his face a bit. "Yeah... but I feel this weird tingling... right..."
He twisted his arm around to touch the small of his back. "Right about here."
Scully quickly flashed the laser away from his back and shook her head quickly. "Nope.
I was shining it on that Free Coffee sign the whole time."
Mulder nodded slightly, just missing the little laser-dot sized hole in the coat as he
brought his hand back. "Okay. Just curious."
"Yeah, yeah, well..." Scully coughed nervously. "Hey, isn't that our door?"
Mulder looked over at the door that read -- ~*Some Important Plot Fillers*~ "Think so.
Shall we get this over with?"
Scully nodded. "Sure."
They entered.
A woman looked up at them from a handful of toilet paper.
"Oh, great," Mulder said.
Scully shined the laser on the woman's chest. "Who are you?"
"Phoebe."
"Phoebe?"
"Phoebe Grey." She replied indignantly.
"Oh." They both said.
Phoebe stuffed the paper in her back pocket. "Agents Mulder and Scully?"
They both nodded.
"I'm Phoebe Grey."
"Um..." Mulder said. "You said that already."
Scully flashed the laser onto Phoebe's back pocket.
She looked down, and pulled out the script again.
A quiet moment passed. Mulder tapped his foot.
"Alright." Phoebe finally said.
"Alright." Scully echoed.
Phoebe stood there idly for a second, and then blinked and walked over to a computer
monitor. "Look, there's no way that guy could have been killed by the game itself."
Scully hissed. "Psst. We haven't guessed that he was killed by the game yet."
Phoebe's eyes flew wide. "You didn't?"
"I did." Mulder said.
"But you didn't say anything," Scully argued.
"I know. It doesn't come up for another few lines."
They both glared at Phoebe.
Phoebe ground her toe into the floor. "Um... anyway. He wasn't. I can prove it...
um..."
Scully let loose an exasperated sigh and flippen on the computer. "You can prove it by
showing us the footage from the game."
"Oh, yes." Phoebe sat down, and said in a Professional-voice. "Last minute plots,
Incorporated, is the cutting edge of gaming. We have the latest technology, as you've seen
earlier in the episode for no other reason than the latter." She tapped a few keys. "This game
is all virtual reality, taking place in a..." She made a little quote-thing with her fingers.
"...'game space'..." Quote-quote. "...that really consists of some boring white-washed room.
The blasters are just plastic, about as harmless as a Nintendo joystick. Their suits have
sensors in them -- if shot by the game, it will produce a little shock, but nothing more.
Nothing that could -kill- anyone... Hey, are you two listening?"
Scully blinked.
Mulder blinked.
Phoebe sighed. "Anyway, although I've only watched about thirty-and-a-half seconds of
footage so you guys can find the evidence first, I'm going to say in all professionalism --
nothing happened."
"We'll just -see- about that," Mulder said Mulder-ishly.
Scully nodded.
Phoebe sighed again and hit a key. The moment the video flipped on, her head drooped
like a robot shutting down, due to the fact that she had and will have an inabiltity to keep
a careful eye on the characters when in the 'game space' for the rest of the episode.
Scully watched.
"Ooh, Pong." Mulder said.
Dorky-Nerd ran across the street and into the bleak, dreary building on the computer
monitor. Scully shook her head sadly at Chris as he waved a check around and crossed her arms
over her chest. A scream echoed out from somewhere off the set as she mistakenly shone the
laser at eye level from beneath an elbow.
Mulder pointed at the screen. "Ooh! Lookie!"
A voluptuous woman strutted around in the game space.
Scully's lip turned up slightly at the sight of her getup. "That can -not- be
comfortable."
Mulder slapped Phoebe across the back. "Wake up!"
She snorted in surprise and lifted her head to look at the scantily-clad woman. "Wait!
This isn't right! It's just... eerie and paranormal and stuff..."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Pause it." Mulder said, waving his hand wildly toward the screen.
Phoebe hit a key. It paused.
Mulder looked very closely. "Well, it's a woman."
It was Scully's turn to mock-applaud.
Phoebe hit a few buttons, and it zoomed in and rotated the image -- for the purpose of
capturing every sweat-inducing inch of marvelous flesh.
Mulder looked at the Scantily-Clad Woman.
"Print that off." Mulder said.
"Why?!" Scully exclaimed. "I mean," She pointed at the Scantily-Clad-Woman with her
laser, and continued, "She's a computer character. Animated. And, knowing that you're going to
argue and completely dismiss everything I have to say about this because you're always right,
I'm going to stress something else as well -- it's not like people are going to have a hard
time finding a busty woman in her underwear."
Phoebe handed Mulder a piece of paper.
Mulder looked at the Scantily-Clad Woman.
Scully rolled her eyes. "Oh, now I see."
"Are you sure?" Mulder asked, as he turned the printout toward her.
Extreme close-up of the Scantily-Clad Woman.
Scully sighed long and hard.
Mulder brought the printout back and looked at it admiringly, before showing it to
Pheobe. "What do you think?"
He displayed the Scantily-Clad Woman.
Scully dug her fingers into his arm and dragged him out the door. "We're leaving."
"So soon?" Mulder asked. "Ow! My arm! Stoppit!"
Phoebe waved. "Bye! Come again!"
Mulder flapped his hand around at her until he was dragged out the door and it slammed
shut behind him with another loud yelp.
Scully released him, and started down the hall angrily.
Mulder rubbed his shoulder and ran after her. "You didn't have to dislodge the nerves
in my bicep, Scully."
"There are worse things I can dislodge than your bicep, Mulder -- I guarantee it."
Mulder grimaced.
She started down the hall. "And now what?"
Mulder started to unfold the printout.
"No!" Scully slapped his hands. "NOT that."
Mulder pouted.
High-pitched squealing erupted from behind them.
"Why are there ten year old girls running around, Mulder?" Scully asked, as she looked
back over her shoulder curiously.
"Umm..." Mulder said, making a face.
"Eee! It's Daryl Mushootme!" Langly screeched.
"Daryl Mushootme?" Scully asked increduously.
Phoebe stepped out from the room. "Daryl Mushootme. The reigning video-games expert."
Scully lifted an eyebrow. "He does that for a living?"
"Coooooollll..." Mulder sighed dreamily.
Phoebe shrugged a bit.
And out he came. Dressed in black from head to foot, the Asian man strode aruond the
corner and down the hallway... escorted by the giddy, jumping Lone Gunmen. His shoulders swayed
like an expert super-fighter, and in one black-gloved hand he held a large, really neat-o
looking joystick like a scepter.
Mulder was beginning to hyperventilate.
Scully gave him a strange look and jolted him in the ribs. "You don't even know who
this guy is."
"Yeah," Mulder replied under his breath. "But he's supposed to be the epitome of
testosterone, which happens to be a subplot in this episode."
Scully made a face at the skinny, slightly pimply man. "How can you have a subplot
when there isn't even a plot in the first place?"
The small group passed them. Some guy playing the kazoo tweeted out the Mario theme
mightily.
Scully tried not to cry.
...to be continued...
Author: Goudess
E-Mail: queequeg01@excite.com
Rating: PG (A couple dirty-words.)
Category:I'd label this as a parody, but then I wouldn't have anything to call the
episode I'm basing it on.
Disclaimer: I don't own them! I don't WANT to own them! Demmit!
Summary: Mulder and Scully, forced by contract to stay in the X-Files for at least six years,
investigate a silly, pointless, and irrelevant case when the show's writers dig below their
reserves and into the sluge of Crappiness. But hey, the X-Files is a classic! It can get away
with an hour of tear-jerking stupidity!
Spoliers: First Person Shooter. If you haven't seen the episode, this probably won't make much
sense. It's basically parodying the events that take place during that television hour --
although, really, nothing can spoil that puss-like cesspool of awfulness. In fact, if you
haven't been exposed alraedy, I'd advise you not to even -try- and watch it, unless you're in
for a good cry. Pathetic, pitiful tears. Bah! I'm outraged! Outraged!
Author's Note: It's a sad day when actual episodes in a beloved series are worse than what
crappy fan-fiction authors like me can come up with. ^_^ Like most of my humor stories, I
haven't looked it over since the day I wrote it, so I guess there will be a few errors and
stuff, I can't be sure, exactly. Heh. Woo! Nevertheless, I hope you all enjoy,
and...well, Enjoy!
First-Person Lamer
(The Lack of Talent is Affordable!)
"Woo!"
"Yeah, baaby!"
"Yee haa!"
"I can't get the door open."
"I can't get the door open? What kind of excited lame-o catch phrase type sound is
-that-?"
Dorky-Nerd pulled at the door again in the small four by four cubicle that the three
men were cramped in. "No, I mean the -door- is stuck!"
Hunky-Nerd watched curiously. "It's kinda buckling at the edges, is that a good sign?"
Fat-Nerd--
"Woah woah WOAAH! I am not taking that sort of insult, author-person!"
Umm... How about portly?
"No."
Hefty?
"Nuh-uh."
Geez. The Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd?
"Great." He gave a thumbs-up.
Allright. Anyway, Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd tugged at his ridiculously silly-looking
metallic plastic armor outfit and looked around. "Maybe if you try pushing..."
Dorky-Nerd pushed on the door, and it opened up into a dreary grey room. "Woo hoo!"
"Yeah, baaaby!"
"My suit's riding up on me."
The three scantily clad men darted out, wielding cool looking plastic guns. They got in
front of a miniature wedge type object that appeared to be made of spray painted styrofoam, and
waited excitedly, or at least acted like it. A dollar a smile.
"Ooh, look!" Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd exclaimed, pointing ahead of them. "Cheap
special effects!"
And sure enough, little green laser lights appeared out of nowhere, and quickly began
to construct a rousing game of Pong.
"Oooh!"
"Wait, guys! Here they come!" Hunky-Nerd pointed wildly, as a line of guys on
motorcycles came roaring down the street, right toward them.
"Yeaa!" Dorky-Nerd exclaimed, shaking his gun.
"I hope they don't get hit by the little Pong ball." Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd said
nervously.
"Who hired you, anyway?" Hunky-Nerd snapped.
"I was the only one auditioning for the part."
Dorky-Nerd laughed. "Bet you didn't read the script beforehand."
Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd frowned and looked down at the ground. "Yeaah...don't
remind me."
"Script?" Hunky-nerd asked incredulously.
"Guys, get ready!"
The motorcycle posse rode strong, in a perfect line toward the teeny-tiny styrofoam
wedge that the three Nerd-igos hid behind. Being polite villain-type-people, they waited
patiently until all men stood up and aimed before opening fire.
"Whee!" Dorky-Nerd watched as him and his companions took out each and every motorcycle
guy at point blank range without being touched. "I love cheat codes!"
"Cheat codes?"
"Did I say that out loud?"
"Quiet, you two!" Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd said. "We have another ultimately
ridiculous and not at all threatening obstacle to overcome!"
"Yeah, yeah, you just want to get out there and die so you can get this over with."
Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd shrugged. "Let's go!"
"Whee!" Hunky-Nerd said.
They all ran out onto the street, their footsteps echoing along with the pinging noise
of the Pong game overhead.
Shots rang out from above.
"Snipers! Shoot!"
Gunfire erupted, as the three nerds shot their blasters up into the high towers, and
the tower men shot back. Bodies fell, blood splayed, and Hunky-Nerd 'whee-ed'.
"Aaah!" Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd cried, as he was hit for the sake of realism in
this totally mundane and pointless scene, as well as for the fact that his name is the most
tedious to type out. He fell on the ground, and began spasming.
There was much rejoicing.
"Whee!" Hunky-Nerd said.
Dorky-Nerd ran away for no particular reason, save the fact that it was put in the
script and he had a death scene to get to. Hunky-Nerd, who was busy 'whee-ing', did not notice
until it was too late.
The building that Dorky-Nerd entered was dark, gloomy, and ultimately ominous. He
strutted around a moment, as if stalling for time, before slowly making his way to the door
that lead to the end of the level. But, as always, a strange form stopped him short.
"Who's there?" He said nervously, obviously forgetting that indeed there was a blaster
in his hand.
Chris Carter waved a check around temptingly from behind a pillar.
"Ooh, baaaby..." Dorky-Nerd drooled, before running over toward him.
When he got to the pillar, he noted that something was wrong. "Hey..." He said
thoughtfully.
Very, very, veeeery slowly, his plane of vision went from a latex boot heel to a
slender, toned calf...a bare thigh, a voluptuous curve, and finally to a face that said "sex
kitten" all over it.
Dorky-Nerd got out a moist-towelette and carefully wiped the multitude of "sex kittens"
off the woman's face.
"Thanks." She said.
"No problem."
She adjusted her thong, and patted her hair, making sure to cock her hips just so.
"So... where you from?"
"Ontario. 24. Male. Brown hair, blue eyes, glasses, but sexy ones."
"Ooh..."
"And you?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.
"Mmm... 21. Female. Video game."
"Oooh. What do you look like?"
"I'm really, really, reaaaly hot. Brown hair, brown eyes, full lips, great body."
They both blinked, and realized that indeed that they were standing right in front of
each other.
"Oops," Dorky-Nerd said. "Kind of lapsed into routine, sorry."
"No problem. Can I kill you now?"
"Go ahead."
"Wonderful."
Scary X-Filey music played, as she lowered a wicked looking gun to his chest. "This is
my game." She said sexily and really quite pro-feminist.
Dorky-Nerd lifted his hands. "I'm not arguing with you."
She sighed. "You're supposed to be like, 'what?' and stuff here, you know."
"Oops." Dorky-Nerd put on a blank expression. "What? And stuff."
She gave him a little thumbs-up, then fired.
The screen fizzed, and was overcome by cheap special effects.
Plink...plink...plink... the Pong dot missed the line that was supposed to relay it
back to the other side of the screen, and sailed off into oblivion.
~X-Files Theme~
Doo doo doo doo doo doo.
Yeah, yeah...anyway...
Fox Mulder, our...pah, hero, walked all Fox Mulderish-like into a dreary grey building
that bared the sign ~*Free Doughnuts Inside*~. Scully, looking quite not happy to be there, as
was expected, followed him inside, looking at the sign with a wistful expression.
Mulder heard the door hiss to an ominous close behind him and Scully, before sighing at
the notice of an empty hallway and a huge life size poster of the three Nerd-igos, which wasn't
a very pleasant sight.
Mulder sighed. "We always fall for it, don't we?"
"Can't pass up the prospect of free food."
"Now they won't feed us until we finish this." He declared with a frown.
"Let's blame it on swamp gas and get it over with." Scully offered.
Mulder slapped the episode's script on his palm, although it didn't make the satisfying
~whack~ that he was hoping for...having being composed on two-ply toilet paper. "Think we can
stretch it for forty minutes?"
She shrugged a bit. "Well, maybe we can get some guy in costuming to throw on a plastic
garbage bag. He could be the mutated trash swamp monster."
"Scully, that is the dumbest thing I've ever heard in my entire life."
"You haven't read the entire script yet, have you?"
Mulder looked at her blankly. "Why?"
Scully rolled her eyes. "You'll see..."
A man waved to them from across the hall. "Hey!" He didn't sound much like he wanted to
be there.
Mulder looked up, then over at Scully.
Scully shrugged again. "Let's go."
Not-Really-Wanting-To-Be-There-Guy waved again. "Get in gear, you two! Move-move-move!"
Mulder looked down at the script and started to read, as he walked down the hall with
Scully.
Not-Really-Wanting-To-Be-There-Guy nodded to them, crisply. "Welcome to
Last-Minute-Plots, Incorporated."
"Psst." Scully said.
"What?" Not-Really-Wanting-To-Be-There-Guy looked at her blankly, then pulled out a
huge wad of toilet paper. Unfolding it, he looked down with a large sigh and read.
A long moment of silence passed.
Mulder skimmed it as well, paling a bit at each page...er, or rather, at every downy
quilted sheet.
Scully stomped her foot. "You're supposed to be all, 'Hey, what are you guys doing
here', and stuff! This is supposed to be a restricted area!"
Not-Really-Wanting-To-Be-There-Guy scoffed and shoved his script away. "Why? You guys
are just going to flaaash your badges and I'm going to be like 'oh, I guess I'm just a big dumb
guard. Go ahead.' It's pointless!"
"It's in the script."
"The script was obviously written on a Sunday night after a burrito binge."
Suddenly, the Not-Really-Wanting-To-Be-There-Guy was struck by a bolt of lightning,
although it was kind of hard to distinguish the bolt of electricity between a tear in a piece
of film, a day-glow pipecleaner, or one of those lines drawn by sports announcers on ESPN.
Another man slid cheerfully into his place. "Hey! This is a restricted area!"
"The door was unlocked." Mulder said.
"Damn..." The Other-Man muttered, looking out. "What nasty thing did -he- say about the
writers of this episode?"
Mulder lifted his hands and made a 'duhhing' noise. "Don't ask me."
Other-Man shook his head. "Anyway, everything beyond this -point- is a restricted area.
I'll need to see some ID and do some cool techno-stuff on your eyeballs."
"Oooh." Mulder said.
Other-Man slid into the big Star-Trekky chair behind the desk and pulled out a laser
pointer. Mulder and Scully held out their badges.
"Okay." Other-Man said, as he ran his pointer over the two computer ID labels that had
magically manifested themselves onto the Agent's badges, then proceeded to scan Mulder's eyes.
"Aaaah!" Mulder cried, bending over to press his palms into his eye sockets.
Other-Man blanched. "Oops."
"Hey, that thing's pretty cool." Scully said, leaning over a bit.
"Yeah," Other-Man grinned. "Turn this little knobby thing, and you can get an arrow.
See?"
"Ooooh." Scully ooohed.
Mulder continued to scream some nonsense about being blinded.
"Anyway," Other-Man said, as he turned off the laser pen and pretended to scan Scully's
eyes. Some guy from sound effects made a buzzing sound. "All done..." He looked over at the
computer screen, and read it over very professionally:
Scan: Agent Fox Mulder.
Scan: Agent Dana Scully
WARNING: Do not proceed. Please, stop them now! The episode is going to
chaos! Help me, I'm scared... do something... put on a rerun of M*A*S*H,
anything! For the love of GOD! I'm only a Macintosh, I don't deserve
this kind of treatment!
"Looks okey-dokey." Other-Guy said, flipping off the monitor as quickly as he could.
"Eee!" Mulder cried.
Scully reached over and plucked the laser off from the desk, much to Other-Guy's
dismay. "Can I have this?"
"Umm..."
"Thanks." She gleefully shone the little red laser around, setting forth a multitude of
cries from the people backstage and off the set. "Whee-hee!"
Other-Guy shifted away nervously.
"Let's go, Mulder!" Scully said, importantly pointing the laser in the direction of the
no-longer restricted area.
"Eee!" Mulder cried.
"Oh, stop it." She grabbed his jacket and dragged him down the hallway, shining her new
toy in every nook and cranny she could find.
"Eee!" Byers cried, covering his eyes.
Frohike covered his mouth and Langly promptly put his hands to his ears.
Scully stared at them.
"That's supposed to be my line." Mulder said, finally.
Scully frowned and pointed the laser at Byers. A little red dot appeared on his
chest. "Hello Byers." The dot shifted to Frohike, and then finally to Langly. "Hello Frohike.
Hello Langly."
"Glad you know who we are." Frohike said grumpily.
Langly tried to swat the dot away, but with no avail.
Scully frowned. "I know I'm supposed to be doing something Scully-ish, but frankly I
forgot."
Langly started tearing at his shirt wildly.
Mulder blinked sharply, having finally stopped screaming on account that everyone,
including the narrator, had given up on listening to him. "You're supposed to be like all,
'blah blah blah' and stuff."
"Oh yeah. Bla--"
Byers slapped his forehead. "You're -supposed- to be wondering why you guys are over
here in the first place."
"I know why," Scully said, waving her hand a bit as she centered her laser on Byers
instead, on account that she was speaking to him. "There was a sign for free doughnuts."
Mulder nodded empathetically.
Frohike grumbled. "We never get free doughnuts."
Scully clicked off the laser and hit Frohike with it. "Neither do we! It was a trick!
Now we have to do this episode."
"That Carter guy certainly is clever." Langly mused, re-adjusting his t-shirt.
Mulder rubbed his eyes.
Scully sighed. "Soo..."
Byers tugged at his tie. "Someone died."
Mulder's looked surprised. "Died? Really? Gee, it seems like I always end up going
somewhere where people have died...freaaaky. Isn't it freaky, Scully?"
"Mulder, you investigate homicides."
"I said 'died'," Mulder corrected indignantly. "Not 'homicide'."
"Is there really much of a difference?" Scully asked.
"Of course! Homicide is a whole four letters longer!"
Scully rolled her eyes.
"Hurry up you guys, before these stupid two-liners wear thin." Byers said, waving his
hand.
The Lone Gunmen lead Mulder and Scully into a huge white room with nothing in it but a
staircase and some dead-looking guy.
Langly took off a baseball cap, which had magically manifested itself on top of his
head, and lowered it to his chest. "Poor Dorky-Nerd."
Scully frowned as a Scully would, as she went down the stairs, marking each one with
a little flicker of the laser before she made her way across the room and to the corpse.
"Well..." She said professionally, as she whisked the red beam over him wildly with a twitter
of her wrist. "He's dead."
Mulder mock-applauded.
Scully narrowed her eyes. "I'm getting to it." She stooped down next to him, holding
the laser pen neatly in one hand. Carefully, she looked him over.
Frohike psst-ed. "Psst. Scully... look at his chest."
"Oh." Scully lifted her eyes and beam from the man's legs and looked over at his chest.
There was a plastic armor plating it, with a gigantic hole in it that was tinged in yellow
silly putty and rusty blood. She frowned, then leaned over, shining her laser light through the
hole, watching the dot appear on the white-tiled floor on the other side. "Hmmm..." She hmmmed...
Five minutes passed.
Mulder tapped his toe.
Scully flipped off her laser, and looked up at them. "Well, I've come to a conclusion."
Mulder motioned with his hands. "Aaaand..."
"He was shot."
Langly and Frohike darted out to stop Mulder from tackling her. Scully watched him
struggle and grinned, disco-ing the laser around him tauntingly. "With a gun."
"He couldn't have been murdered." Byers said.
"He wasn't... at least it doesn't seem like it. There's not a touch of--"
"Gunpowder or charring on his chest, that there would be due to the short range at
which he was shot." Byers finished.
Scully frowned. "Actually, I was going to say that there is not a touch of plausibility
in this case, and more so -- if this guy was just -murdered-, this wouldn't be the X-Files."
"She's got a point there." Mulder said, tugging out of the computer hackers' grip and
rubbing his shoulders.
Frohike nodded.
"Woaaah now." Byers said, waving his hands. "Aren't you supposed to be Miss Skeptic,
here?"
Mulder jabbed a thumb behind him in reply, toward a conveniently opening door.
A cop stepped into the room. "That's me! And it's Mr. Skeptic to you."
Byers slapped his head. "This episode is going to hell."
"Ha, you haven't seen the half of it yet," Mr. Skeptic said with a chuckle.
Scully stood up. "This man was murdered, obviously. But there is no weapon or suspect,
because he was alone in a room that consisted only of computer generated images. Scientific
stuff, jargon, jargon, stupid unlikely theory covered up by huge smart-sounding terms."
Mr. Skeptic shook his finger. "Now, that's impossible! This was obviously something
else!"
"Like -what-?" Mulder put his hands on his hips.
"Like...um...dangit..." Mr. Skeptic pulled out a wad of toilet paper.
Mulder sighed and waved his hand. "Nevermind, nevermind... let's get out of here,
Scully."
"Hold on, hold on..." Mr. Skeptic held up a finger, losing grip on some of the paper,
which spilled to the ground in a ribbon and a tiny growing pile. "Almost got it..."
"Just forget it. Geez."
They trudged back upstairs. Well, actually, -Mulder- trudged. Scully walked quite
amusedly, shining her laser light around.
"Are you sure that thing is safe?" Mulder asked as they made their way down another
hall, which was precisely the same as the -last- hall, save only the fact that there was no
Three Nerd-igos poster, but rather a ~*Coffee, Cappuccino, Expresso -- This Way*~ sign.
Scully nodded. "Yeah, I see these things around all the time"
Mulder twisted his face a bit. "Yeah... but I feel this weird tingling... right..."
He twisted his arm around to touch the small of his back. "Right about here."
Scully quickly flashed the laser away from his back and shook her head quickly. "Nope.
I was shining it on that Free Coffee sign the whole time."
Mulder nodded slightly, just missing the little laser-dot sized hole in the coat as he
brought his hand back. "Okay. Just curious."
"Yeah, yeah, well..." Scully coughed nervously. "Hey, isn't that our door?"
Mulder looked over at the door that read -- ~*Some Important Plot Fillers*~ "Think so.
Shall we get this over with?"
Scully nodded. "Sure."
They entered.
A woman looked up at them from a handful of toilet paper.
"Oh, great," Mulder said.
Scully shined the laser on the woman's chest. "Who are you?"
"Phoebe."
"Phoebe?"
"Phoebe Grey." She replied indignantly.
"Oh." They both said.
Phoebe stuffed the paper in her back pocket. "Agents Mulder and Scully?"
They both nodded.
"I'm Phoebe Grey."
"Um..." Mulder said. "You said that already."
Scully flashed the laser onto Phoebe's back pocket.
She looked down, and pulled out the script again.
A quiet moment passed. Mulder tapped his foot.
"Alright." Phoebe finally said.
"Alright." Scully echoed.
Phoebe stood there idly for a second, and then blinked and walked over to a computer
monitor. "Look, there's no way that guy could have been killed by the game itself."
Scully hissed. "Psst. We haven't guessed that he was killed by the game yet."
Phoebe's eyes flew wide. "You didn't?"
"I did." Mulder said.
"But you didn't say anything," Scully argued.
"I know. It doesn't come up for another few lines."
They both glared at Phoebe.
Phoebe ground her toe into the floor. "Um... anyway. He wasn't. I can prove it...
um..."
Scully let loose an exasperated sigh and flippen on the computer. "You can prove it by
showing us the footage from the game."
"Oh, yes." Phoebe sat down, and said in a Professional-voice. "Last minute plots,
Incorporated, is the cutting edge of gaming. We have the latest technology, as you've seen
earlier in the episode for no other reason than the latter." She tapped a few keys. "This game
is all virtual reality, taking place in a..." She made a little quote-thing with her fingers.
"...'game space'..." Quote-quote. "...that really consists of some boring white-washed room.
The blasters are just plastic, about as harmless as a Nintendo joystick. Their suits have
sensors in them -- if shot by the game, it will produce a little shock, but nothing more.
Nothing that could -kill- anyone... Hey, are you two listening?"
Scully blinked.
Mulder blinked.
Phoebe sighed. "Anyway, although I've only watched about thirty-and-a-half seconds of
footage so you guys can find the evidence first, I'm going to say in all professionalism --
nothing happened."
"We'll just -see- about that," Mulder said Mulder-ishly.
Scully nodded.
Phoebe sighed again and hit a key. The moment the video flipped on, her head drooped
like a robot shutting down, due to the fact that she had and will have an inabiltity to keep
a careful eye on the characters when in the 'game space' for the rest of the episode.
Scully watched.
"Ooh, Pong." Mulder said.
Dorky-Nerd ran across the street and into the bleak, dreary building on the computer
monitor. Scully shook her head sadly at Chris as he waved a check around and crossed her arms
over her chest. A scream echoed out from somewhere off the set as she mistakenly shone the
laser at eye level from beneath an elbow.
Mulder pointed at the screen. "Ooh! Lookie!"
A voluptuous woman strutted around in the game space.
Scully's lip turned up slightly at the sight of her getup. "That can -not- be
comfortable."
Mulder slapped Phoebe across the back. "Wake up!"
She snorted in surprise and lifted her head to look at the scantily-clad woman. "Wait!
This isn't right! It's just... eerie and paranormal and stuff..."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Pause it." Mulder said, waving his hand wildly toward the screen.
Phoebe hit a key. It paused.
Mulder looked very closely. "Well, it's a woman."
It was Scully's turn to mock-applaud.
Phoebe hit a few buttons, and it zoomed in and rotated the image -- for the purpose of
capturing every sweat-inducing inch of marvelous flesh.
Mulder looked at the Scantily-Clad Woman.
"Print that off." Mulder said.
"Why?!" Scully exclaimed. "I mean," She pointed at the Scantily-Clad-Woman with her
laser, and continued, "She's a computer character. Animated. And, knowing that you're going to
argue and completely dismiss everything I have to say about this because you're always right,
I'm going to stress something else as well -- it's not like people are going to have a hard
time finding a busty woman in her underwear."
Phoebe handed Mulder a piece of paper.
Mulder looked at the Scantily-Clad Woman.
Scully rolled her eyes. "Oh, now I see."
"Are you sure?" Mulder asked, as he turned the printout toward her.
Extreme close-up of the Scantily-Clad Woman.
Scully sighed long and hard.
Mulder brought the printout back and looked at it admiringly, before showing it to
Pheobe. "What do you think?"
He displayed the Scantily-Clad Woman.
Scully dug her fingers into his arm and dragged him out the door. "We're leaving."
"So soon?" Mulder asked. "Ow! My arm! Stoppit!"
Phoebe waved. "Bye! Come again!"
Mulder flapped his hand around at her until he was dragged out the door and it slammed
shut behind him with another loud yelp.
Scully released him, and started down the hall angrily.
Mulder rubbed his shoulder and ran after her. "You didn't have to dislodge the nerves
in my bicep, Scully."
"There are worse things I can dislodge than your bicep, Mulder -- I guarantee it."
Mulder grimaced.
She started down the hall. "And now what?"
Mulder started to unfold the printout.
"No!" Scully slapped his hands. "NOT that."
Mulder pouted.
High-pitched squealing erupted from behind them.
"Why are there ten year old girls running around, Mulder?" Scully asked, as she looked
back over her shoulder curiously.
"Umm..." Mulder said, making a face.
"Eee! It's Daryl Mushootme!" Langly screeched.
"Daryl Mushootme?" Scully asked increduously.
Phoebe stepped out from the room. "Daryl Mushootme. The reigning video-games expert."
Scully lifted an eyebrow. "He does that for a living?"
"Coooooollll..." Mulder sighed dreamily.
Phoebe shrugged a bit.
And out he came. Dressed in black from head to foot, the Asian man strode aruond the
corner and down the hallway... escorted by the giddy, jumping Lone Gunmen. His shoulders swayed
like an expert super-fighter, and in one black-gloved hand he held a large, really neat-o
looking joystick like a scepter.
Mulder was beginning to hyperventilate.
Scully gave him a strange look and jolted him in the ribs. "You don't even know who
this guy is."
"Yeah," Mulder replied under his breath. "But he's supposed to be the epitome of
testosterone, which happens to be a subplot in this episode."
Scully made a face at the skinny, slightly pimply man. "How can you have a subplot
when there isn't even a plot in the first place?"
The small group passed them. Some guy playing the kazoo tweeted out the Mario theme
mightily.
Scully tried not to cry.
...to be continued...