From: rhonddal@ford.com (RhonddaL) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: LISTENING IN 4 (1/2) Date: 26 Feb 1996 18:52:13 -0500 Insert the disclaimer of your choice here. LISTENING IN 4 by Rhondda Lake and GirlGone The operator downed the last of his fifth of Jack Daniels. His head whirled with a display of colors and he reached for the headset, giggling, finding it elusively further from his reach than he thought. He compensated his position, laughing as the headphones danced from his fingertips and dropped onto the floor. He bent to pick them up. *Damn if this wasn't the funniest damn thing that had ever damn happened, damn.* Everything was very funny. *Ver' funny* he thought. *Especially those two upstairs. They were the funniest two damn people he had ever heard. Funnier than the damn Three Stooges. 'Cept there was only two of 'em. The woman had to be Moe and the guy was, what Curly? Or Shemp?* He snickered nastily to himself. He giggled like a schoolgirl, hiccuped and promptly passed out, his head striking the edge of the table in the back of the dark blue van. Darkness rushed up to meet him, shook his hand, and introduced itself. They were going to be buddies for awhile. Probably on a first name basis if the empty bottle with the ominous black label was any indication. His cel phone rang a dozen times. The van's operator snored, dreaming of buzzing insects and a deserted island filled with FBI agents doing the "nasty". The buzz of the flies became shrill, insistent. Continual. The phone rang on and on, unanswered. The stale smell of cigarettes filled the air, mixed with the scent of fermented corn, and sour sweat. The van's operator lay slumped on the floor, a nasty bruise forming on the side of his head like a ripe eggplant. He snored, bubbles of snot at the edges of his nose moving in time with his breath. TWO DAYS LATER He'd been through Hell. It was one ankle grabbing session after another after he'd been found passed out and drunk in the van two days ago. His superiors were not happy. They had even hinted that if there was ever a repeat performance he might not ever have to worry about the hang over. So here he was, dead sober and in a van once more. At least he'd been reassigned. No more having to deal with the Laural and Hardy of the FBI. He sat down to his shiny new consol and started up a spanking new tape. Shit, after all the disciplinary action it was probably worth it to have a nice, normal assignment. He slipped on the headphones with a look of almost - contentment on his face. * There was a knocking noise and the sound of a door opening. "Scully, what's wrong? You sounded upset over the phone." "Damn right I'm upset. Oh God Mulder... the test came back positive. It looks like we're expecting." "I take it you don't think of this as GOOD news? I thought you might actually look forward to the pitter patter of little feet." "What a TYPICAL male thing to say. Can't you see the PROBLEMS this is going to cause? I can't believe this is happening." * His eyes flew open in the van... Oh no... not again. Who the Hell had he pissed off in a former life? He sighed and shook his head. But wait... there was no freaking way he could have possibly misinterprated what was being said. Maybe this one would be good after all... * "Have you... have you talked to your doctor? I mean... have you considered... ending it?" A feminine sigh. "It isn't that easy to just throw aside a childhood of Catholic education Mulder. I just couldn't do that. Now I have to deal with it, I guess. The damage is done." "Well that's good. To be honest I'd be kinda upset if you would have done it." "That isn't the best part. It's far enough along that I had an ultrasound done. There will be three... count them, THREE more mouths to feed." "Scully, this looks like a radar still. I can't see anything." "Here, here and here are the heads. It's enough that Dr. Moranis is certain of three." "Oh yah, now I can see it. They sorta look like gerbils." "THEY ARE NOT GERBILS! Jesus Mulder, we have a situation here and you can only crack jokes?" "I bet they'll all have red hair like their mommy. Won't they?" There were strange kissy noises. "That's enough. Are you going to help me with this or not? I wasn't really prepared for this kind of thing..." "Sure, I'll help. What kind of creep do you take me for? I was the one who kept you too busy to pay attention to timing and everything. I had thought you would have taken some precautions to avoid this though." "Ha! It's always the womans job isn't it? Maybe if the GUY involved had been snipped then there wouldn't be a problem either." "Ouch. It hurts just THINKING about it." "Well I'd do it myself if I had the opportunity. I'm pretty handy with a scalpel." "That's not very funny Scully." "Well, what are we going to do? Mulder, what are you doing with that picture?" "You know if you turn it this way.... This one here looks a little like Winston Churchhill." "What? Is this another product of your overworked imagination? The next thing you're going to say is that you see something resembling a flukeworm. Or an alien spaceship." "No, no. Look. Here. Hey Scully..." The sound of paper shifting in the background. "I don't see it." "Maybe we could name it Winston." "What?" "That's a great name." "What if it's a girl?" "I don't think it would matter." "Oh YOU don't think it would matter. How did you feel when your parents named you Fox?" "That's different." "Well since we're going down that road Mulder, maybe we should call one of them Fox. How about this one here? You know, I do see a marked resemblence." "Stop that Scully. That isn't even funny." "Fox. Little Fox. Come and see mommy litttttttttle Foooooxxxxx. Does Foxy want a big kiss from mommy?" The woman's voice took on a wicked tone. The words came spilling out in a sing song chant. Then those strange kissy noises again, and what the HELL was that? It sounded like panting and licking. Oh hell, where was that Jack Daniels when he needed it? He just knew that he'd be doing a horizontal dance with that black label when his shift ended. The chanting stopped, interrupted by female giggles. "Stop that, that tickles." "Isn't getting your toes licked supposed to tickle? Maybe you should have worn slippers. Anyway you are NOT naming any of them Fox. How about naming one of them Walter? Talk about either the ultimate suck up or the world's worst career move." "Well they ARE born without hair..." "Don't go there Scully. Not too bright an idea anyway. So what do we have to go out and purchase for our little pending arrivals?" "Blankets, a place for them to sleep, maybe some toys. What are we going to do when we have a field assignment? I can't just expect my mom to be willing to watch them." "Hey, you said she always wanted grandkids from you. Just hand them over with a smile." "That's cold Mulder." "They have places you can put them. After all you won't be the only working mommy in the world." A smacking sound and a muffled "Ouch." "Ok, ok, we could always leave them with the guys. They're really soft touches for little, cute, helpless things." "Yah, especially Frohike. He'd have them corrupted in no time." "I doubt he'd be able to corrupt these babies. Hey Scully, maybe they'll even want to adopt them if we let them watch over them for a while." "Already looking for a way to escape huh Mulder? Hand 'em off to someone else. I'll expect you to take at least one." "WHAT? Come on Scully, it isn't really my kind of thing. I'd forget to feed it, and they smell. It's requires entirely too much care for a guy who manages to regularly kill off fish. I'm more the 'stop by and play with them for a little while' kind." "You know what they call that Mulder? An absentee father." "Well the mom isn't gonna sue me. Are you?" More sickening kissy noises. "Oh for crying out loud, don't you know you are not supposed to jostle an expectant mother. Put her down." "She likes it, don't you?" "Give her to me. Jesus Mulder, isn't it bad enough you convinced me to name her Clyde? Now you are going to be around to torment even her puppies. Come on with momma, baby. Did that mean man make you smell his nasty breath? It'll be ok. Mommy will take care of everything.And after you have this litter, momma's getting you fixed... yes she is." * *Damn, damn, damn*. They had to KNOW he was listening. That had to be it. It was his own version of hell. Worse than anything Jean-Paul Sartre could have thought up. He hand rose to slap his forehead in frustration, landing on the eggplant bruise still present there. He felt a blinding flash of pain and proceeded to black out. On his way down to kiss the floor with his face he heard his cel phone start to ring. *Oh crap* he thought. *Now, what am I gonna do?* Then nothing but soothing blackness. ************************************************************ Remember we like e-mail! Rhoni Lake can be reached at (RhonddaL@ford.com) or at (Rhoni@microserve.com) GirlGone can be reached at girlgone@geocities.com Come on, tell us how sick you think we are...