From AbreeBB@aol.com Sun Dec 15 19:03:47 1996 Christmas Brownies - Abree Brand - PG Classified SH Christmas story Frohike sends the agents some yummy brownies for Christmas! ********** A DISCLAIMER: I don't own the X-Files. It is owned by FOX, 10-13, and He Who Controls Our Lives (aka Chris Carter). Don't sue me. It's Christmas. I have no more money. I apologize in advance. Please comment at AbreeBB@aol.com. ********** Christmas Brownies by Abree Brand AbreeBB@aol.com The doorbell rang. Mulder leaped up, ducking the hanging strands of tinsel that had fallen askew and opening the door. It was Scully, holding a box. "I found this on your doorstep," she explained as she walked inside. Mulder took the package from her. "Merry Christmas, from Frohike," he read aloud. Scully glanced at the package with a new air of distrust. Mulder tore off the gaudy paper and opened the box. "Relax, Scully, it's not a bomb." It was in fact a stack of fifteen or so brownies, heaped with frosting and looking extremely tempting. "It's probably got some sort of aphrodisiac in it," Scully said, her wariness being swayed by temptation. Mulder picked one up and took a bite. "Actually, these are very good," he said after a moment. He proffered the box to Scully. She picked it up with the tips of her fingers as though it was something she'd normally encounter in the autopsy bay. She took a hesitant bite, then another. "Okay," she admitted, "they're good. So we've established that Frohike can cook." Mulder didn't answer. Scully didn't notice, because her mind was currently occupied trying to figure out why the room was swaying in front of her. She tilted to the left, then to the right, then forgot about left and crashed down to the floor. Mulder was dimly aware of a thump, but it took him several minutes to realize it was Scully crashing to the floor. He looked down, his brow creasing. "Scully? What's going on?" She didn't answer. He frowned in annoyance. "Scully! Scully, you're growing wings. Cut it out." Scully stood unsteadily and glared at him. "I can grow wings if I want to!" she shrieked. "Why are there horns coming out of your head?" He ignored that minor problem and circled around to Scully's back. "I'm telling you Scully, you shouldn't be growing wings!" He tried to pull them off but failed to get a grip on them. Scully finally shoved him away. "If you can have horns I can have wings!" she proclaimed loudly. "No, Scully! You can't have wings! What will Skinner say?" Before she could answer, Mulder crumpled to the floor, curling into a fetal position. Scully backed away from him warily. "Mulder, stand up." He didn't. Scully's voice reached a hysterical pitch. "Mulder, stand up! Mulder, you're turning into a lawnmower! Mulder! Mulder!" But it was too late. The transformation was complete. Mulder glanced miserably at Scully from his lawnmower state. "I'm sorry, Scully," he whispered. "I didn't mean to turn into a lawnmower. I didn't. I'm sorry." Scully collapsed to her knees. Mulder winced as her wings caught on the sharp edge of the coffee table. "Scully, if you're going to keep your wings at least try not to mutilate them!" "Mulder, forget about my wings," Scully wailed, almost near tears. "Wings aren't a big deal. I can live with them. But talking lawnmowers, Mulder? You'll be an outcast! Shunned from society! You'll have to quit the FBI and be used to cut lawns at Cancer Man's will!" Mulder rattled in the agony of it all. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. "Scully! You're a doctor! Can't you change me back?" "No, I don't have the proper equipment!" She paused. "If only there was some way to get to a hospital. They could help you change back!" "9-1-1, Scully! Call 9-1-1!" Scully reached for the phone on the coffee table, shredding her left wing. Mulder cringed and closed his eyes. Scully concentrated on the box with the numbers on it. She looked around, found "9" and pressed it, but failed to see a "11" key. "Mulder, it's no use!" she shrieked, throwing the phone up into the air and not noticing when it struck her directly on the head. "The numbers only go up to 9! There is no 11!" Mulder was silent for a very long time, contemplating this problem. Scully waited, after a few minutes rubbing her head and wondering what had left that huge knot. Finally, Mulder finally began to speak, paused for two minutes, then started again. "What if you pressed "9," then pressed "1," and then "1" again?" Scully jolted upright, neatly slicing her right wing down the middle. "Mulder!" she screamed. "Now is not the time to start throwing out insane theories! You're going to turn into a lawnmower permanently and you start babbling on about hitting the same button twice!" "Scully, you have to believe me!" Mulder said vehemently. "For the first time in your life, believe! Believe in 9-1-1! Believe in 9-1-1!" Scully picked up the phone as he continued to chant crazily. She did as he had suggested. After a moment she screamed and threw the phone against the wall. "There are voices inside that box!" she shrieked, clambering over to a corner of the room as far away from the phone as possible. "Stay away from it Mulder! The voices!" After a few moments the voices died down. Mulder and Scully huddled in resigned silence for a few moments. "I guess I'll be a lawnmower forever," Mulder said sadly. "I'm sorry, Mulder," Scully whispered. "If it weren't for the voices you would've been saved." Another moment of silence passed. "Ya know, Scully," Mulder began, "I still think you should get rid of those wings." A screaming match ensued, mainly on the topics of wings, lawnmowers, which was better and which would be more likely to send Skinner into a fit of hysteria. By the time the paramedics arrived, it was an even draw. ********** The next time Mulder opened his eyes, it was in a hospital. He found his arms, legs, and finally noticed the dull throbbing pain in his head. A lawnmower no longer. He groaned, remembering the insanity of the night and wondering where Scully was. "Mulder?" He turned his head to the left. Scully was in the hospital bed next to him, wingless and pale. "What happened, Scully?" he asked. She sat up gingerly. "It was the brownies, Mulder. Not only were they chock full of hallucinogens but they had a healthy dusting of cigarette ashes as well." Mulder groaned. "What day is it?" "Christmas," Scully admitted. "We've pretty much missed Christmas." "That black lunged son of a - " "Mulder? Merry Christmas." "Merry Christmas, Scully." ********** I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. Now comment please! Or else I’ll make this a series. "New Years’ Punch," "Chocolate Easter Bunnies," "Candy Apples on Halloween." The possibilities are endless! ::::laughs evilly::::: Abree Brand AbreeBB@aol.com