Encounter with the Brits
It was a cold October night. A Saturday. Many of the Oxford kids were gathered at their favorite clearing in the woods, dancing around a fire, telling ghost stories.
But not a certain brown-haired, hazel-eyed, tall, lanky guy majoring in psychology.
Three hazy shapes drifted down the deserted hallway. Someone had turned off the dorm lights, and the crescent moon outside cast an eerie, iridescent glow over the shadowy forms. They paused briefly before a window and huddled, whispering furiously. Then they continued on, finally coming to a stop before the only door with a light shining through the crack.
There were loud murmurings. Urgent. Chiding.
"Ah thought yeh knew how to do this," one whined.
"I do!" answered another indignantly.
The shape from which the second voice came from gave the distinct impression that it was fumbling with something over the doorknob.
"Hurry!" said a third voice.
After a few, long minutes, the three shapes stood back and nodded to each other.
"YAAAAAHHHH!" they shouted in unison as they crashed through the door.
Fox Mulder's butt rose a foot from the chair. His books crashed to the floor. "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?" he bellowed.
Three boys cast off their bed sheets and grinned widely at their enraged classmate.
"Wotcher, Mulder," said Ben, the one with mousy hair.
"Watcher yourself," Mulder replied, purposely saying the British term with a heavy American accent. He smiled despite himself.
"Now, Mulder," a second boy began. His name was Sam, and he was the proud bearer of the largest nose in the world. "Why aren't you out there with the others?"
"Why are you three in here?" Mulder answered with a question of his own. "What was that all about?"
"Hall'ween came a bit a early this year," Johnny explained, his smile making his ears stick out more.
Mulder shook his head and bent to pick up his work. "That's for sure. I didn't even know there were trolls around here."
"We were ghosts, hear?" Sam protested.
Mulder settled himself back at his desk.
"Yeh need a girl," Ben declared. The three of them arranged themselves on Mulder's bed.
"Yah. Tha's for sure," Sam agreed.
"How 'bout it, Mulder," Johnny joined in, scratching at his rabbit ears. "Quit being the serious one. Go out there and have some fun, give yourself a break, get pissed. 'S almost Hall'ween."
Mulder turned in his chair. "I don't see the three of you taking your advice."
Sam shook his head. "Nah. The girls don't like us, no ways."
"You don't try hard enough," Johnny said, and poked Sam in the ribs.
Ben stretched out and put his hands behind his head. "Ah don' see yeh runnin' after some lass, yerself."
"At least let us poor whelps play with the pinball machine," Johnny entreated.
"Be my guest."
"Yeh still need a girl," Ben tried again.
Mulder ignored him.
A/N: Tee hee hee…There's reason even in chaos…