From: "LaPrincipessa" Date: Wed, 25 Oct 2000 21:27:52 -0500 Subject: Ears Source: direct Ears by La Principessa PG-13 Keywords: MSR, humor Spoilers: None I can think of. Disclaimer: Hah. Hah-hah-hah. I do not own these characters. Neither do I own the song "Listen," which is by Collective Sou Summary: Mulder's innuendo skills are in rare form... "Why can't you listen? Why can't you hear? Why can't you listen? As love screams everywhere..." I mumble. I'll deny it until I'm blue in the face, but I know this. It's all part of my sheepish schoolboy don't-kick-me-in-the-face charm. Scully hates it. So much can be mumbled, though, that can't really be said. Mumbling, you see, is the coward's middle ground. It is the step between keeping your mouth shut and expressing your thoughts for everyone to hear. You mumble in the secret hope that someone will hear you, but on the chance that someone actually does, you reply, "Uhh...you heard that?" and blush, if possible. I've decided that Scully has the ears of a bat. Skinner too. I'm not worried about him, though. If Skinner intended to get me fired or reassigned, he would have done it long ago, and he would have had plenty of evidence more substantial than some inappropriate mumbled remark. Scully's a different story. Dana Scully, in fact, is an altogether different type of creature. I know Scully pretty goddamn well. The more I know her, though, the less I know her. What's going to set her off? What will she say? How often can I get that "for Christ's sake, Mulder!" look that she does so perfectly? It's a game of sorts. Hey, entertainment's hard to come by, thanks to my old buddy Jedgar. Scully emphasizing the difficulty of being a female fed: "Don't you ever wonder why I wear these damn skirts, Mulder?" "I'm more interested in what you wear under those skirts," I mumble. Skully critiquing my choice in pastimes: "Geez, Mulder, don't you ever get tired of sitting around and watching those videos that 'aren't' yours?" "You mean, hadn't I rather be in the videos? Sure, Scully, but you have no interest in acting." Scully scolding me about my diet: "Honestly, Mulder, all of this Chinese and pizza - I'd hate to be your heart. You really ought to exercise more." "Sure, Scully, how 'bout you and me burn some calories?" She hears me. I know she does. I'd bet all of my best conspiracy theories on it. But she never responds. Never am I rewarded with so much as a flicker of those blue eyes. I think of that old Saturday Night Live skit with the "subliminal messages." I could have some fun with Scully, yank her chain. I walk around the Hoover Building, actually grinning, becoming more and more attached to this idea. I could say anything I wanted, no matter how outrageous, and she couldn't do a damn thing about it. If she did, she'd be as good as admitting that she'd heard all those other little innuendos in the last seven years and oh-so-studiously ignored them. Insert evil chuckle here. I start off simply. "Frohike...Frohike...Frohike." Every time I say something, I end with a muttered, "Dana Frohike." She ignores me, of course, although I am gratified to notice her shooting me some strange looks when she thinks I'm not watching. I progress, fiendishly, to, "Don't wear panties." "Mulder, pass me the stapler." "Sure, Scully. Don't wear panties." "I'm going to the deli. Do you want anything?" "Tuna on rye with a pickle. Don't wear panties." As she walks out the door, she's blushing. Even for me, the next one is low. "You don't actually believe that this man died from ingesting extraterrestrial ectoplasm," she states confidently. "That was my original theory. Why don't you go give Skinner a blow-job?" Uh-huh. She almost chokes on her Aquafina. I'm running out of creative jibes. While she is out of the office - meeting with Skinner, no less - I turn on the radio and hear a song that gives me an idea. "OK, Mulder, that's it for me today. I've had more than enough." Oh-ho, could that be a not-so-subtle reference to my little game? "All right, Scully. Don't forget our flight leaves at 8 a.m. sharp. 'You and me, baby, ain't nothin' but mammals, so let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel.'" "I won't forget. I'm going home now." She is shrugging into her blazer. "Have a nice evening." I'm feeling sorely disappointed. I had expected more from Scully. As she is leaving, she pokes her head around the door and looks back at me. "Oh, and Mulder?" she says sweetly. Two beats. "Go fuck yourself." She leaves in a hurry, but I swear I saw the shadow of a smile. Me, I'm grinning like the Cheshire cat. I have no shame. "Why can't you listen? Why can't you hear? Why can't you listen? As love screams everywhere..." THE END Nourish my feeble corporeal being at kenntr03@wfu.edu.