From: cofax Date: Tue, 29 Feb 2000 13:50:16 -0800 (PST) Subject: xfc: NEW: Pyramid Scheme by cofax H Source: xfc Title: Pyramid Scheme, or, No Anchovies Please Author: cofax Email: cofax7@yahoo.com Rating: G Category: metafic/stalk/humor/dream sequence Disclaimer: CC would never do anything nearly this silly to them... Notes: Em & Punk - be careful what you wish for . *** Pyramid Scheme, or, No Anchovies Please by cofax February 2000 Later, she blamed the anchovies. And therefore Mulder, who had ordered them. But it was *her* subconscious at work. What it was trying to tell her was anyone's guess. She was sitting on a bench on the edge of a football field. Behind her were the bleachers, separated from the bench by a poorly-maintained running track. In front of her was the field, more mud than grass, with puddles of standing water in the center. There was, of course, a game going on. But there were more people on the field than in the stands on either side. The players were not wearing football helmets, but only jerseys of either black or a familiar shade of bright green. Scully peered a little closer, and she realized that she knew most of the players. There was her partner, looking good in black. The Gunmen were there too, although Byers was covered with mud and you could no longer see the color of Langly's hair. Was that Agent Pendrell? Decomposition fit him well. A.D. Skinner wore a black jersey as well. The other team consisted of the usual suspects: CGB Spender and his rather tattered-looking son, Alex Krycek, an assortment of miscellaneous thugs and assassins. They weren't playing football, Scully realized. Or wait, no, they weren't playing *with* a football. It looked like... a laptop? Just as she thought this, the computer sailed through the air from Spender Jr. to Krycek. Krycek fumbled, though, and the laptop hit the ground. Mulder sprang forward and threw his body onto the laptop. As he climbed, mud-covered, to his feet, Skinner suddenly yelled "Switch!" Krycek and Skinner raced to the center of the field and traded jerseys. Scully blinked as play resumed. She looked down at herself and saw she was, unsurprisingly, wearing black. A noise behind her caught her attention, and she swiveled on the bench to face the bleachers. There were a few people in the bleachers. She saw her mother, her brothers, her junior high science teacher. Between her and the bleachers were the cheerleaders. The cheerleaders were a dozen tiny grey aliens. Gibson was in front, stitches still visible. They all were wearing green t-shirts in a particularly hideous lime shade, with a "G" in 168-pt Times New Roman font on the front of the shirt. The shirts were too big, and hung to their knees. Gibson was wearing shorts; the aliens aren't. Each of them carried in his (its?) left hand a lime-green pompom. In the right, a black one. As Scully gazed upon the scene, Gibson, in a voice oddly deep for his size, chanted, "and three - two - one ..." They all joined in together, performing jumping jacks and shaking the pompoms in a semblance of rhythm. Gibson tried to keep them together but let's face it, aliens don't dance well. "Gimme a P! Gimme an U! Gimme an N! Gimme an K!" They pause for a break. This is hard work for the little guys. "Gimme an M! Gimme an A! Gimme an N! Gimme an E! Gimme an U! Gimme a V! Gimme an E! Gimme an R! Gimme an A! Gimme a B! Gimme an L! Gimme a T! Gimme a Y!" Aliens can't spell too well, either. Gibson stopped and made them do that part over. "Gimme a B! Gimme an I! Gimme an L! Gimme an I! Gimme a T! Gimme a Y!" The big finish. Three aliens crouched down on the ground, two others stood on their shoulders, and the half-dozen left on the ground lifted Gibson up so he could clamber to the top of the pyramid. It swayed, alarmingly. Scully stepped backwards. "What does it spell? PUNK MANEUVERABILITY!! Who do we love? PUNK MANEUVERABILITY!!! Who must write more stories? PUNK MANEU ---- oh, shi--" In the excitement, one of the aliens at the bottom hiccuped during the last verse. This threw off the balance of the two on the next level. Gibson slipped, recovered, staggered, and sprawled forward, to be caught (a la mosh pit) by the sundry aliens around the pyramid. Scully started to step forward to check on Gibson, but someone grabbed her from behind. "Come on, Scully, you're in!" She found Mulder hustling her to the center of the field and pressing the laptop into her hands. There were huge cheers from the bleachers, and Scully looked up at the stands. Her mother and Teena Mulder were unrolling a large banner. In (again) black type on a green background, it read: "Jill, Kari, Sabine, Morgan, Meredith, Blue, Vixen, Syntax: You're NEXT." Scully shrugged. She opened the computer and began to type. As the first words scrolled across the page, there was a horrific, grating noise. Her alarm. Daylight poured through the windows of her bedroom. Scully blinked a few times. Anchovies, indeed. *** end ===== -- happily vacationing in the land of not coping -- cofax7@yahoo.com http://cofax.freeservers.com WWSD, OBSSE