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Rated: G
Category: Humour
Spoilers: Season 4
Feedback: patfiler2016@outlook.com
Archive: Gossamer. I usually do the rest.
X-FILES OFFICE
J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING
DECEMBER 31, 1997
2:37 PM
This year, things had settled down a bit just enough for
Mulder and Scully to catch up on paperwork and put their
feet up for a couple of weeks. Scully had been able to see
her family for Christmas, and neither of them had been
assigned to other departments, fallen prey to freaks of
nature or paranormal phenomena, or hospitalized. Tips had
dwindled to a mere trickle. So, Scully had taken some time
out of the day to visit the dentist. She hadn't indicated
any plans for New Year's Eve.
Mulder? He was tiring of the pencil throw, the garbage can
was filled to the brim with rim shots... er, crumpled rough
notes, and for once the phone hadn't rung and the email was
sparse. His New Year's Eve would probably be relatively
uneventful... unless, of course, someone was open to a
little beer and pizza. Maybe that would be pushing things
just a little.
What better time to do those New Year's Resolutions he'd
tried to live up to during the past two years? Even better,
he could try to see just why he hadn't kept them.
As he grabbed a pen, he told himself no one was perfect,
that these things were really nonsense, and he was all right
whether or not he tried to live up to those lofty
expectations he had tried to impose upon himself.
*Wait a minute,* he told himself. *Better do it on the
computer and save to disk. Then wipe it out of the history
folder, as usual.* Well, what would Scully think if she
found any of these around the office? He could just hear her:
'Mulder, you don't really believe that old chestnut, do you?
As a psychologist, you know people can't just set these
goals for themselves, only to feel guilty for not keeping
their resolutons! You might have to come down on yourself!
And what the heck is THIS, Mulder? You know what I mean:
The seventh resolution?'
*What the heck. I'll give it another try.*
He opened up a file and began to type:
This next year being 1998, I Fox William Mulder, do hereby
resolve to accomplish the following tasks:
1) Clean my apartment from top to bottom, north, east, west,
south, stem to stern and maybe under the couch. Who am I
kidding? Well, I might just be able to stop having to buy
new socks in bulk. Yeah, that's an incentive. Besides, I
think Scully would appreciate having a beer without seeing
that inch of dust on the TV, not to mention the rolled up
masking tape from the window.
2) Stock the fridge with healthy stuff that is not datedback to
1992, not full of green material only a scientist can identify, and
cannot be hard enough to do serious injury when airborne.
(Right. How often am I home to read the dates, let alone rescue
the stuff before it resembles something that belongs in a petrie
dish?)
3) Throw out the shells. I'm sure Lariat didn't really need a
shop-vac to remove all those sunflower seed shells like
accounting tried to tell me, especially after that case in
April. How they ended up under the back seat is beyond me,
but maybe I was set up. Anyhow, I resolve to bag the shells
and dispose of them in a more appropriate way... even when
I'm preoccupied with Scully's whereabouts and hovering
objects performing mysterious manouevers and shining their
bright lights all over the country.
4) Umm... I really have to stop ditching Scully. I really
do. I mean, she's my personal doctor, partners need to be
informed of the other agent's location at all times and all
that official and polite minutiae... Heck, I have to keep
her out of danger, and sometimes it's not a good idea to
bring her along when she's objecting to following up on a
lead that wins us the case! So, with all those injuries
after going it alone, I'll have arthritis later in life, but she'll be
safe. She'll even thank me. Gotta stop ditching
Scully...
5) Call Scully in the middle of the night because she would
worry about me if I didn't by this time, and while I really
can't blame her for falling asleep on those long rides
anymore, I value the fact that she's become such a trusted
friend that I can be needy and she won't have to hear me say
it. I need the reassurance of her voice, and she needs to
be needed by me. It's the doctor in her. Anyway, what are
friends for?
6) Stop thinking up nicknames for Skinner when I've had a
couple of beers. Let's see: 'Chrome Dome', 'Mr. Clean's Evil
Twin' and 'A.D. Kojak'... I wonder if the guys and gals at
the bar even know he has a name. It looks like he's on
our side now, too. So, out with the old pet names when I've
had too many and go to the bar pissed off at him. Besides,
all the fibbies at the bar think I have some sort of secret
torture chamber set up for him.
7) Take hold of that absolutely lovely partner of mine on
New Year's Eve and give her lips the best once over they've
ever had. The only reason I missed doing that last year was
the bruised jaw, and it was Frohike's fault I landed flat
on the pavement at quitting time that day. Enough about that.
Scully is getting the warmest of my New Year's wishes this
year, and I know she won't slug me, because her little arms
can't reach my jaw.
8) Duck as fast as I can anyway, because maybe she wouldn't
want me to kiss her even on New Year's Eve after the past
year's ditchings, near death experiences and wild goose
chases. Oh yeah, and the abduction.
9) Fight the valiant battle to continue my search for
Samantha, because that's what I have set my mind on, and
I feel I'm finally getting somewhere with some of the new
information I've stumbled across. I can't wait to take her
back to Mom and make up for all those lost years. With the
nightmares over with and the guilt gone, I will finally
have peace of mind as far as Samantha is concerned.
10) Duck after I kiss Scully tonight. While I do trust my
partner, I just want to make sure she doesn't think I'm not
sincere, after all the problems she's had with Donnie Pfaster
and so many other guys. Scully needs to be kissed. That's
it. She needs a New Year's kiss and she will have a New
Year's kiss. Just as soon as I get up the gumption to ask
her in for beer and pizza tonight. Oh no, that means
dusting...
Signed, this 31st day of December, 1997,
Fox William Mulder.
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