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Rated: PG
Category: M/S RST
Feedback: Graciously accepted at
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Archive: Gossamer. Anyone else please ask.
OFFICE OF THE X-FILES
J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING
WASHINGTIN, D.C.
It was the usual routine. Scully would arrive at
the office at the required time, and Mulder would
already be there. Every day, or almost every day,
the same greetings were exchanged, then the caseload
or lack of such was discussed. Scully decided to
change that one morning with a little dry humour.
"Morning, Scully," Mulder said without looking up
from a file.
"Morning, Mulder. You're fly is open and I'm wearing
no bra." Would he actually hear that, she wondered.
"Yeah." He sat up straight when the words sunk in.
"That wasn't funny. It was good, but not funny."
"Mulder, sometimes I think you live at this office.
And I'm glad you didn't look, anyway... "
"At my fly or your chest?" he smirked.
"Well?"
"Both. So what's so interesting it took you so long
to understand what I said?"
"New report out of Boston. Some airline attendant
claims passengers felt as though they were being pushed
out of the way when they stood or took a seat that no
one had reserved. No one was seen doing any pushing.
The FAA was sweet enough to give us this file because
they have no idea how to investigate it. Someone
apparently heard of our quaint little department and
our talent of investigating the paranormal."
"Ah, yes. To be so revered, yet misunderstood. I think
perhaps a few passengers had a few too many drinks.
Perhaps even the FAA person who sent this little piece
of nonsense to you was corked, as well."
"Well, it was an Aer Lingus plane. But, I don't really
believe the Irish are any more prone to excess drinking
than any other people. So, pack your bag. We are going to
Boston. I know how fond you are of flying, so I arranged
for a rental car. Had you there, didn't I? No, I guess
not."
"Despite the fact that I like to avoid flying, I also
like my paycheck, Mulder. So, I suggest we get to it."
"Don't forget your bra this time." Scully blushed as
they left the office together.
"Only in your dreams."
***
LOGAN AIRPORT
BOSTON, MASSECHUSETTES
The agents has no problem finding the Aer Lingus service
counter. Who could miss the classic symbol of the shamrock,
anyway?
"May I help you?" A brunette attendant with long straight
hair said brightly.
"Yes. I'm Special Agent Dana Scully and this is my partner,
Special Agent Fox Mulder. We understand there was an
unusual occurrance on a flight here from Dublin on
Tuesday."
"You'd be wanting to speak with Liz Lamont and Sharon
Farrell. They were on board that particular flight. I can
ring them at their hotel rooms if you wish."
"Maybe we should speak to them there," Mulder suggested.
"Right you are." The attendant scribbled the hotel name on
a piece of paper and Scully took it. "Imagine, that many
people thinking something magic was going on in this day
and age? Probably some prankster's shennanigans."
"Imagine." Scully echoed. "Have a good day. You were very
helpful."
"Take care now."
"Thank you." As they returned to the car, Scully mumbled,
"We may as well go see Lord of the Dance, too, while
we're here."
"Pardon? I didn't hear you over the planes!" Mulder
shouted.
"I said we should speak to them while we have the
chance! They might be due for a flight back soon!"
***
As Mulder and Scully listened to the airline
attendants' stories in the sitting area of their room,
they heard a rather unbelievable tale. Granted, they
had had some rather strange encounters with odd
beings before, such as Jen, Tooms, Donnie Pfaster,
even aliens. They had never thought they would be
investigating the stuff of which fairytales are made.
"So, what you mean, essentially, is a mischievous
spirit?" Mulder asked Liz Lamont, a tall redhead with
naturally curly hair.
"That would be it. I'd almost call it a 'pooka'."
"A 'pooka'", he repeated.
"A mischievous spirit," Sharon Farrell said. "And it's
an ancient legend in the old country. Sort of like a very
naughty leprechaun only not a leprechaun."
"A naughty leprechaun," Scully said in disbelief. "Well,
I think I've heard enough. Let's go, Mulder."
"Scully?"
She took him aside and whispered by the door, "Obviously
there are two explanations as to what happened on the plane,
Mulder: Either there was a prankster on board the plane,
or someone, maybe many people, had too much of the bog water
on the way over."
"Scully, this sounds like an opportunity to find out about
another culture. Well, I mean, as a profiler, I should be
aware of sociological myths and legendary creatures."
"What do you sugggest, Mulder? We interview all the
passengers?"
"Well, only the ones who were affected by whatever
phenomenon there was at work on that plane."
"Or, only the ones who had a wee too much of the... "
"That's a stereotype, Scully! Shame on you."
Scully's eyes rolled. "All right. We'll get the list of
passengers affected and see what we can find out. But I'm
telling you, if this is one of your ventures into the
ridiculous, you're doing the entire report. Period."
"You're on."
Apparently, Mulder and Scully hadn't realized that Aer
Lingus had a policy of limited access to alcoholic beverages
on their overseas flights. There also proved to be no
record of anyone appearing intoxicated while bothered by
this mysterious mischief maker.
Scully had a list of interviewees as did Mulder, and they
conferred that night in Mulder's motel room.
"Well, I've heard everything from leprechauns, to witches to
pookas, Mulder." Scully threw her notepad onto the bed. "So,
I did some research on the Web and came up with many theories
on the pooka, all regional, differring forms, in Ireland. Some
took on the forms of horses, dogs, cats, goats, sheep, even
shape-shifting beings. Three people denied there was a pooka
involved, and decided it was turbulence. Two said it was a
leprechaun.
Three told me they hadn't a clue what it was. The common
thread is that all were ousted from a seat or pushed away from
a place in the aisle. How was your luck?"
"About the same. Six people told me there was some invisible
force, maybe turbulence, two said it was an invisible pooka,
one said it was his dead Aunt Betsy getting even for leaving
Ireland, and three said a leprechaun looking for a free ride
to Lord of the Dance."
"Mulder... " That stern tone.
"Okay. Looking for a free ride to America. The point is, with
there being more than one opinion here, how do we decipher
the truth?"
"I haven't a clue, Mulder. There is no scientific evidence of
any of these beings ever having existed. And even the Churches
deny that there were ever Leprechauns, sprites, fairies or
pookas. And pookas? Sounds like a nickname for a lover, or a
dog!"
"But not both, right? Scully, maybe we should check around for
an expert on these things. There's a Professor of Irish Studies
right here in Boston I want to see tomorrrow. Then, I guess, we
try to find the... whatever it is."
"I'll check out the flight log tomorrow. Maybe the pilots and
the instruments will give some indication of conditions on the
flight over. We're talking a five or six hour flight over the
Atlantic Ocean, with a stopover at Gander, Newfoundland."
"Could've been Screech," Mulder smiled.
"Doubtfully. North American policy on drink is much the same."
***
Mulder reached the office of Dr. Michael McDonough at 10:00 a.m.
the next morning. The professor was setting a text of Ancient
Celtic Traditions on a shelf and answered Mulder's knock with a
cheery, "Come in!"
"Professor McDonough, Special Agent Fox Mulder."
"Yes, we spoke on the phone. And what would you be after in me
office? Has a lady put a spell on you?"
"Well, I'm not about to answer that at this point. I do,
however, have a few questions on some of the Irish Mythological
creatures... "
"Oh, fairies, sprites, leprechauns, changelings, and the like.
They're all very grand fantasies of the pre-Christian Ireland.
And there are so many nice stories in Irish Literature, and some
hair raising ones, as well. Yet, there has never been any proof
that these so-called beings ever existed. Every society has had
its legends, myths, explanations for things they didn't
understand until now."
"What about the pooka?"
"Ya can't be serious!"
"Only asking," Mulder shrugged.
"I can tell you that there are so many divergent varieties of
the pooka, and never has concrete evidence been put forward on
these so-called beings. People used to supposedly offer food and
crops to pookas in the promise that their crops would not be
ruined, by the pooka. And there are peopl who have said that
the pooka favor the first of November for prediction of the
future of believers. This is after All Hallow's Eve. But this
is May."
"An Aer Lingus flight on Tuesday came over with some very odd
explanations for... "
Scully entered the office unbeknownst to Mulder. "Turbulence.
Documented by the flight recorder and the pilots, Mulder."
"Well, Agent Mulder, may I halp you any further?" the professor
offered.
"Uh, no. I'd better get going. I have a lot of paperwork to do,"
he replied quickly. "Thank you so much for your time."
As they were walking through the corridors of the university,
Scully remarked, "I told you so."
"Yes, and you were right. Not everything has a paranormal
explanation. How about taking in Lord of the Dance?"
"Well, that's very sweet of you to offer, Mulder. But it
won't get you out of the report."
"I know. But you do like Michael Flatley."
"Only because he has the world's record for number of dance
steps per second, which is twenty-nine, and the way he
fixes the girl's flute in the story."
***
If you wish to know more about the pooka, visit pages on Irish
Mythology, Irish Legends, or type "pooka" on your search page.
It's crazy out there!
And yes, I am of Irish heritage.
"I don't believe in leprechauns, but I know they're there!"
Anonymous
END
Disclaimer: Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox Studios own
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