~Disclaimer. I don't think Texarkla is a real city, which is why I'm using it as a location. However, if it is, MY Texarkla isn't based on the real Texarkla~
It turned out that Skinner had a new case for Mulder; he needed Scully back in the office for ahem paper work. (I loved that episode) There had been several deaths in Texarkla, and the local people were blaming three little girls that had been in the vicinity of each death.
"Texarkla, where the @#^$ is that?" questioned Mulder.
"On the border of Texas, Arkansas, and Louisiana." said Skinner in a voice that suggested that it should be obvious.
Mulder made a confused face, and simply said, "O.K."
"Now, Ms. Scully, lets go work on that err... paperwork..."
"Hey, Skinner!" yelled Mulder.
Scully and Skinner were practically running towards the elevator.
Skinner turned around and glared. "Pardon *Agent* Mulder."
"*Excuse me*." Mulder said with badly hidden sarcasm. "Hey Assistant Director Skinner."
Skinner rolled his eyes. "Yes Agent Mulder. What is it? Scully and I need to attend to the paper work. It is *extremely* urgent"
"Well, sorry to interrupt, I'm sure this paper work effects the entire balance of the world. How am I getting to *Texarkla*?"
"Oh, how careless of me. Here" Skinner walked over to Mulder. "You have plane tickets, and a rental car waiting for you."
"Allrightythen. Carry on with your... paperwork, sir." Mulder saluted.
[Several Hours Later]
Mulder stepped out of his rent-a-crap… I mean rent-a-car, gasping for air. The air in the rent-a-wreck was a stale mixture of vomit, cigarette smoke, and sweat; he only assumed that was what his clothing smelled of. A man was approaching slowly. He wore a suit, cowboy boots, and a cowboy hat. He extends his had toward Mulder, "John Wayne Smith," he said.
Mulder gave him a look.
"What? My parents really liked John Wayne!"
'This is so stereotypical' Mulder thought to himself.
"Just call me Smith."
The two walk into the nearest bar.
"What'll it be," asked a sleepy looking man from behind the old fashioned countertop.
"Just water," replied Mulder not trusting his stomach from the car ride.
"I'll have gin," said Smith, loudly.
"And?" inquired the bartender.
"Gin."
Mulder turned toward his new acquaintance. "What seems to be the trouble?"
"This ain't no doctor's office, what we have is a problem." The man had a mild drawl that Mulder hadn't noticed before.
"Right. So why don't you tell me about it?" countered the slightly annoyed agent.
"There have been five murders in the past month, all of the victims were male, all between 20 and 30, all down near the pier. We don't really know how to deal with this sort of thing, so we called, y'all."
"And why did the FBI refer you to our office?" asked a now severely annoyed Mulder.
"There were three little girls found next to each body, always sittin' in a circle around it holdin' hands, always chantin' these weird things."
"Did you ever think that these girls might have simply been praying over the bodies, or something to that extent?" asked Mulder.
"Well, it's not just that, these are some strange little girls." He seemed embarrassed about what he was going to say. "You see, all of these girls are descendants of women that were burned at the stakes."
Mulder gave him look that could have melted plastic.
"It's not just that." said Smith quickly. "These little girls start yellin' random curse words. If you say somthin' to you, they'll say it right back to ya, like a parrot. Their heads jerk around real funny like too."
Mulder couldn't hide his disgust on this one. "It sounds to me like these little girls have Tourette's Syndrome."
The depressed and embarrassed look on Smith's face made Mulder feel so awful that he volunteered to meet the girls just to make him feel better.