The Required Disclaimer:
The characters and situations of the "X-Files" television program
are the creations and property of Chris Carter and Fox
Broadcasting (A News Corp Company) and have been used without any
permission. Any copyright infringement intended, implied, or
suggested is in fact Fully Infringed, Implied, & Suggested by the
author, so sue me! I really don't give a floop! I work for a
living! And besides, if Fox does sue, they'll have to let the
jury read this! So there! Hahahahahahahaha!
     No coping or forwarding this story without express written
consent of the author; why get all the blame yourself?


     This story is rated PG-13 for "Naughty Bits", a few gory
scenes of murderous mayhem, a splash of *bleeping* language, and
a lot of utter ridiculousness that will probably offend everyone.


PREMISE: Scully & Mulder go to Hollywood to Investigate Weird
Goings-On at a Rather `Familar' looking TV show...


"BOO-RAY FOR HOLLYWOOD" (Part 1/3)
By R.J. Christensen


Hollywood, CA
May 4th, 1997
2:02am PST


     Big Shot Hollywood Producer Carter Kriss sat in the darkness
typing away at his computer, the only light in the Pacific coast
house coming from the blue screen of his now antique Woird
Poifect 2.0 program. Even though he had the number one show on
the upstart Super United 'Cross-the-World network (SUX) entitled
"The Z-Folders", he was way too cheap to have upgraded. Besides,
it was in fact a bootlegged copy he had stolen from his previous
job at "Surfer Dude" magazine, and that had also been bootlegged
from the University of Hawaii English department. 
     He apparently had it all, millions of fans on the internet,
world wide critical acclaim, scores of international awards
(including a Flemmy and a Wooden World), and the adoration of a
network that upped his show budget 45% and just put out a series
of action figures that gave him 20% of the take. But tonight, he
was unusually tense. He was bothered by a strange feeling of
dread and foreboding for weeks. He couldn't put a finger on what
it may have been, but he tried to alleviate the eerie feeling
with more work. Most put it down as stress of trying to fulfill
the massive following of frenzied fans from around the globe, who
spent way too much of their time adoring the show. A constant
barrage of e-mailed scripts from the most rabid fans and dozens
of convention appearances seem to be taking their toll on Carter
Kriss, but he paid no mind to all.
     But then he began getting the strange feeling that somebody
was constantly following him; at the Malibu beachfront house, on
location in Mexico (because it was cheaper then Canada) and most
recently, at his production company "11-21 Productions", located
at the 19th Century Wolf studios. Apparently, somebody broke into
his office ripped up three new scripts. Security guards claimed
to have seen nor heard anyone. But it really put the spook into
Carter Kriss.


     As he typed away on his latest script concerning a
Government plot to genetically crossbreed Virginian tobacco and
Columbian coca plants, he suddenly felt that there was somebody
else in the room. He turned in his swivel chair, and whispered
loudly "Who's there?!?". No reply. His wife had gone to bed hours
before. Maybe a stray cat outside? he wondered. Turning back to
screen he finished one sentence when he suddenly felt an odd
sensation go down his left leg. Frozen in fear, he stopped typing
and slowly lowered his left arm down under the chair. It was Warm
& Wet. He screamed maniacally. His startled wife ran down the
stairs and burst into the room. Carter Kriss was lying on the
floor, his soaked left leg sticking out in a V formation, as he
shuddered in grim repose. "What happened, honeybunny?" asked his
wife Samantha. "It...It..it...LIKE, WET ON ME!!!!"


Los  Angles International Airport (LAX), CA
May 7th, 1996
7:37am PST


     "Well, Scully...all I have to say is...HOOOOOO-RAAY for
HOLLY-Wooooood..." FBI Agent Fox Mulder exclaimed as he put on a
pair of fashion sunglasses. He reclined behind the wheel of a '96
Red Porsche 911 convertible, his flame red haired partner Dana
Scully trying to squeeze her suitcase in what was supposed to
pass for a trunk.
     "Skinner is going to going to go Hooo-ray on your expense
report when he see's what kind of car you rented, Mulder..."
     "I had more then enough frequent flyer miles to cover this
baby, Scully." replied Mulder as he started the purring motor.
"Besides, I thought we could at least look that we're in the
Movie capital of the known Universe, even extraterrestrials a
million years from now will know that."
     "Big deal, Mulder. The most recent movie I saw was "Fire in
the Sky", and that was due only to the sad fact that you were
bootlegging a copy in our office for Frohike and Langley." Scully
yelled over the motor as she fastened her seat belt; Mulder was
peeling out onto the freeway, tires smoking.
     "Well, how about the TV Capital of the world?"
     Scully crossed her arms and yelled back "You know very well
I only watch the PBS, CNN, and the Discovery channel! Why we've
been requested to investigate weird happenings on a equally weird
TV show, I'll never know."
     "What, you don't watch 'The Z-Folders"'? It's the best show
on TV!" Mulder exclaimed with a chime in voice.
     Scully looked out at the palm trees zipping by. "Oh wow,
Mulder... a show about two IRS auditors investigating voodoo
priests, undead gangsters, aliens dependents, and government
subsidy conspiracies; all supported by a cult of crazy internet
users and alternateen geeks with no social lives!"
     "What's that, Scully? You've been having a social life on
the side without telling me?" 
     "Oh shut up, Mulder!" came Scully's ticked off reply. "And
slow down! You'll get a ticket!"
     Mulder eased the seat back a bit more. "Come on, Scully...
you remember who got the only ticket between us! And Skinner did
tell us to get us out here and out to 19th Century-Wolf studios
and 11-22 Productions as quickly as possible, and since we had
that layover in Salt Lake City, I have to hurry!"
     "Really Mulder? Or do you just want to see that blond bimbo
on that ridiculous "Z-Folders" show? That's really why we're
here, I bet."  Scully looked serious, but Mulder could tell she
was humoring him.   
     He grinned. "So, how do you know that Jilly Gunderson IS
blond, Scully? 'Fess up, you watch that show!"
     Scully seemed unimpressed. "Mulder I don't have to watch The
Z-Folders to figure out that the female lead is blond. She and
that `Doo-whatski' guy are on every entertainment magazine at the
newsstand and the Internet is clogged every Friday night because
nearly every computer user is babbling about the episode, or
sending goofy stories to each other... " She stopped. "... and
take a look over there." She pointed at a billboard with a man &
woman in suits with "Working for the Government is KEWL!" above
their heads.
     "That's DONALD DUBROWTNIK, Scully! Which is why I'll guess
you aren't a member of the Donald Dubrowtnik Lust Brigade..."
     "I still think you just want to meet that blond actress!"
Scully interrupted.
     "Nonsense, Scully! After the cases with Doctor Bambi and
Detective White, you know I prefer redheads!"
     Mulder ALMOST avoided the back of Scully's hand.



Hollywood, CA
2:02am PST
     The Porsche idled up to the curb at 19th Century Wolf
studios, the driver wobbling out in spastic jittering compared to
the calm and collected pose of his female partner.
     "Well, Mulder...you handled that LA traffic rather... oh,
lets's say, swimmingly. We're only about 4 hours late!"
     Mulder practically crawled to sidewalk. "Those... people...
are... maniacs!"
     "Maniacs? At least they KNEW where THEY were GOING, Mulder!"
She glanced at her watch. "Come on, Mr Hollywood! We have a case
to solve."
     
     A crowd of young people were gathered around the studio
entrance; clad in various colored t-shirts, all decorated with
some sort of Z. As Scully & Mulder approached, two teenage girls
and a boy pointed at the approaching agents. As Scully & Mulder
got close, one of the girls stepped up to speak. "Excuse, but do
you work for the SUX network?"
     Scully was taken aback at the sudden question. "Uh, no, but
we do have business with ...."
     The boy, who was wearing a fake IRS badge on his Z-Folders
t-shirt interrupted excitedly. "Oh! You guys work for 11-21
Productions?!?"
     Mulder answered the second question. "No, we're just are
expected there right now..."
     "Are you extras for the Z-Folders?!?" the second girl asked.
     Scully answered again. "No, we're Federal investigators..."


     "DO YOU WORK FOR THE IRS?!?!?" came the reply in excited
unison. The crowd turned and looked up equally excited.
     Scully looked surprised for a second, then quietly said "Uh,
No, we're with the FBI, though..." 
     The trio of kids and the crowd suddenly lost all interest as
they went back to the preoccupation with trying to get in the
studio. "He's no Wolf Marker...." one of the Girls exclaimed in a
huff. Scully & Mulder slipped through the throng of fans, some
carrying photographs of the Z-Folder stars, other had video
cameras, still others with reams of paper, most likely scripts.
     
     The old guard at the gate didn't look up from his paperback
as Scully & Mulder stepped to the window. "Sorry, 'Z-Folders' is
on a closed set today...
     Mulder smiled at Scully and tapped at the window. "We're
Agents Scully & Mulder...we're with the Government..."
     The old man didn't bat an eye. "Yeah, I've heard THAT ONE
eight times today..."
     Scully angrily snapped back "Excuse me, SIR. We're Agents
Scully & Mulder, we're with the Federal Bureau of Investigation,
and we're here to talk with Carter Kriss about being stalked! Now
let us in!"
     The old guy looked up eagerly. "Whoa Nelly! You're one hot
little Spitfire! Wanna make an old man really happy?!?"
     Scully was shocked silent. Mulder tried desperately to keep
from laughing as he talked. "Could ...we...just.. get...
inside... ...sir?" A laugh barely squeezed out from his taint
lips.
     "Sure thing!" said the guard. "I'm off at noon, cutie pie!" 
     As they entered the studio, Scully stopped and looked at
Mulder angrily. "Don't you say a single word, Mulder..."
     "Sure thing...cutie pie..."
     Mulder narrowly avoided the back of Scully's hand once more.


     The pair of agents wander through the maze of 19th Century-
Wolf Studios, asking directions from everyone the met for 11-21
Productions. There were as many answers as people questioned, a
few even said Vancouver, Canada or Guadalahara Mexico. But one
thing was the same, every guy they asked made a failed pass at
Scully.
     Finally after an hour of searching,they arrived at the 11-21
Production offices, stopping at the front desk. She tapped on the
desk and a younger guard stepped forward. "We're here to see
Carter Kriss.." Scully said as she started reaching for her FBI
badge."
     "So do a lot of chicks, missy" The guard evilly grinned.
"But if you REALLY want to 'see' him, I can arrange it if you're
'nice' to me, baby..."
     Scully pulled out her badge and dangled it in front of the
now horribly surprised guard. "This is as NICE as I get, Rent-a-
Cop! Now move or you get Charles Manson as a roommate!"
     As the scared guard let them through, Mulder chirped up.
"You know, Scully...you could have filed a sexual harassment suit
against him and 19th Century Wolf studios, and retired..."
     "With all the inappropriate comments I've gotten today, I'd
have to BECOME a lawyer..."


     Scully & Mulder were escorted by the guard to a secretary,
who led them to a production assistant, who then led them an
assistant coproducer, who then led them to Mr Kriss' personal
assistant, who finally took them to the nerve center of 11-21
Productions. Inside, an athletic man with longish greying blond
hair was talking to an overweight man with slick black hair tied
into a ponytail and several pounds of gold chains around his half
unbuttoned shirt.
     "Mr Kriss? Agents Mulder & Scully from the FBI..." the
assistant said with an air of suspicion.
     The greyish blond man turned and heartily welcomed the pair.
"Oh Wow, man! You dudes are finally, like, here to protect me,
like you know..."
     The other man ignored Mulder and straight for Scully. "Well,
Well, ain't youse duh moist bee-utiful G-Man I ever did sees..."
he drooled in a slimy Brooklyn accent.  
     "Excuse me?" Scully disgustingly gasped, shirking away from
the sleezeball.
     Kriss stepped between Scully & Mr Brooklyn. "Uh, like hey,
Newbie...this is like the FBI dudette who's suppose to protect
me, man. Chill out, dude."
     Mulder nonchalantly asked "I take you used to surf, Mr
Kriss?"
     Kriss gave Mulder a "hang loose" handsign. "Dude! I suppose
you hang ten with the best in DC? Oh, Like I forgot, this s like
Tim Newbie, my head staff writer. He and I have like, final say
on all Z-Folder stories."


   Mulder smiled. I know, I've seen every episode." Scully
meanwhile composed herself and opened with the first question.
"Mr Kriss, you mentioned 'Protection for yourself'; whom do you
feel you need protection from?"
     Kriss looked around, and the drew close to Scully. "I'm
like, being stalked by a..." He lowered his voice. "I think...a
Ghost..."
     Scully burst out laughing. "A GHOST?!? I think you been
watching your show too often, Mr Kriss..." She turned to her
partner. "Hey Mulder, Surferboy here is seeing Phantoms! Isn't
that the stupidest thing you've ever heard?!?" She continued
laughing.
     Mulder didn't crank a smile. "No, Scully...I completely
believe him. That's why Skinner assigned us." He pulled out a
file. "See? X. X-File. Ghost. Right there in black & white and
signed by Walter Skinner. I just didn't want to tell you before
we got here so you wouldn't get mad."


     "Hey BAY-BEE, I's bet youse is even more bee-utiful when
youse is mad..." Newbie purred as he patted her on the rear.
     "GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME YOU SLIMEBALL!" Scully screeched
as she ripped Newbie's hand away from her backside. "Touch me
again and DIE!"
     "Sah-reee, Sister...must be one ah Janet Reeeno's little...
girlfriends... " Newbie angrily grumbled.
     Scully was now so mad she was turning as red as her hair.
She turned to Mulder. "Ghost? You want us to waste valuable time
guarding this goofball from a Ghost that's probably either a LSD
flashback or a over imaginative mind?" She turned back to Kriss.
"And just how did YOU get the FBI involved in this insane story?
You obviously don't how real Government agents work!" Scully was
turning purple with rage.


     "Hey, I know just how Government agents works, dudette...."
retorted Kriss, an air of Hollywood sophistication in his voice.
     Scully interjected as the rage subsided into subtle
antipathy. "And just how did YOU become an expert of how federal
agents conduct their investigations?"
     "I used to watch Efram Zimblist Jr in 'The FBI' when I was a
kid...like, well..before I, like took up surfing, anyway..."


     Mulder, deciding Scully was in no shape to start work on the
case, took out a pad and pen and began his investigation.. "So
when did you start getting these feelings of so-called dread and
foreboding associated with this alleged Spectral Stalker?"
     "Well, it was right after the episode "Quackmire" aired...
got a lot of e-mailed flak about that one, eh Tim?" Kriss looked
at Newbie and winced comically.
     "Yeah, a lot of *bleeping* Fluffy fans got *blanking* mad
over that one..."
     Scully looked at Mulder, then at Kriss. "Fluffy? Who's
Fluffy?" Her mind projected an image of a Dr Bambi type
character.
     Kriss waved his hands in the air descriptively. "Oh, Fluffy
was Razutto's pet Poodle she got in the episode "Ed Gruberman's
Final Retort". He was eaten by a alligator, which got Razutto so
ticked off she blew away the Gator Farm owner with her .44
Magnum, but we still haven't heard the last of it from a bunch of
wacky Internet Fluffy fans."
     At the moment Kriss mentioned "alligator", her mouth dropped
and her heart sank. She turned pitifully towards Mulder and tried
asking how they could have know about poor Queequag's similar
fate, but no words could come out.
     Mulder was equally surprised. "Uh...what made you want
to...kill...Agent Razutto's.... dog?" He put his hand on the now
trembling Scully.
     Newbie spoke up. "We we're just sick of all the requests for
more appearances by that *bleeping* mutt by *blanking* The Furry
Fellowship of Fluffy Fans..."
     "Like, we didn't even have, like a name for the dog until
like, Americans On Line Z-Folder Zealots had that mock vote to
name it." Kriss added. 
     "That's how you name your characters, Mr Kriss?" Scully
asked, having recovered from the memories of poor, poor Queequag.
"...by Internet voting?"
     "Oh of course not, Agent Scully!" replied Kriss rather
informatively. "For example Wolf Marker's name came from the
Studio and the pen I was using to highlight my initial letter,
Assistant IRS Director Leonard Skinhard came from my brother's
favorite rock band, and Diane Razutto got her name from former
New Yankee turned radio announcer & Money Store spokesman Phil
Razutto..."
     Scully looked confused. "You named your female lead
character after a gravelly voiced sports announcer? You are
nuts!"
     "Hey, wottsa matter with Phil Razutto? If it woin't for him
and duh Money Store, Ida never got ahtta Brooklyn!" growled
writer Tim Newbie.
     Mulder tried getting back to the case. " Uh, Mr Kriss;  why
would you say that your alleged stalker in fact of a spiritual
nature?"
     "Well, Uh, you know, like, there'd be no one in the room
when things would happen, like lamps falling over, newspapers
getting shredded, and pillows being ripped up. In fact, like,
I've had staffers verify that they've heard things late at night
in here when I'm, like, off surfing."
     Scully shook her head. "Mulder...it's rather obvious that Mr
Kriss is suffering from both overwork and stress from all
the...Fluffy fan harassment and had mentally created a imagined
paranormal threat to symbolize his situation."
     Kriss blinked. "Wow...Dudette! Cool idea! You ever thought
of writing for Television? We could use a new writer..."
     "Am I'd be moh deen happy to teach her...all the creative
Hollywood new-auncees...." Newbie repulsively whispered.  


     Scully, her patience with Hollywood Males at an end, threw
up her hands and headed for the door, abruptly stopped at it, and
turned angrily. "LISTEN! The next DORKHEAD who makes a pass at me
is going to be sorry he woke up this morning! I'm Out of HERE!"
     Just then, a pimply teenage pizza delivery boy appeared in
the open door. "Uhhh, Pineapple and Anchovy Pizza for Mr Kriss?"
He fumbled with the box and caught a glimpse of Scully. "Hey
BABY! Yer HOT! Wanna go out to my van and do it?"
     Scully turned and decked the kid with a swift right hook,
caught the pizza box, and threw it at Mulder. "Maybe you can get
the tip...." 


     Mulder talked to Kriss for about an hour after Scully
stormed out of his office. He found her sitting in front of yet
another secretary's desk, reading a magazine emblazoned with a
picture of the Z-Folder stars Jilly Gunderson & Donald
Dubrowtnik.
     "See, Scully? I knew you were a closet Z-Fan..."
     "Sorry, Mulder, but it's the only cover story I can find
here aside from the equally ridiculous Sunset Place or Santa
Monica 90113 shows...
     Mulder quickly changed the subject. "After about an hour of
hearing Kriss experiences with his ghostly stalker has made me a
bit more convinced. We actually have physical evidence of the
entity's existence..."
     "What? It has an agent?" Scully sarcastically replied.
     "No, we have some sort of liquified substance from Kriss's
pants. I've sent the whole pair to the LA FBI District Crime Lab
for analysis."
     "Are you sure it wasn't a spilt Pina' Colada?"
     "Scully, I'm serious!" Mulder said, giving her his "Scully,
I'm Serious" look.
     "Fine, Mulder...." Scully softly growled as she buried
herself in the magazine. "You go chase Ghosts, I'll go back to
Washington and tell Blevins you are nuts..."
     Mulder smiled wickedly. "Sorry, Scully... but our return
tickets are the discounted kind you have to wait at least 5 days
to use. Maybe we should head to the hotel, wash up, and go hit
the studio tour and maybe tonight a disco or two?"
     Scully mouth dropped open in admonishment, then closed in
anger. "So that's it! You DID want to meet that Gunderson bimbo!"
     Mulder stepped slowly back, still a grin on his face.
"Actually, Scully...I thought after solving the case we could go
to Disneyland! M-I-Ceeeee.... See you there Scully! K-E-
Yiiiii..."
     Scully buried her head in her hands. "Lord...give me the
strength to get through this and the wisdom to hide Mulder's body
when I kill him...."


19th Century Wolf Studios 
4:23pm PST
     Carter Kriss and Tim Newbie looked anxiously out the glass
side door of the 11-21 Production offices. "Do you see them?"
Kriss asked nervously. Newbie shook his chubby head. "Naaah,
dey's gone, Mr Kriss..."
     The pair stepped out into the parking lot and stopped at
Kriss's yellow Loutus Espirit. "You don't suppose they know
about...you know, like...the DOG?" Kriss voice wavered.
     "Dey's never mentioned it, and the chick sure was *bleeped*
off at being out heres." Newbie calmly responded. Kriss was not
as sure.
     "They weren't no Feds, fer sure..." Kriss said. "Ephram
Zimblist Jr never drove no Porsche, dude... I just, like, know
they're from the Film Board, or PETA, or the ASPCA, or
something."
     Newbie seemed assured. "Nah, I just think deys from the
Network trying to pressure us inna woikin' hahder. Seeyah Munday,
Mr Kriss..."
     As Newbie sauntered off, he suddenly heard a loud squeal of
horror and disgust. He turned and saw Kriss gripping the steering
wheel in panic. "Wot duh *bleep* happened?!?"
     Kriss leaned out the window and gasped. "I just sat in a
huge, slimy pile of...." He sniffed in repulsion. "....DOG POOP!"



End of Part 1/3
Comments & Critiques can be sent to RJChristen@aol.com

PART 2/3 of "BOO-Ray for Hollywood" by R.J. Christensen
Disclaimer: All Characters, Situatitions & Concepts are the
Exclusive Property of Chris Carter, 10-13 Productions, & The Fox
Network & has not been used with any permission.
-------------------------------------------------------------


Hollywood, CA
4:30pm PST


     Mulder walked out of the Hotel lobby to the Porsche where
Scully was waiting, he was smiling sheepishly.
     "Uh...Scully? We have a slight problem..."
     As her hands went up in frustrated waves, Scully looked
skyward and pleaded to the heavens. "What NOW, Mulder? They don't
have modem hookups or a fax machine in the rooms?"
     "Uh, they don't have any rooms available, since we were so
late getting out here, they gave our rooms away...to a bunch of
Z-Folder Zealots in for a Convention..."
     "THEY WHAT?" Scully shrieked un-Scully-like. "No rooms?" She
looked up and down the street. "Well, isn't there another one
near the studio? I'd hate to drive for hours to come back in the
morning."
     Mulder looked even more sheepish. "Uh, sorry Scully, but I
already looked into that...seems nearly all the motel rooms
within 2 miles of here have been sucked up by Z-Folder fans...."
     "What do you mean, 'Nearly all gone'? If there's a motel
with a mile of here, I'll take it...


     A few minutes later, Scully was eating her words. She and
Mulder were standing in front of a sleazy, broken down, fleabag
motel with a gaudy pinky neon sign blazing out "Swinging Star".
Several heavily made-up women strutted out on the sidewalk in
front. A couple of them were in fact, heavily made-up men. 
     "Uh, Mulder? I don't suppose this place is Triple A?"
     "I think it's more like Triple X, Scully...it's the kind of
place that usyually charges by the hour...unless of course you're
into that sort of thing." He grinned slyly as Scully gave him The
Look.
     "What other choice do we have?" she beggingly asked.
     "Uh....they don't take neither of our credit cards, and
since my cellular phone bill came in, it's the best I can
afford...unless of course you'd care for the Hollywood Blvd
Homeless shelter?" Deep down, Mulder was serious.
     Scully sighed. "Oh poo! I guess this will have to do for
now...SAY! Isn't that Charlie Sheen over there?"



Pacific Palisades, CA
May 5th, 1997
9:35pm PST


     Writer Tim Newbie was prepared for a hot time tonight. He
had gotten the motel room numbers of couple of female Z-Folder
Zealots who really wanted to meet Donald Dubrowtnik, but were
willing to settle for a writer. As he locked his condo door, a
sudden chill touched at his back. "Thatsa funny, Santa Anna windz
are usually wahm..." He buttoned the top 5 buttons on his silk
shirt. "I'll jist unbutton 'em whens I meet duh broads..." He
stepped away from the entry way when a low growl came from some
bushes. He froze. "Uuuh, noice doaggie..." he whispered as he
reached for his .38 snubnose in his coat. The growl grew louder
and pair of red glowing eyes appeared in the foliage. "AAAH!"
screamed Newbie as he pointed and fired. His self-induced
paranoias from writing for the Z-Folders ignited his fear. The
bullet zinged into the bush right between the two flashing eyes,
the growl turned into a bloodcurdling bark. Newbie ran for his
BMW, fumbling with the keys; the sound of snapping jaws behind
him. Newbie jumped on the hood of the car, denting it in as he
slid across to the driver's doors. He had just opened it when the
growling came from behind him. "How'd it git over here..." he
panikly squealed. He turned with the pistol outstretched. What he
saw horrified him. "NO! It can't be! It can't be!" he screamed as
he fired five shots at the approaching creature. With the
revolver clicking away at empty chambers, Newbie screamed as the
figure of an unearthly shape flew at him. Just minutes later, the
neighborhood security guards drove up in their golf cart, only to
find Z-Folders writer Tim Newbie ripped to shreds with a look of
horrified terror on his bloody face. 



Crime Scene
11:05pm PST
     Scully was kneeling over a set of tiny prints in the dirt,
just 3 feet away from where the yellow tape indicated where Tim
Newbie met his doom. "Yes, so they are dog prints, mulder...
little dog prints. So what?"
     "So it would seem that Carter Kriss isn't the only Z-Folders
staffer being stalked by something bizarre." Mulder said up as
Scully stood up. "Maybe he was killed by a dog?"
     "Oh come on, Mulder!" Scully retorted. "When was the last
you heard of 6'2, 260lb New Yorker being mauled to death by a
puppy? He was obviously attacked by an ordinary criminal and a
dog just happened to walk by the body afterwards."
     "A ordinary crook who forgot to take his victim's wallet?"
Mulder asked dryly as he read from the police report. "Over $300
in cash, 8 credit cards, and several packs of Troj...er, uh,
never mind."
     "Well, maybe it was a deranged fan who didn't like a story
he wrote or a former groupie he had sex with..."
     "Mulder looked puzzled. "Deranged Fan? With your description
of the typical Z-Folder fan, that doesn't narrow it down much."
     "Well, so what's your explanation, Mulder?"
     "It's reported that in India that tiger attacks against
humans are sometimes the work of disembodied spirits seeking
revenge against enemies in previous lives."  
     "Forget I ever asked, Mulder." Scully sighed. "At least the
cause of death is obvious; lacerations to the face and throat
resulting in shock and blood loss. And he apparently did try to
defend himself." as she pointed to a yellow-circled pistol.
     Mulder turned serious. "Whoever, or WHATever attacked him,
Newbie emptied his revolver at them. And I don't think he could
have been that bad of a shot."
     "At least he didn't drop his gun, Mulder..." Scully quipped.
     "One of these days, Scully.. Pow! Right in the kisser.."



19th Century Wolf Studios 
May 7th, 1997
9:15am PST


     Scully & Mulder arrived at the studio the next day, but only
after waiting through throngs of excited Z-Folder fans for over
an hour. A couple of kids, seeing their badges, asked Mulder if
he could get them some applications to the IRS. Scully, however,
got hit on by four fat, middleage UFO nuts, two pimply, teenage
male computer hackers, and the elderly Gate Guard, who was
drenched in 20 year old aftershave.
     After finally getting in, Scully & Mulder began to interview
the various staffers and studio employees. After 2 hours when by,
the decided to split up to cover more witnesses.


     "OK, Scully you handle these people and I'll take these."
Mulder said quicky as he handed Scully her list without even
showing his.
     "Let me guess, You're talking to Jilly Gunderson?" Scully
calmly replied, not even taking a look at her list.
     "Well, YOU called her a blond bimbo, so any possible
testimony you would get from her would probably be biased. So I
have to do it for you, Scully. Besides, YOU get Donald Dubrownik
to talk to; the fantasy of thousands of women across the globe!"
     "Not this woman" replied Scully. "I have better things to do
then slurp over some overpaid Hollywood actor. You talk to him."
     "Oh." Mulder replied. "I take it that you'd rather slurp
over Assistant IRS Chief Accountant Leonard Skinhard actor Matt
Piggie?"
      Mulder failed to avoid Scully's hand once more.


     In the first hour of their investigation at the studio,
Mulder found himself in the trailor of Z-Folder star Jilly
Gunderson. Her various acting awards were placed on a small
credenza behind as she signed 8x10 color glossy photographs of
herself on the desk between them. "Why no, Agent Mulder..." she
said as the pen squeaked as it flowed across the photo. "...I
don't know why anyone would want to harm MR Kriss or the show.
The crew are just so happy to working with him and from what I
saw at that last Z-Con in Sacremento, all our fans are just
enamored with him." She pursed her lavishly lush big lips as she
blew dry the dotted "i" in Jilly.
     Mulder barely heard her speak, his mind and eyes entrenched
on her long blond hair as it cascaded down around her lowcut
sundress. "She's even hotter in person then on the show!" Mulder
thought as he pressed on with his questions.
     "Any reports of overzealous fans on the set or sending him
hate mail?" Mulder asked in a slow, sexy drone that he had
previous been used on Dr Bambi and Detective White.
     "Well, the Z-Folder Fans are a bit on the zealous side; it
really did amaze me when I did my first Z-Con in Buffalo. Over
2500 of them crammed a Holiday Inn juts to hear me talk for an
hour. But most of them are rather nice kids." She smiled at
Mulder. "I'm just surprised that the FBI is out here to help Mr
Kriss get over his recent jitters."
     "So..Miss Gunderson...." Mulder said with all the cool charm
he could muster. "Would you be interested in how real federal
investigators...work...?
     "Gosh, Mister Mulder...I'd really like to hear about it, but
I have all these photos to sign right now." She seemed to have
caught his drift, but was playing hard to get.
     Mulder continued pouring on the charm. "Photos can wait,
Miss Gunderson, or can I say...Jilly? I could give you
some...real pointers into improving your... Undercover
Investigations?"
     "Let's cut to the chase, Mr Mulder..." Gunderson purred as
she laid down her pen. "...You want to have a flamingly torrid
bout of wild sex with me right here in my trailer..." She batted
her eyes flirtaciously and licked her lips. "..don't you...MISTER
M-m-m-m-m--m-m-m-m-m-m-mulder....."
     As eyes lit up like skyrockets, Mulder whispered back "You
know what I like..."
     "That exactly what I thought..." purred Gunderson, but then
her tone changed as she shouted "Hey guys! I got a live one here
for yah!"
     Just then, a burly hulk that might be mistaken for a long
lost Nethadathal quietly walked in and positioned himself behind
the surprised Mulder.
     "Miss Gundason not like Bad Man who hit on her. Mongo take
care of Bad Man." the hulk grunted as he pulled up Mulder by his
tie and tossed him out the trailer door. Jilly Gunderson went
back to her photo signing.


     Meanwhile, Scully found herself in a well-equipped music
room; recording gear, synthesizers and computer components
everywhere. Z-Folder Music Director Mark DeSpoot, his longish
greying hair tied into a ponytail, was playing a guitar as she
interviewed him.
     "So Mr DeSpoot, you are the musical director of the Z-
Folders?" she rhetorically asked.
     DeSpoot spoke softly as he strummed. "All three years we've
been on the air, but I'm also famous in Canada for other..."
     "Never Mind, Mr DeSpoot; what do you know about Carter
Kriss's alleged stories being stalked?" 
     "Well, I heard he was thinking that somebody was out to get
him, but he is a very famous person right now. It's the price of
fame. You know, I was already famous in Canada for my music..."
     Scully cringed at the question Mulder has written down for
her to ask, but she just simply reworded it. "Do you know or
heard about any one upset about the screen death of...Razutto's
dog... 'Fluffy'?" She cringed at the mention of that name, but
though it might bring up a name of some deranged Fluffy fan.
     "Why, I just ADOOOOORED that cute little poodle! I thought
Razutto should have called him "Quiche Lorraine" after the B-52s
song, but after the Americans On Line Z-Folder Zealots gave him
the name "Fluffy", I went out and wrote two little themes for
him! Want to Listen?" DeSpoot went over to his keyboard and began
playing a dainty piano waltz.
     "Fluffy...the Poo-dle, Fluffy the poo-dle; wacky, goofy,
cutsy little ball of fur...he's Fluffy the poo-dle...."
     Scully interrupted. "Uh, Excuse me, but that seems to be the
Theme from 'Winnie the Pooh'...."
     "It is? Ooops, maybe I should try this hipper, pop version
I've been working on..." He broke into a hipper, pop tune.
"Fluffy, Fluffy Poo...Where are You? We got some work to do
now..."
     "Uh, that's already taken, too." Scully added rather
sympathetically.
     "Oh nuts, and I had a killer bassline for that one, too." 
     Scully began getting up, knowing she couldn't get anymore
out of the musician. As she walked out, DeSpoot pitifully tried
again. "They call him Fluffy, Fluffy, Dog of the Zeeeeee....."


     After wait for an hour while the actor autographed various
body parts of several dozen female Z-Fans, Mulder finally got to
sit down and talk to the man behind IRS auditor Wolf Marker,
Donald Dubrowtnik.
     "It's a pleasure, Mr Dubrowtnik, I really do enjoy the
show." Mulder said as he shook the handsome actor's hand. "In
fact, Z-Folders is the biggest thing to hit the IRS since the
1040EZ Form! The tours of the IRS building are quickly becoming
Washington's number one attraction." Mulder had his autograph pad
& pen ready for action.
     "Hey, the pleasure's all mine Agent Mulder! I've never met a
real Federal Investigator before. And ever since taking on the
role, I've been looking forward to maybe getting some pointers
from you guys. Got any advise to help my character?"


     Mulder beamed. "Well, never use a computer mouse with your
weapon hand in dark room...." Suddenly, Mulder got the impression
he knew this man from somewhere else, on his TV set it seemed.


     "Thanks a lot Fox!" Dobrowtnik replied. "I can call you Fox,
OK?" he asked in a schwarmy hollywood tone.
     "Sure! No problem! Everybody calls me Fox!" Mulder beamed
back. "Can I call you Don?" he asked back.
     "Sure thing, Fox!" 
     "You know, DON...before we get started, I swear I've seen
you on TV before Z-Folders. Did you star in anything prior to
becoming Wolf Marker?"
     "Uh, no...er, uh nothing too important, Agent Mulder..." the
actor said rather nervously, which was picked up immediately by
Mulder's Pyschological knowledge.  
     "Are you sure? I swear I've seen you on TV before..."
     "No, I just did some stage work in college and a couple of
radio commercial voiceovers..."
     "But I am REALLY sure I've seen you before...on video..." 


     "OH ALRIGHT! I CONFESS!! I DID A COUPLE OF PORNO FLICKS IN
1982!" Dubrowtnik buried his head in hands. "It's true...it's all
horribly true..."
     "Ooops" muttered a red-faced Mulder. "Sorry about that, I
promise not to tell anyone...I can understand...about...wanting
to keep...this...kind...of thing...quiet..." Mulder whistled
nervously.
     Dubrowtnik kept wailing between his hands covering his face.
"I needed the money for school when my basketball scholarship to
NYU was canceled, and I read this ad in the 'Village Voice' for
actors, no experience needed, cash in advance, and it sounded
ok...."
     Mulder grinned embarrassedly. "Oh...you don't HAVE to go
into any...further...detail about....IT..."
     "Thank god I used the stage name "Peter Long", if those
cursed Zealots found out, I'd never hear then end of it..."
     Mulder nervously tapped his fingers. "You never starred with
THE Traci Lords, did you???"    
     


     After interviewing the Coproducers, the Line Producers, the
Studio producers, the field producers, the assistant producers,
and the associate producers, Scully finally found a non-producer
to interview. Scully knocked at a small door, with the "Janitor"
plate poorly covered over with a piece of paper emblazoned in
black ink marker "11-21 Productions Assistant 2nd Line Co-
Director Tom Woodbraid", with "Calcavikie" scribbled underneath.
     "S'open, come on in!"
     Scully entered to discover that was in fact a former
janitor's closet as the man inside was busily typing on a laptop
computer precariously balanced on a board atop the mop sink.


     "Mr Woodbraid?" Scully asked as she nervously stepped over
brushes, dried mop heads, and paint cans topped with reams of
multicolored paper.
     "That's me..." the man said, finally turning around on a
metal foot stool he was sitting on. "Assistant 2nd-line Director
Thomas Woodbraid, or as most of the known universe knows me,
Calcavikie the Lonely Computer Guy." as he bowed politely.
     "Lonely Computer Guy? Is that some sort of On-line name?"
     "No, the Lonely Computer Guys...we're the Z-Folder's
recurring trio of fun-loving computer hackers who help Marker &
Razutto with their cases..."
     Uh, nice to meet to you...Mr Woodbraid..." Scully distantly
replied. "I'm Agent Dana Scully with the FBI, and I'm here to
investigate Carter Kri..."
     Woodbraid cut her off with loud 'shoosh!' motioned her to
close the door and come closer. "I know why you're here..." he
whispered.
     Scully closed the door and thought "If he makes a pass at
me, I'll kill him..."
     Woodbraid, however, did not make a pass at her. "I assume
you got my message about what Kriss did down in Acapulco..."
     Scully was mystified. "Message? What message?"
     "You're not with the Film Board Internationale?"
     Scully looked dumbfounded. "No, I'm with the Federal Bureau
of Investigation, Mr Woodbraid. Now just what did Mr Kriss do
down in Acapulco" she asked with visions of typical Hollywood
debauchery  floating in her mind.
     "THAT FBI? I must have typed in the wrong E-Mail address..."
he embarrassedly replied. "No matter, I just have to tell
somebody about what I saw him do, I'm pretty sure it must a
federal crime." 
     "What did he do?" Scully knew she had hit the jackpot; it
had to be drugs, Krissbeing the typical surfer hippy clod.
     "Well, he killed him! That's what he did! Killed him right
in his office right in front of me with Newbie laughing his head
off as he did it!"
     Scully reeled back in surprise. "HE MURDERED SOMEONE?!?"
     "Murder? Well, maybe that's a little harsh term for a
dog..."
     "A DOG?!?!" Scully yelled. "He killed a dog? You want the
Humane Society, not the FBI!"
     "No, I meant to contact the Film Board Internationale, as
it's against all film regulations to kill a stage animal!"
     Scully dropped her anger at the mention of 'stage animal' as
she put together two pieces of the puzzle. "You don't mean the
dog who played Razutto's poodle?" she asked pensively, not
wanting to say the name "Fluffy".
     "Yup, kicked Sampson, that was the dog who played Fluffy,
clear across the room, Kriss did. Poor fella's neck was broke
when he landed head first in the printer..."
     "Why on earth would Kriss kick the dog? Didn't he belong to
anyone, a trainer or somebody?"
     "Well, Kriss, Newbie, & I were having a discussion on what
to do with our $9000 malfunctioning mechanical alligator, when
Sampson walked in, hopped up on the couch, and well...." He
stopped for a second then continued. "...He relieved himself on
Kriss 'Z-Folders: The Movie' script. That's when Kriss kicked
him..." He lowered his head in sadness. "We told the trainer he
ran off into the jungle...I fell so ashamed." Tears were welling
up in Woodbraid's eyes.
     Scully tried to be sympathetic. "Hey, I lost my dog
recently, too...well, assuming he was your dog.."
     He was EVERYBODY'S DOG!" wailed Woodbraid. "From the moment
Ed Gruberman gave him to Razutto in his will, the fans have been
just crazy about Fluffy! He got more fan mail then the Ukrainian
Wormboy!! And they made an electrionic fanzine just for him! And
he was going to be a guest at his ever first Z-Folders Convention
in Pittsburg next month!" At that, Woodbraid began sobbing. "He
was such a NICE DOG, too..." 
     


4:35pm PST
19th Century Wolf Studios Executive Building
11-21 Productions Office
     Carter Kriss paced back and forth, the sudden murder of his
head writer weighing deeply on his shoulder. The Z-Folders were
weeks behind schedule, SUX having to air reruns from the first
season to satisfy the fevered frenzy of the fans.
     He grabbed a pile of printer paper. "Maybe there's SOMETHING
in these fan-submitted scripts..." he wondered aloud, agonizing
over the fact he had thown out over 2 tons of previously
unsolicited material. "Marker & Razutto do it story, Fluffy
story... Marker & Razutto do it story, Fluffy story...Marker &
Razutto do it story, Fluffy story, Marker & Razutto do it...
Marker & Razutto do it.. Annisa Razutto comes back from the dead
story...Marker and Razutto do it with aliens..." He muttered as
he leafed through the stack. "ARRRGH! Even this *bleeping* CRAP
won't work! What am I going to do?" he screamed loudly.  
     Kriss threw himself at his computer and began frantically
typing. "I'll just bring back the Zombie Gangsters, throw in
Cigar Chomping Man and the Men In Lavender, have Razutto attacked
in the shower... this stuff practically writes itself..." Fingers
flew as he cranked out a crude script in about two hours. 
     "There, that ought to get McMurdo off my back for a
while..." Kriss hit the print command and the pages started
slowly coming out of the laser printer. When it was complete, he
picked it up and headed out the door.
     Suddenly, he tripped over something on the floor, even
though there was nothing there. The script flew to carpet, but
juts as Kriss was about to grab it, the pages flew across the
room, accompanied by a fierce growling. "NOOOOO! IT can't be!
Noooo!"
     He desparately grabbed the swinging papers, but something
had a firm grip on them. A tug of war erupted between man and
unseen entity, all the while Kriss was screaming for help. Just
then, Mulder burst in, accompanied by a secretary. At the same
moment, Kriss fell backwards into his rear end, holding the
mutilated script.
     "It ate my script! The Dog ate my script!"






End of Part 2/3
Comments, Critiques, & Curses can be sent to RJChristen@AOL.com

PART 3/3, "Boo-Ray for Hollywood"
Disclaimer may be found in Part 1 & 2, you know the drill.
This Part is rated PG-15 for *naughtiness*, so 14 yr olds will
need to ask their parents to read with them....
----------------------------------------------------------------


19th Century Wolf Studios Executive Building
11-21 Productions Office
5:37pm PST


     By the time Scully arrived on the scene, Kriss had fled his
office for the sanctity of his beachfront home. She found Mulder
sitting in the office holding a package.
     "So where's Mr Z-Folder?" Scully asked diligently.
     "He split for the beach right after he claimed that he was
attacked by his ghost...and not just any ghost..."
     "Casper the Unfriendly Ghost? Scully asked bemusedly.


     "No, a Ghost DOG..." Mulder answered in all ernest. "Claimed
it tripped him and then chewed up a script he was working on." He
stopped Scully from making any further comments. "I've seen the
script and the tears do suggest canine damage...and then there's
this..." He held up the package.
     "The soiled trousers?" Scully asked as she covered her face
with her hand. "I hate to ask, but what exactly was found on
Kriss' pants?"
     "Well, think back to what you hoped wasn't in the Purity
Control erlenmeyer flask..."
     "Puppy Pee?"
     Mulder smiled. "And a small dog at that, too Scully!"


     Scully started scratching her chin. "Uh, Mulder...did you
ask Kriss exactly why the animal actor who played...'Fluffy'...
hasn't been available for further roles on the Z-Folders?" 
     "Actually...no...I never thought to...why?
     "Because the internationally famous creator of the Z-Folders
KILLED HIM on location! I heard it from an eyewitness who saw him
kick the dog to death. That's why Kriss is seeing a so-called
ghost dog... plain and simple guilt of what he did."
     Mulder was shocked but was still a bit skeptical about her
theory. "But what about the doggie pee? And the torn script?"


     Scully stood arms akimbo and explained. "It's simple,
Mulder. Some deranged Fluffy fan found out about it via the
internet and decided to take revenge by tearing up a script. And
since Kriss is suffering from a mental collapse anyway, he's
imagining it's the ghost of Fluffy...er, Sampson...er, the animal
actor he killed..."


     Mulder tried pleading his theory. "But...But...But...But..."


     Scully's patience ended. "OH *bleep*, Mulder! Get it through
your head that this is NOT a X-File! It's NOT even a case for the
FBI! I'm calling Skinner first thing in the morning and going
HOME! And if you dare mention Ghost Dogs just one more time, I'm
going to have you sent to the nearest loony bin!" Now lets get
out of here!" She grabbed Mulder's tie and dragged him to the
rental car.



8:49pm
Swinging Star Motel
Hollywood CA
     That night, Mulder looked out the motel window. Dozens of
'z's hung in other nicer motel windows up and down the street.
Apparently the Z-Folder Zealots were out in force. He was about
to close the curtains, when something caught his eye. A big
purple neon 'X' was flashing from behind a gas station across the
street. "It's a sign!" he exclaimed and then raced down the
stairs. Moments later, Mulder found himself in front of an adult
video store, the purple neon X flashing away.
     "YES!" Mulder congratulated himself quietly. He began
reaching for his Adult Video News Discount card when he heard a
familiar voice ring out.
     "It is about time you showed Mr Mulder. I was getting tired
of being propositioned in this alley..." Out of the shadows
stepped the Mysterious Mr X.
     "I wonder what you'd be propositioned for..." quipped
Mulder, only slightly surprised at the sudden appearance.
     "Answers, Mr Mulder... my predecessor knew you always had a
weakness for answers."
     "The answer all depends on whether it's phrased in the form
of a question or not. " Mulder quipped again.
     "Those comic retorts are getting tired, Mr Mulder. Please
refrain from using them."
     "Oh all right..." sighed Mulder. "So what brings to you to
El Lay, X-Man? Trying out for the Z-Folders TV show?"  


     "No, Mr Mulder, I'm not interested in such a silly sci-fi
show. I'm here to tell you why you're here in Hollywood. Rupaul
McMurdo, the owner of the SUX network is very influential in very
high Washington circles, and I don't mean Tipper Gore's Deadhead
Listening Parties...."
     "Wrong Party, I assume..." quipped Mulder.
     "Quite correct, Mr Mulder. McMurdo is one of the top
monetary contributors to the Republican National Committee, which
is odd considering his Australian citizenship, Page Three Girl
tabloids, and sleazy TV programming."
     " `Married with Grown Teenagers' isn't exactly what I'd call
Good 'Family Values'...." quipped Mulder again.
     
     "WILL YOU STOP IT WITH THESE *blanking* MULDERISMS?!? It's
*bleeping* annoying, you *blanking* Idiot!" X soon calmed down
and continued. "Anyway, McMurdo's network profits went through
the roof when Z-Folders took off. And since it did present some
rather...let's say... unsavory things about Big Government, it
suits the GOP's ideology. But since Kriss has been showing signs
of a mental collapse recently, it looked as if McMurdo was going
to lose his sole quality show and thus lose millions in future
campaign contributions. That's why you and Agent Scully were
assigned to investigate his wild claims of so-called ghosts to
get him back working."
     "You mean Scully and I were sent out here to protect Kriss
from the ghost dog?" Mulder asked enthusiastically.


     "It wasn't so you could work on your suntans." X quipped.
Bemused by his X-ism, he continued. "Actually, THEY don't care
what is making Kriss lose control, just get him back to work. If
you fail in this task, certain elements of the Government will
not just terminate the X-Files, but possibly it's chief
investigators. Or Worse..." He glowered viciously as the words
came out.
     Mulder seemed noncommittal. "Worse then what?"
     "How about your government pensions?" 
     "NO! Not that! That's too Cruel!" Mulder cried as he shirked
back in horrified panic.


     Mr X shifted his footing and started to turn away. "Now, Mr
Mulder...if you can kindly excuse me; my wife is expecting me to
take her to the Soul Train Music Awards show...Get down on it, Mr
Mulder...." And with that, Mr X disappeared into the darkness.
  
     Mulder rapped maniacally at Scully's motel room door. But
when the door opened, he jumped back in horror as a turbaned,
green-faced mechanical monster opened it! 
     "AAAAAHH!!" Screamed Mulder as he jumped back behind a coke
machine.
     The Horrid Entity spoke. "Mulder, what is wrong with you?"
     "Scully?" Mulder peeked from behind the machine.
     "It sure isn't Pamela Anderson Lee or Jilly Gunderson!" She
instinctively covered up the front of her robe, even though it
was already well-covered. "It's just my night mask...and my
curlers." She embarrassedly zipped back in the room and began
taking the hair pieces out from underneath the towel. "Nice
Girlie scream, Mulder..."


     Mulder recovered from his scare, but was still rushed in his
newly found discovery. "Scully! You'll never believe what just
happened to me at the Adult Video store around the corner!"
     "I do not in my wildest dreams want to know what just
happened at any Adult Video Store around any corner, Mulder."
      Mulder began scrambling to collect Scully's clothes. "Get
dressed! We've got to hurry or something terrible is going to
happen!"
     Scully yawned as Mulder began shuffling through her luggage.
"What? Carter Kriss is going to get ghost dog wee-wee on his
chinos again tonight?
     "Worse! We're in danger if we don't get Kriss working
again!!" Mulder yelled as he dropped to look for Scully's shoes
under the bed.
     Scully seemed even less enthused. "Smoking Man is going to
hit on me now?"
     "Worse! We'll lose our pensions!"


     Scully flew over the bed into the bathroom, knocking Mulder
to the floor. "OUTTA MY WAY, MULDER! WE'VE GOT TO GET GOING!!"  



Malibu, CA
9:15pm
     As they raced to Carter Kriss' malibu beach home, Mulder
began piecing together his theory.
     "Scully! I think I have it! In the episode "Quackmire",
Razutto's dog Fluffy is eaten by an escaped alligator, which
occurred at 9:35pm Eastern & Pacific time. Newbie was killed at
9:35 last night, and Kriss's attacks occurred at 3:35am, which is
9:35 in Australia, and at 11:35, which is 9:35 in Honolulu.
     "So you're saying that your 'Ghost Dog' keeps better time
then Kriss's Rolex watch? I still think it's a deranged Z-Folder
fan! Only somebody like that could remember the exact time some
trained animal was killed off screen." She choked a bit,
remembering her own poor, poor Queequag.
     "Hey, you told me that Kriss killed the real dog who played
Fluffy at exactly 9:35pm Mountain time in Mexico. You explain all
the chronological coincidences!"
     "I said it before; only one of those demented fans could
remember such trivial bits of information and then act upon it. I
read some of Kriss's E-mails from the mad Fluffy fans; they fit
nearly every pathological profile of stalkers to a 't'. If I was
getting mail like that, I'd start imagining phantom killers
behind every door, too!"
     The tires squealed as Mulder rounded a corner. "Then why
does he think it's a phantom dog? Why not a tax evading Romainain
count or an undead Mafia Don?"
     "Like I said before, Mulder, guilt from having kicked
Fluffy, er Sampson to death." She clutched the seat as the
Porsche skidded on the road as Mulder turned. "And Slow down,
Mulder..here's the turn o..."


     The Porsche skidded into the turn and banged up against the
guard rail, sending dirt and small rocks over the 50' cliff.
     "Hey Mulder! Deadman's Curve is no place to play!"
     "Well, there goes my deposit....."


Kriss Residence
9:31pm
     The Malibu mansion was dead quiet, only the monotonous low
crashing of the waves and a incoming night wind provided any
sound. Scully & Mulder bolted from the Porsche, weapons drawn in
case Kriss's stalker was nearby. Scully got to the gate, only to
stop when Mulder went back to the car to set the parking brake,
turn off the lights, turn on the alarm, and place the steering
wheel lock in place. 
     "Next time, you rent a Yugo!" scolded Scully.


     As Mulder knocked at the glass front door, he suddenly heard
a man scream inside. It was Carter Kriss. "Quick, Scully! Kriss
is in trouble!"
     "I'll take the back!" Scully yelled as she pulled out her
sidearm and took off for the rear of the house.


     Mulder tried breaking in the house; first trying to knock
down, then kick in the glass door; it didn't budge. Apparently,
it could only be done in the movies. He reached for his pistol
and fired at the glass. Still nothing. Running out of ideas, he
mindlessly tried the knob. It opened. "Million dollars in
security and he forgets to lock the door..."


     Meanwhile, Scully was trying to break in every door and
window on the lower floor. Finally, she turned around the corner
and saw a medium sized doggie door in the basement door. "Well,
here's to Jenny Craig..." Scully muttered as she began squeezing
through.


     Mulder slipped in and then heard Carter Kriss scream in
terror and then begin gurgling horribly. Racing to the sound of
the scream, Mulder saw Kriss struggling on the floor with a can
of Die Flea Die floating over his head, spewing the white powder
all over his head. Mulder instinctively grabbed the first thing
he saw, Kriss' Wooden World award for Best Drama Series, and
waved it in the air.
     "Here boy!, Here Fluffy! Here boy! CATCH!" yelled Mulder as
he tossed it across the room.
     As the award rolled on the floor, the floating flea powder
can fell and Kriss began gagging on the powder in his mouth. In
the moonlit dusting of flea powder, Mulder thought he saw tiny
paw prints appear. He fired blindly as he screamed  "Get out of
here, Kriss!", to which the producer scrambled to his feet and
stumbled towards the patio door.


     But just as Kriss threw open the sliding door, Mulder again
thought he saw a whizzing shape fly through the air towards the
terrified producer. Mulder got two rounds off, but apparently
missed the invisible attacker as four paw-shaped impressions
appeared on Kriss's back.  
     "G-g-g-et it off of Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" Kriss screamed as
he toppled over the side of the patio railing. A disgustingly
slurpy thud was all Mulder heard next as he arrived on the patio
too late.
     Mulder looked down at the beach, just as Scully came up from
the lower floor. Carter Kriss' dive off the patio had impaled him
on one of his very own surfboards. As he looked down, Mulder
imagined tiny paw prints trotting away from the scene, only to be
blown away by the evening winds. The Z-Folders creator's face was
a frozen visage of horror and Mulder knew it wasn't from the
board sticking out of his body.
     Arriving at the railing, Scully looked down at Kriss's body
oozily sliding down on the board. She then looked at Mulder. "If
you say "Wipe Out", Mulder....I'm going to sock you..."
     Mulder gulped. "How about 'Surf's Up, dude'?"


     He ALMOST avoided Scully's fist once more.


Hollywood, CA
May 8th, 1997
11:35am
     The next day at 19th Century Wolf Studio was one of mad
chaos. The Z-Folders was put on immediate holding and a big press
conference was schedule to be held on CNN, E!, and carried live
on the Internet. Scully & Mulder, however, were not at all
interested in what fate awaited the show, the studio, the fans,
or the SUX Network; only in that they had failed. Mulder was
resigned to accept the fate Mr X had warned him about, but Scully
decided to take the offensive to save her job & pension.


     Crossing her arms in disgust, Scully snapped at her partner.
"Mulder, this has to be, above and beyond the stupidest excuse
for a case I have been on in my entire FBI career, and that
includes all times I nearly got killed by crazed axe murderers
and assorted other sickos! I can't believe Skinner could define
this as a X-File. Then again, Hollywood IS an X-File all by
itself!"
     "What makes you say that, Scully?" replied the dejected
Mulder.
     "Aside from being hit on by every degenerate producer,
assistant producer, co producer, associate producer, best boy,
grip, gaffer, and male extra on this studio lot, the idea that
Carter Kriss was being haunted and then killed by a phantom of a
canine character he supposed killed in an episode about alligator
farm subsidies is completely ludicrous!" She was quite angry,
both from all the male jerks and the thought of her own poor,
poor Queequag.


     "But Scully, you have to believe me about what happened! A
phantom dog really DID attack Carter Kriss! We have Woodbraid's
statement, the poodle pee, the scratch marks, the paw prints, and
what about all that Die Flea Die powder at the attack scene?"
     Scully seemed completely unconvinced, her tone lowering to
show her increasing anger. "Mulder, Carter Kriss was a overpaid,
undercreative ex-surfer boy who just happened to strike it rich
with a completely ridiculous idea for a TV show that appeals to
undersocialized computer nerds! Apparently years of drug use have
addled what little brain he had left, evidenced by his wild
hallucinations of a 'ghost dog" and by his attempt to snort all
that flea powder, it's apparent he just fell over the side and
landed on his surfboard! Get it Mulder, there is NO CASE HERE and
NO reason for us to further waste anymore time here in this
insane excuse for a entertainment center!"
     "But...But...but.." Mulder stammered.
     "No Buts, Mulder! Go get the rental car and let's leave...
NOW!" She was steaming mad as Mulder had never seen her.


     As Mulder turned and left, Scully stood alone next to the
soundstage, tapping her foot to alleviate her fuming temper. Just
then, the stage door opened and out stepped a youngish man in
black clothes with long hair and a slight beard. The two bumped
into each other, sending her purse and his paper bag to the
ground, but the man caught Scully just as she was about to fall.


     "Oh! I'm terribly sorry, miss! Are you alright?" He knelt
down to pick up Scully's purse as she picked up his bag.
     "Oh, my fault! I should have been paying more attenti...."
Scully looked at the man. He seemed familiar in a way, but she
just could not exactly place his face. "Uh...thank you,
Mister...." She looked deeply into his blue eyes, visions of him
sailing through her mind. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"


     "Maybe you've seen me on the Z-Folders; I'm Klyde Klink, I
play Lungford the Lonely Computer Guy, and I'm also the assistant
Art director for the show." He looked at the happily puzzled
Scully inquisitively. "You know, I also get the feeling I know
you as well. You're not in the LA Medieval Society, are you?"
     "No, I don't watch much television or am in any Medieval
Society..." Scully's anger was completely dissipated as unknown
memories began swirling through her mind. "But I do get the
distinct impression of seeing you in medieval costume as well."
She shyly looked around and thrust her hand forward. "Oh, my
name's Scully, Dana Scully. I'm with the FBI. We, er I, was
investigating Carter Kriss's bizarre behavior up until his
untimely demise last night." Scully's mind raced with the various
memories of knowing this man and trying to place it. "I really
don't want to sound odd, but I would swear I've known you for...
ages..."
     Klink's face lit up. "You know, I was about to say the same
thing!" He pointed at his bag. "I just ordered some sushi for
lunch, but my dining partners all took off. You wouldn't mind if
I asked you to share? Maybe we can talk..."
     Scully beamed. "Why yes, I would like that very much...maybe
we can figure out where we met....you know, I really do feel I've
known you somewhere before....."  
     "Well, my production trailer's just over there; it's air
conditioned. You don't mind if we ate in there, do you, Dana?
     Scully slung her purse over her shoulder and took Klink's
arm. "It is rather warm out here, Klyde... so why not?"  
               
     Fox Mulder shuffled to the 11-21 Production Office, which
was overflowing with panicking employees running out with as many
office supplies as they could carry. Suddenly, a black Mercedes
limo pulled up. Out stepped SUX network owner RuPaul McMurdo and
a very well dressed older man, surrounded by various aides and
accompanied by a petite young blond woman. Finally coming out of
the limo was actor Donald Dubrowtnik, who waved at Mulder and
starting walking over as a unearth scream arose from the crowd.
     "Hey Fox, baby! You still here?"
     "Dubrowtnik... You seem rather happy for a guy who's about
to lose his job...since Kriss died last night" came Mulder's
answer, complete rejection in his voice.
     "Kriss? Oh, I'm sorry about that, but why would I lose my
job?" Dubrowtnik asked as he scratched his head.       
     "Well, he WAS the Z-Folders Creator and Executive
Producer..."
     Dubrowtnik chuckled. "Yeah he WAS, but McMurdo just got the
Z-Folders a NEW Executive producer, Error Speiling!"   
     "You don't mean the guy who makes 'Santa Monica 90113' and
'Sunset Place', do you?"
     "You bet! In fact, his daughter Tora is going to write and
direct a few episodes! Looks like me and Jilly will be doing the
wild thing on the small screen pretty soon. Fans will finally get
what they've been begging for! Not to say what I've been begging
for; wink wink, nudge nudge, knowhatimean, knowhatimean?"


     "You live the wild life, Dubrowtnik. It must be incredible
having all those fans practically worshipping you." Mulder said
as he gestured over at the crowd of screaming female fans who
were gathered at the front gate, sadness in his voice.  
     "You can say that again! I had about 3 dozen pairs of
panties thrown at me during a convention in Omaha! I get 400 plus
e-mailed love letters a week! And if you had told me I'd be one
of People Magazine's 50 Most Beautiful People five years ago, I'd
have laughed in your face! I feel like the luckiest guy on the
planet!"


     "Sure beats my job situation. Scully thinks I'm a nut, my
boss wants me fired, the entire FBI laughs at me, I have no
social life, and I'm going to lose my government pension..."
     "Hey, you're a good looking guy! Maybe you should come out
here and start an acting career! You'd be a natural!"
     Mulder scratched his chin and pondered that last thought.
"But I've never taken acting lessons..."


     Dubrowtnik laughed again. "Hey, neither have 2/3s of the
actors out here already!" He reached for his filofax in his coat
pocket. "Here's my agent's card, Fox...give him a ring, and we'll
get you started, okay? Just think about it, dude!" Dubrowtnik
handed Mulder a business card and started into the office. As he
went in, Dubrowtnik yelled out. "Let's Do Lunch sometime, Fox!"
     Mulder looked at the card, then at the throng of young,
nubile female fans screaming on the other side of the chainlink
fence. 
     "I think I'll go ask Scully what she thinks..."


     Scully wasn't where he left her, so Mulder began searching
for his missing partner. But after an hour of asking anyone he
met, there was no trace of Scully. "I hope she didn't take a bus
back to the airport..." he wondered. As he rounded the corner of
a neighboring soundstage, Mulder heard suddenly Scully cry out in
a way Mulder had never heard her cry out before. It was coming
from a trailer nearby. Pulling his Sig Saur of his chest holster,
he raced towards the yelping shrieks of his partner. Horrible
visions of Scully being tortured roared through his mind. He
raced up to the door, the cries turning in to a staccato of deep
moaning wails, an unearthly scream, and then---- dead silence.
Fearing the worst, Mulder kicked the door in and broke in with
his sidearm out in a combat stance. "FREEZE! FBI!" he screamed
almost instanaeously.
     But just as the last syllable came out of his mouth, Mulder
stood in complete shock. There in a mountain of pillows was
Scully, her naked legs and arms wrapped around a equally naked
Art Director and Lone Computer Guy Klyde Klink, who was holding
her in his arms and on his lap whilst in the midst of what Donald
Dubrowtnik used to do in front of a camera. Breaking their deep,
impassioned kiss, they both turned their heads and froze in a
momentary state of shock, surprise and utter embarrassment.
Plates of partially eaten sushi sat on the table; Scully's
brasserie hung from a camera tripod with her coat next to her.


     Klink stammered. "Uuuuhhhh, y-y-your boyfriend?"
     Scully's erotic wailing had turned to maniacal screaming.
"MULDER! WHAT THE *bleep* ARE YOU *bleeping* DOING HERE?!?!?


     Mulder lowered his pistol and sheepishly grinned and
shuffled his feet as he edged backwards. "Uh, taking notes for
the next season of the Z-Folders??"
     Scully responded by reaching for her Sig-Saur and fired
twice at Mulder. "GET the *blank* OUT OF HERE, YOU *bleeping*
*blank*!" She was quite angry.
     Mulder dove out the door, frightened more by his partner's
tone then from the bullets..... 



                            EPILOGUE
Washington DC
May 9, 1997
10:13am EST
     Skinner returned to his office after a conference call down
the hall. Inside was the unexpected figure of the Cigarette
Smoking Man, a Marly cupped neatly in his hand. Bluish rings of
tobacco exhaust hung in the sunlight pouring from a quarter open
curtain. Skinner didn't sit down, he instead headed directly
towards the mysterious bureaucrat.
     "Well, I hope you're happy, mister! You finally got what you
wanted!" Skinner hissed as his tanned faced darkened with rage.
     "And what would that be, Assistant Director Skinner?" the
seated man asked calmly as he placed the cigarette between his
thin lips and inhaled deeply.


     Skinner threw a single sheet of tissue-like fax paper into
his adversary's face. "THIS! The resignations from the Bureau of
agents Mulder & Scully!"
     The Cigarette dropped from Smoking Man's mouth in complete
shock. "WHAT? They QUIT? No Way!" he wailed.
     "Read it and weep, cancerbreath!"
     Holding the fax, still undercut by Skinner's statement,
Smoking Man read the words. "This is too weird, man!  They can't
quit now! I was just testing them! I was going to tell Mulder
everything he wanted to know! The whole truth and nothing but the
truth! Tell him his sister was a transfer student to Galaxy High
and is now a Special Agent in the Space Rangers...and that
Melissa Scully was rebuilt as the Bionic Woman and is on
assignment in Russia with the OSI! Golly Gee! I feel so bad!"


     "Well you should have thought of that before, Einstein!"


     Smoking Man nervously reached for a pack of chewing gum and
tossed two slices in his mouth. "But why? Why did they quit? What
happened?" He was clearly upset.


     Skinner looked out the windows, and sighed deeply. "They've
decided to forsake all their duties, all their responsibilities,
all their beliefs....and went over to...the other side..."
     "You can't mean they......"
     "Yes, Theodore....They quit the FBI to become..." Skinner
grew sickened at what he was about to say. "They've decided to
become... Television actors...


     "Ah gee, Wally! What are we gonna do now?"



                             The End
                                ?



Comments & Critiques can be sent to RJChristen@aol.com
I hope you managed to keep your sanity while reading this.