From: miranda119@juno.com Date: Sun, 29 Dec 2002 04:11:42 GMT Subject: Culinary Secrets of the Domestically Challenged by Miranda and Katch Source: direct Title: Culinary Secrets of the Domestically Challenged Author: Miranda and Katchat Category: Humor Spoiler: Arcadia/Missing Scene Rating: G Summary: Mulder and Scully's dinner at home. Recipe for disaster. Disclaimer: Chris didn't put this scene in, but we are pretty sure it happened. * * * * * "Mashed potatoes again?" Mulder whined at a pitch that to Scully seemed to "just about take her knees out." She rolled her eyes from her seemingly designated place at the stove. "You know, you're always welcomed to come over here and make something yourself." She muttered without lifting her gaze from her admittedly quite lacking mashed potato dish. "You're the one that wanted to play house, Scully. Isn't that what happens? The woman's place is in the kitchen." "Okay, you want to talk about places? How about you take yourself out in the garage and do something with the trash?" "Why, is there something out there that tastes better than these potatoes?" He asked without missing a beat. Suddenly, the spoon in her hand seemed to be more of a potential weapon than a means of feeding the ungrateful jerk across the room. "Do you have anything to go with them tonight or is this our main dish again?" He called in a louder than necessary, extremely annoying tone. She dumped more milk into the soup that used to resemble mashed potatoes, seething all the while. "Bowl of corn flakes?" She offered sarcastically. "Is that a vegetable?" She grabbed lettuce from the counter and crossed the room, slamming the entire head of lettuce on his plate. Cold water splashed him in the eye. He grimaced, wiping his face with a napkin. "Got any dressing?" He said as she returned to the kitchen as a strange odor filled the air. "What is that smell?" Mulder sniffed. Suddenly she remembered the meat loaf she had put in the oven. Was it four hours ago? She wondered if that might have been too long. It was obvious when she observed the smoke pouring from the burner on the top of the stove. "CRAP!" She yelled. "Dessert?" Mulder retorted. "Mulder, shut up and grab the fire extinguisher before the FBI gets a $500,000 expense report!" Sighing, Mulder put down his empty fork and apathetically rose from his place at the head of the table and strode to the closet, where he rummaged around for a few minutes. By this time, Scully had frantically extinguished the blaze with a pot of coffee. As she caught her breath, she noticed Mulder standing in the doorway, holding the fire extinguisher. He gave her a disapproving gaze. "Well, that was one way to handle it." "I panicked!" She answered loudly. "Where the bleep were you?" She asked in an accusing tone. "You asked me to get the fire extinguisher." He answered haughtily. As if a sign, her eyes fell to the murky depths of her now coffee flavored mashed potato soup mixture. Before she knew what she was doing, her hands fell to the handles. Something was taking over. There was a voice within that commanded her to launch dinner right at his sanctimonious expression. But the Scully that knew she would be on the floor until midnight cleaning up the mess urged her to reconsider her decision. She took several deep breaths and brought herself under control. "So what are we having for dinner?" The words smashed through the walls of her better judgment as if he had used a sledgehammer. There was no turning back. Her hands fell once more upon the handles of the saucepan and as it was as if time stood still. Forever etched on both their memories would be the freakish and somehow beautiful sight of the mocha colored mashed potato ensemble as it glided through the air toward Mulder's crisp and clean pale pink polo shirt. They both took a moment to realize the repercussions of her act, as Mulder stood, dripping with the brown dinner medley and Scully stood, trying to catch her breath and fathom what might happen next. She watched him in dreaded anticipation. He was unreadable. Then she remembered what he held in his hand. It was at that moment that she suddenly found herself completely covered in white effervescent foam. "I asked you a question, Woman." He stood at the doorway with his arms crossed at his chest, his hand gripping his recent weapon. All hell broke loose. Two hours later, Mulder and Scully found themselves amidst a frothy disaster almost too much to comprehend. They beheld the Klines once spotlessly clean residence. Scully's heart sank as she realized that Mulder would most likely consider this another one of her responsibilities as the "woman." Her fears were promptly confirmed with his next statement. "I'm gonna go watch the football game." He uncaringly tossed the mangled head of lettuce on the carpet beside her and crossed to the den. Sounds of cheering fans filled the house at an unreasonable volume. "Hey, Scully," he called from the depths of his manly domain. "Make me a sam-wich!" Later that night, as Scully entered the day's events into her personal journal, she advised her unseen reader that marriage might not be all that a little girl dreams of, and that playing house is better when done with dolls, rather than human males. The End.