From as346@chebucto.ns.ca Wed Jan 22 19:21:42 1997

*sigh*

This sucks.

I'll admit it now.

Humour me.

Please.

And send me something.

Please.

Just "I read this" will be fine.

You don't even have to sign your name.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Disclaimer:I'm not feeling corporate enough to attempt to make money off of
           Mulder and Scully.  Fox SuX, but CC and 1013 are cool.  All own
           The X-Files and the characters within.  Not me.  But I will.
           Someday.  Mwa ha ha...

Rating:PG
       AH for Attempted Humour

Dedication:Thanks to my bestest pal Andrea for giving me this idea en 
           francais ce matin.  Je suis tres, TRES desolee, mon amie.

On with nothing...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
		       The C-Files:Keep Me Rockin
                            by Tara Thorne

   Sixteen hours.

   They had been in the same car, across from the same white stucco house,
on the same street with no name.

   Dana Scully sighed.  She had been stuck in the same car with the same
snoring for almost four hours.  At least.

   She leaned forward on the steering wheel.  Both seats had been tilted back
to a position that was parallel with the round, in case there was a need of
a quick disappearance.  Or a "quick" nap.

   She glanced at her partner, dozing in the passenger seat.  He had had to
stech out so far that he was almost in the back.  His mouth was open and
rolled to the side, and he was snoring lightly.  Not loudly, but just enough
to be irritating in the perpetual silence of their surroundings.

   They had been waiting for one specific man to come out of the house.  They
were then supposed to follow him to an unknown destination, where they would
assumedly find a drug cache.  But they hadn't seen him sincenhe went *into*
the house at 9am the day before.

   Mulder hadn't wanted to be part of the case, it wasn't "his department",
which could explain why he was unworried about the outcome.

   His watched beeped and Scully jumped at the noise, its sharpness ripping
through the suburban quiet.

   Mulder jolted and shook himself awake.  Sitting up sleepily, he asked,
"So did I miss anything?"

   Scully shrugged, still staring out into the street.  "Nothing but your
average insomniac-jogger-dog walker-mugger target," she replied.

   He grinned.  "You wanna sleep now?"

   She shook her head slightly, then thought about it.  On one hand, she
didn't want to miss anything, but on the other hand Mulder could wake her up
if need be.

   She pushed herself away from the wheel and back against the seat.  It
was more comfortable than she would have thought, plus she had considerably
more leg room than Mulder did.

   As she closed her eyes and settled into a position, she felt herself
bounce as Mulder flopped back down.

   She opened one eye slightly, curiously, cautiously, to find him propped
up on one elbow, staring at her intently with a twinkle in his eye and a
slight grin on his face.

   She cocked an eyebrow.  "What?"

   "I'M not TIRED," he informed her, opening his eyes wide to accentuate the
point.

   She stared at him for a moment.  "So?"

   "So..." he smiled widely, "neither are you."

   She rolled her eyes and groaned inwardly.

   He was bored.

   This was bad.

   "Now what?" Scully sighed.

   He rolled on his back and shrugged.  "I dunno."

   He lifted his left leg suggestively, angling it towards the steering 
wheel.

   Scully hurriedly raised her own leg to block him, fearful of the 
possibilities.

   "NO," she told him firmly, giving him a Look as she held his leg suspended
above the wheel.

   He put his head back and laughed.  She backhanded him on the arm, 
reminding him that they were supposed to be quiet.  He slapped a hand over
his mouth and bent at the knee, his leg resuming its original position.

   But not before he hit a button.

   A button wihch turned on the radio.

   A radio which had been turned up full tilt.

   Because a favorite of Mulder's had been playing beforehand.

   A startling crash of guitars and drums threatened to break the sound
barrier and wake the neighbourhood, not a good thing under the circumstances.

   Scully flinched at the sound and lurched up, punching violently at the
control panel of the Taurus.

   Windows rolled down, up, and back down again.  The wipers wiped, the
headlights flickered and once, only once, and totally by accident, the horn
sounded.

   She got the radio off, once.

   Twice.

   Five times.

   Mulder was there as soon as she pressed the button, bursts of sound 
emitting every other second.  She snapped at him, trying to control the urge
she had to scream, but he just laughed, unable to say anything.

   And so they fought.

   Wrestled really.

   Mulder laughed.

   Scully hissed.

   Outside, the door to the white stucco house opened.

   A man emerged, calmly and normally, as anyone would.

   He didn't look like the head of a drug cartel.

   As the bus pulled up at exactly 1:21am, the man looked across the street
and squinted oddly.

   The Taurus was rocking.

   He shook his head and chuckled to himself as he deposited his fare and 
found a seat.

   "Those FBI Agents..."

---END---

Yeah.
You know you laughed.
I heard you.

Now that I've finished wasting your time, you might as well take 30 seconds
more (your night's shot anyway) and send me the line described above at
as346@chebucto.ns.ca

Don't say I didn't warn you.

And if you tell me I suck, I won't even consider it a flame.  If you attach
adjectives, that's different.  But "You suck" is fine.

This story isn't even worth adding "mwa ha ha..."

I'm sure you'd be scared.

******************************
*Hello Mr.Zebra              *
*Can I have your sweater?    *
*Cause it's cold, cold, cold * 
*In my hole, hole, hole...   *
*                            *
*   -Tori Amos               *
******************************