MiSTed: Let There Be Angst! (3/4)

[pmi...@asid.org]

MiSTed: Let There Be Angst! (3/4)
By Peter Milan

...And this one's gonna hurt, too.

[SOL. The guys stare straight ahead, ashen-faced. Dead silence
for a long moment.]
CROW: So.
TOM: Well.
MIKE: That was...uh...
[Everyone begins shouting with incoherent rage at once. This
lasts for a good minute, then--]

[Deep 13. Dr. F looks on placidly. We can dimly hear the outraged
shrieks of the guys in the background.]

Dr. F: Something wrong, Mikey-pants?

[SOL. Everyone is screaming their retorts.
MIKE: --YOU MADE US WATCH THIS PIECE OF--
TOM: --HAD TO SEE SCULLY SHOOT HER--
CROW: --YOU SICK FREAK!!

[Deep 13. Dr. F cleans his glasses casually.]

Dr. F: So...what I hear you saying is that watching Scully plant a
bullet in her own brain was a little too much for you?

[SOL.]

ALL: YES!!

[Deep 13. Dr. F grins.]

Dr. F: Well, then I guess I shouldn't send you this other Scully-
snuffs-self fanfic, then, should I?

[SOL. Complete shock.]

TOM: ...other....suicide fanfic?

[Deep 13. Frank walks in.]

Dr. F: Yep. It's called "Shots Rang Out". You have fun, you crazy
kids. You might want to bring a tarp! HAHAHAHAHAHA!
FRANK: Wow, Steve, you're so damn EVIL!
Dr. F: You betchum, Frank.

[SOL. More rage.]

MIKE: Hey, why stop NOW?! We haven't seen the Lone Gunmen gassing
themselves in a secluded garage yet!
TOM: Mike...
MIKE: Aren't we going to watch Mulder's mom tie a weight around
her neck and sink to the bottom of Cape Cod Bay?!
TOM: Mike.
MIKE: I know! Let's watch Scully's brother as he bashes his own
head in with a friggin' BALLPEEN HAMMER!
CROW: I wouldn't mind seeing that...

[Movie light.]
ALL: AHHHHHH! WE GOT MOVIE SIGN!

[7...6...5...4...3...2...1...]

TOM: I thought suicide was supposed to be _painless_.
MIKE: Not to us.

>Date sent: Sun, 01 Feb 1998 19:56:39 -0500
>From: Claudia Chapman
>Subject: Shots Rang Out

CROW: From www.grassy-knoll.com.

>Hi. I hope Im doing this OK.

TOM: Well, _that_ inspires confidence.
MIKE: Shush.

> I wrote this story a while ago and I was
> hoping you could archive it for me. I believe this should be archived
> under "Angs" THanks.

CROW: Oh, I think I'll be filing it under "Twisted X-Phile Fantasies",
thank you very much.
>
> File size: 25K
> Rating:PG
> Category:XA
> Spoilers:None
> Keywords: None
> Summary: A devastating suicide note is found a long with the body...
> Written by the person you would least expect.

CROW: Gee, wonder if it's the calm and collected Scully and not the
emotional and troubled Mulder.

> THanks again,
> Blue Moon

MIKE: Any chance David and Maddie will show up in this?
TOM: What for?
MIKE: To tell Mulder and Scully what _not_ to do.
TOM: You mean overact and pursue movie careers?
MIKE: You know darn well what I mean.

> PS PLEASE Donot add my email address!!!

TOM: I'll be keeping that for my own purposes. Get ready for all the
Oscar lemon fanfics you can stand!

>************************************************************************
>
> "Shots Rang Out"
> written by Blue Moon
>
> Disclamer: Characters Mulder and Scully (unfortunately) donot belong to
> me.

MIKE: Let us bow our heads in fervent thanks.

> They belong to Chris Carter/1013/FOX. I just wanted to borrow them
> cause their great characters. Of course you all know this. Please dont
> sue me. I mean no harm, and Im not getting any money out of this so...

TOM: "No, all I get out of it is the knowledge that I've let the world
know what kind of horror boils away under my skull."
MIKE: Tom, this is _fanfic_. Mulder and Scully aren't really dead.

> ON WITH THE SHOW!

CROW: Let's watch everyone commit hara-kiri!
MIKE: Boy, what must the Millennium fanfics be like?

> Detective Jane Wiler walked into the room shaking her head. She looked
> under the sheet that covered the body on the floor. "Shame."

TOM: Unfortunately, the victim was dead and, as thus, beyond shame.
MIKE: Not to the Catholics!

> The victim
> was young. Suicide was one of the hardest things for her to look into.
> Millions of young people killing themselves for the worst reasons.

CROW: You mean despair and hopelessness shouldn't count for them?
Those darn fool kids!

> A tall balding man walked through the apartment door. He saw the sheet
> on the floor, and took a quick look beneath it.

MIKE: WOW! Look at that! I can see right through her brain!
TOM: That's not funny, Mike!
MIKE: Oh, relax...

> He portrayed no emotion
> whatsoever.

CROW: Oh, it's Skinner.

> He noticed her, and stood up. "Det. Wiler?" The tall balding
> man with glasses walked over to her. "Assistant Director Skinner of the
> FBI."

CROW: WOOOOO!
MIKE: Way to call it, buddy!

> Wiler raised her eyebrows at the mentioning of "FBI." "FBI? Why are you
> here? This is just a suicide."

TOM: It's just the corpse of a vibrant, beautiful young woman driven
by grief into blowing her FRIGGIN' HEAD OFF! WHY SHOULD YOU
BE CONCERNED?!

> AD Skinner looked uncomfortable.

MIKE: He probably needs to adjust.
TOM: Adjust what? His code of ethics? His sense of self?
MIKE: You wouldn't understand.

> She guessed it was more than that. She
> had learned to read even the hardest of people. She could see pain,
> disgust, sorrow, even a little anger.

CROW: And some scrambled eggs on his tie.

> She figured they must have known
> each other. Lovers perhaps? No, he was much to old.

MIKE: Hey, just because there's snow on the mountain...oh, wait,
there's _nothing_ on the mountain. Never mind.

> Partners? He cut her
> off before she could decide, "She worked with us. Was there a note?"

TOM: Yes. A B flat.
CROW: Like her head!
TOM: SHUT UP, CROW!

> She looked at him once again, "Yes there was." She handed him the
> letter. It had been written by hand.

MIKE: She was going to have it engraved, but that would look mighty
suspicious...

> From the looks of it, the woman had
> been upset while wrote it.

TOM: Well, gee, what was your first clue, Poirot? The deep indentations
in the writing, indicating tension by the author? Perhaps some
spattered ink in the margins? Or maybe the fact that it was a
SUICIDE NOTE!!
MIKE: Deep breaths, Tom.
TOM: YOU...YOU DUMB BALD BALDING DUMMY!

> Small tear spots could be seen in spots,
> making the ink run. He began to read it.

MIKE: [Scully] "Dear Penthouse, I'm a student at a small East Coast law
enforcement academy. One night, me and my roommate, Clarice Starling--"
TOM: THAT'S IT! I'M LEAVING!
[Tom tries to leave the theater and crashes on the grate outside. Loudly.]

> "Its amazing how humans can measure time. At times we measure it in
> days, weeks, months, and even years. But other times we can barely
> measure it at all because it lasts for only a fraction of a second. And
> when we realize that moment is lost, we wish we could have changed it.

CROW: Isn't this the plot to "Somewhere In Time?"
MIKE: Actually, I think it's "Back To The Future." You okay, Tom?
TOM: [OS] I'm FINE! [sniffles] Could somebody pick me up?

>This is why every time a warm summers night passes, or I smell the sweet
>aroma of roses or fresh chocolate chip cookies I think of him -

MIKE: Luciano Pavarotti?
[MIKE gets up and grabs TOM.]

>my partner, my friend, my lover;

CROW: Marita Covarrubias.
MIKE: Watch it.
CROW: Oh, like your little Starling ref was any better. Isn't that the
second time you've done that one?

> Mulder.

CROW: Him too.

>I remember the case well, for how could I forget when it has been
>branded into my mind?

TOM: You don't need to tell us, Dana. Does "Time Speeder" mean anything
to you?

> My skull. Every neuron.

CROW: Don't they mean N**r*n?
MIKE: I thought it was N*****.
TOM: Ssshhhhh! He sees and knows all!

>They -- the police -- had found a couple who had died in their homes.
>One, shot point blank through the head, the other had been nearly
>decapitated.

MIKE: Wow! They really did commit hara-kiri!

>It was around 9:30 when we stepped onto the front porch of Ms Carol
>Swanson's house. The smell from the porch were unimaginable.

MIKE: Saaaaay, is that a Hungry Man meal I smell?

>The sweet smell of roses and damp earth mingled with the smell of warm
>chocolate chip cookies that were fresh from the oven.

CROW: Wow. I don't even like walnuts in mine.

> These smells, to
>most, are reminders of childhood summers, but not I. No, now, every time
>a smell these I remember him.

TOM: [Scully] My dear, sweet Paul Prudhomme.

>Ms Swanson came to the door, the second I saw her I remember how a
>imagined her to be the perfect grandmother.

MIKE: I SING THE BODY ELECTRIC!

> She was an older woman with
>dark graying hair tied back in a loose twist. Her eyes were the most
>crystalline blue I could have imagined.

TOM: Crystalline blue is a clear sky...crystalline blue...crystalline
blue is a clear sky...

> She wore a loose pair of tan
>slacks, and a light green blouse. Over that she wore a floral printed
>apron. The apron was splattered with fresh cookie batter.

CROW: Red, viscous cookie batter.

>She smiled warmly, and invited us into her *Martha Steward* type home.
>The house was coldly perfect, alien.

TOM: This fanfic's a bug hunt!

> Delicate stenciled ivy patterns
>lined the cream walls. In the living room hung long burgundy velvet
>curtains, and Victorian style furniture. The kitchen was lacking a
>single speck of flour, a single dirty dish. The kitchen was decorated
>with dark woods and marble counter tops. Everything was styled
>perfectly.

CROW: Except for that dead dog hanging in the foyer.
TOM: That's a conversation piece.
CROW: Ohhhhh...

>Ms Swanson sat us down giving us each a tall glass of ice cold lemonade
>and one of the trays of cookies that covered the counter, slowly
>cooling. They were delicious. The chocolate was still gooey and warm.

MIKE: There's just too many "gooey and warm" jokes to be made,
aren't there?
TOM: Yeah, but let's not go there.

>She left the room, claiming to have, "forgotten something."

TOM: Also, she wanted to "slip into something more comfortable."

>It was so ironic.

CROW: Don'tcha think?
MIKE: OH NO YOU DON'T!
[Mike rips off Crow's arm and hucks it at the screen.]
CROW: Geez, Mike!
MIKE: Sorry. There's just some things you have to nip in the bud.

> That time - when she left the room - Mulder had said
>how she reminded him of a grandmother.

CROW: Then he discussed his infantilism fetish.
MIKE: _Please_ shush.

> We had quietly discussed the fact
>that there was no way on Earth this kindly woman could have done such a
>terrible thing. We should have known better. *I* should have known
>better.

MIKE: Yeah, you _should_ have known better! What the hell's your _problem_,
Scully? YOU'RE WORTHLESS! WORTHLESS!

>This next part pains me the most, for it is etched into every part of my
>being - my soul. I remember being in the kitchen, discussing the case
>with Mulder, when Ms Swanson came back. She came back with a 9mm and a
>devilish grin on her face.

CROW: Time to play the William Burroughs home game!

> A face no human can bring onto themselves.

TOM: Except Jim Carrey.

>Her eyes were still that same crystalline blue, but colder. I remember
>the sparks from those tow rounds she fired, and a warm liquid on my
>face.

CROW: You know, there's a "Silence of the Lambs" joke that I'm choking
on right now...

> It was blood. And it wasn't my own.

MIKE: And it tasted like raisins. I have no idea why.

>I shot five answering shots, without even realizing what I had done.

TOM: Oh, it was her other personality, Norbert.

>They all filled her chest like stuffing in a turkey.

TOM: Bullets instead of potatoes? Honey, I LOVE you!

> I remember her
>falling to floor in a roll of flowery cloth. Blood soaked into her white
>carpets and her clothes until her eyes finally clouded over and she left
>our world and went straight into the very deepest bowels of Hell.

MIKE: Well, actually, Catholic dogma states that if she truly was
insane, she--
TOM: Stifle!

>I was numb -- cold -- frozen -- as I fell to my knees next to my
>partner.

CROW: Uh...Scully, that's not what "mouth to mouth" means...
TOM: Oh, _gross_! Thanks for that image!

> The weight of cold metal in my hands slipped out. He was almost
>gone. The bullet had burrowed its small metallic body deep into his
>chest,

TOM: And was napping next to his left ventricle.

> and blood seeped out at a sickening speed. But he was still
>conscious. barely.

MIKE: So he's barely conscious. Typical day for him.

>His breathing was shallow, but he would be leaving us fast to join his
>father, Deep Throat,

[ALL do a spit take.]
CROW: _This_ is new!
TOM: My GOD! This explains it all! It exlains the clones and the...
and...wait a second, that doesn't explain anything. It doesn't
even make any sense!

> and possibly his sister. He was slipping fast,
>slipping like sand slips through my fingers.

CROW: Like sands through the hourglass...

>I am not aware of much after he died. I was barely conscious myself. I
>was still awake, but to frozen to remember anything. The only things I
>remember are holding his head in my lap

TOM: Shut up, Crow.
CROW: ...wow. I didn't even have time to open my beak.

> as the police and ambulances
>finally arrived. I remember his soft hands on my face, a reassuring
>touch.

MIKE: [Elephant Man] You have a kind face...

> I heard them shout as I stared into those big blue puppy dog
>eyes for the last time.

CROW: And then he buried his face in my crotch.
MIKE & TOM: CROW!!
CROW: Like a dog! Like a dog!

> *See you when you get there.* I wondered what it
>was he took from me, he took my heart and soul.

MIKE: Heart and soul...that's what you took from me, heart and soul...
and all my dignity...
TOM: [quiet sobbing] Mulderrrrr...

> After that its all a blur. Strong hands pulling me away, and bright
>lights and reassuring voices. But thats all they were.

CROW: Wasn't that a Jay McInerney novel?

>When you find this letter it will be too late to save me. I will have
>joined *him* my father and my sister.

CROW: Mulder's her father and her sister?!

> I cant live on with the guilt of
>what has happened. Its too much.

TOM: I can't live on without apostrophes!

> Every little thing from that night is
>playing constantly through my head.

MIKE: Every little thing she does is tragic!

> I see that night, see his face
>everywhere I look. I enter our office, and feel as if he has ripped my
>heart from my chest, and put it back in my hands.

CROW: And that's why _I_ wear Isotoner gloves!

>So I must say goodbye. Goodbye.

ALL: Bye!!
TOM: Have fun frying in hell!

> Dana Scully"
>
> Skinner gave the letter back, nodded his thanks, and walked out the
>apartment door. The image of that poor agent danced around in his head.

MIKE: The truly horrible thing is, she was riverdancing.

>Poor Scully.

CROW: Poor Wiggum.

> Her face had been pale and bloodied. The small hole in the
>side of her head where the bullet had entered left a dark stain on the
>floor.

TOM: Oh, maaaaan...[sobs again]
CROW: Oh my God! They killed Scully! YOU BASTARDS!
MIKE: You okay, Crow?
CROW: The other arm, Mike! Get 'em!
[Mike rips off Crow's other arm and hucks it at the screen, pegging
Skinner in the head.]
TOM: Nice shot.

>It was a shame really. The loss of such a great agent.

MIKE: Yeah, but then Jerry Maguire got married and--
TOM: SHUT UP, MIKE!!

>************************************************************************
>I hope you liked it.

TOM: YOU HOPE IN VAIN, HEARTLESS WENCH!

> Blue Moon

MIKE: [sings] Blue Moon...you saw me sitting around...without a gun in
my hand....without my corpse on the ground...
CROW: Time to go yet?
TOM: Uh...don't think so.

[Still a little more coming in part four.]

Peter Milan
ti...@eyrie.org

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