Title: Food Fer Thought! (a mercifully short story) 1/1 Author: CWD Headquarters Date: Tue, 2 Sep 1997 16:58:13 GMT~ Important NOTE: This is a REPOST sorta. Ages ago this was posted to no real end as it appears that it was not properly done and as a consequence appeared in little, messed-up bits and didn't appear on the Gossamer archives. If you have already read this story (unlikely), I apologize, honestly. Maybe you should read it again -- it's been cleaned-up and all the spelling has been checked. Go for it. Disclaimer: I own nothing here, it all belongs to someone else and that person is not me -- I am in possession of NOTHING! (who would *want* to claim responsibility for this?) By Claire Kerr "FOOD FER THOUGHT!" A mercifully short story "During these last decades the interest in professional fasting has markedly diminished" -- Franz Kafka ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Nothing like lower intestine, Scully," said Mulder as he licked the last bits away and reached for a wrist. Sitting beside him on the steps of the Lincoln Monument, Scully gently moved a body to one side as she leaned forward to address her partner, "Listen. I can sense that something is bothering you. You know that you can talk to me about anthing..." Mulder gnawed contemplatively on some detached fingers, "I'm fine," he said evenly. Scully frowned. "No really, I'm okay," Mulder picked up a bloody thigh that lay at his feet, "The fatty parts are best." He offered it to his partner. Scully shook her head; she wondered how to express the worries she'd had for some time, "Mulder," she began carefully, "I know the stress of almost drowning in contaminated Pine Sol last week could..." "*Alien DNA* contaminated, " interrupted Mulder. Scully sighed, "You should really take some time off." She wiped what appeared to be brain or softened spine off the heel of her suede shoe. Mulder tossed the well-chewed thigh aside and began to pick apart a lung -- still warm in the body of its recently deceased owner. Mouth full and dripping, he turned to his partner, "Scully, my behaviour on my own time is none of your business," he could see that he had hurt her feelings; she turned her head away and pretended to be examining one of the corpses sprawled face-down on the steps. "I'm fine Scully, really." He reached out to take her hand in a reconcillatory gesture, but cancelled the motion realizing he would likely drip blood on her crisp, linen cuff. Scully closed her eyes wearily and leaned back on the steps. Surrounding her were the bodies of at least five people and their once-attached limbs. She listened to the sounds of Mulder chewing and could contain herself no longer, "But Mulder..the police!" "Awww, Scully," he said, "This liver is the exact colour of Samantha's hair." Mulder turned teary eyes towards his partner, "I miss her. Lots." Scully was touched. "That's so sweet, Mulder." She regained her composure and remembered what she had followed Mulder down-town for, "I've called a doctor at the bureau. I want to get you some help." Scully fiddled with the hem of her skirt, "I just want to help you conquer this..obsession." Mulder hung his head, "I'll work this out on my own," he passed Scully an ear-lobe and urged her to chow down. Scully was adamant in her refusal, "I can't!" Her partner fixed an interrogative glance on his friend, "Why, Scully? What makes you unable? Is it something to do with your father? Your dead sister?" "It's the cannibalism taboo, Mulder. I can't help it." "Hmmm, common excuse," said the agent as he bit into a soggy esophagus, "It's alright. I understand." Relived, Scully smoothed her skirt and thought about a nice chef salad. As she stood to stretch her legs, she turned in time to see three men in official-looking black suits rounding the monument and heading towards them. Mulder was oblivious to this; he amused himself by spelling dirty words with severed toes. "Agent Fox Mulder?" Asked the first man, a solidly-built authoritative-type. In the midst of finding another toe to complete an "F", Mulder looked up. Scully bit her lip in shame; she knew these men. "Agent Mulder, will you come with us please." the first man continued. He flashed an FBI Internal Investigation badge. "Geez," said Mulder, he calmly sucked the marrow from a knuckle bone. The Man In Black kicked aside an arm and strode down the steps to Mulder's side. "You are wanted in connection with some stalker mail that an exotic dancer by the name of 'Miss Melanie Peaks' has been getting." Mulder rolled his eyes, "Oh, come on!" He looked to Scully for support but saw she was staring at the ground. "You knew," he told her, throwing away the knuckle bone, "Well...I'm feeling pretty betrayed here, Scully." "It's for your own good, Mulder," Scully whispered, "You don't know what you're doing." Mulder turned to the Men In Black, "It was Fan Mail! I'm her biggest fan!" The Spokesman In Black snorted, "Right, a 'I'm coming to your house to kill you' fan." "That was a joke. Melanie knows that." Impatient, the Internal Investigator grabbed Mulder's arm, "Look Spoo...buddy, you stalk, you..." he fumbled lamely, "lose." Scully spoke up, "We're just going to help you Mulder, you need therapy. You need to see women in a more respectful light." Mulder snorted in the direction of his partner, "Oh really Scully! Have I ever put the moves on you? I hardly even undress you with my eyes!" Scully had to admit this was true. She blushed most becomingly with the shame of her betrayal. The men began to escort Mulder down the stairs. Looking at the bodies on the steps, Mulder dug his heels in and protested weakly, "I'm not done eating!" "There's sandwiches and coffee and day-old babies at the bureau," said the Investigator. Mulder stared suspiciously at the MIB who nimbly stepped over a corpse already beginning to smell foully, and ushered his charge towards a stately black car across the street. The other two black-clad heavies followed. "Say, do you have any strange marks on your body?" asked Mulder as he was thrown into the back seat. Scully watched them go -- torn between loyalty to her partner and disgust at his misogynist behaviour. She wondered if 'Miss Melanie Peaks' would press charges. A street cleaner came by and began to sweep the human remains off the steps and into his garbage can. He worried that some stupid tourist would slip on the blood and then sue the city. Working quickly in order that he not disturb the young red-head who seemed deep in thought, he moved on to pick up McDonald's cups and straws from around Lincoln's petrified loafers. Scully saw the last of the bodies disappear into the street sweeper's smelly canister. While surveying the activities of the city worker with the "Keep Washington Clean" button, her stomach rumbled, and with mild discomfort she realized that just maybe she'd like a piece of his mind. the end. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Claire "What's another word for 'Mulder'?" Kerr Feel free to comment on this, who doesn't like criticism?