Sketch Of Ages

We open our scene to... the interior of a dimly lit hospital room, the only light falling upon Dana Scully's sad blue eyes, which remarkably match her hospital gown to the exact shade of blue. We see Walter Skinner, her superior, boss, friend, and underused character, standing beside her. He looks confused, which is generally a pained face he makes much like constipation. For reference, see every season 1-7.

Skinner: Soooo...

Scully: So.

Sk: You're preggers, huh?

Sc: Yep.

Sk: But I thought...

Sc: I know.

Sk: Then how did you...

Sc: We ran out of storyline.

Sk: Ah.

Sc: Not a pretty sight.

Sk: No.

Sc, Sk: (awkward silence)

Sk: (sighing)

Sc: Don't worry, he wasn't as good as you.

We cut to... Int. of a super top-secret hideout--a dark and menacing place that is brightened only by well-placed curtains--somewhere in the United States, most likely New York City, but then again maybe not. It's secret! Sheesh. Papers, weapons, various instruments of destruction, guns, ammo, vials of liquid, and a yo-yo with a frayed string lie on the table. We see those two crazy kids Alex Krycek and Marita Covarrubias talking.

Krycek, (clenching a black-gloved fist in a menacing Darth Vader-like fashion): Bwahahahahaaaaa!

Marita: What're you so happy about?

K: The Smoker! The CSM! Cancer-Man! CGB! Mr. Spender! The Black-Lunged Son of a Bitch! Y'know, what's-his-name, with the fuzzy chest. He's dead!

Mar: No he's not. Jeez, don't you know anything?

K, (surprised): How do you expect me to keep up when I'm only here one episode a season?

Mar: And whose fault is that?

K: Chris O'Donnell's?

Mar: Well, I know more than you do.

K: Oh yeah? Then how do you explain your recovery from the Black Oil/Purity Control/Oilen stuff?

Mar: Uhhh...the...script?

K: I asked you to explain it, not confuse it further.

Mar: All I know is that we have to keep the CSM around since they fried the Syndicate and killed off that bad actor...

K: Bill Paxston?

Mar: No, the other one.

K: Melanie Griffith?

Mar: No, the fat Italian guy.

K, (gasping): Danny Aiello??

Mar, (rolling eyes): The CSM has to be alive because we have no other evil characters on the show now.

K, (pouting): I'm evil.

Mar: No you're not. You pushed him down a flight of stairs. That's not evil.

K: But it was a dramatic, almost cinema-like representation of my loathing and disgust for him! They should've put that in a movie! Did you happen to notice the perfect way he tumbled down the stairs, like a camera had been placed at the bottom? Why should I do it with a bullet when I could humiliate a helpless wheelchair-bound old dying guy? Besides, it was a classic scene of good versus evil, and good won!

Mar: You're not good either.

K, (thinking): Hmm, you're right. What am I then?

Mar: Morally ambiguous.

K: Of course. (Nodding) Like David Bowie.

Mar: *Morally* ambiguous, not sexually ambiguous...

Meanwhile, in a large sleek alien craft (probably spheroid-shaped, because you don't see many square spaceships, do you?) hurtling through space, enter Special Agent Fox Mulder, wearing a Hawaiian lei and sipping a frozen lime margarita made with Jose Cuervo Gold, the glass rimmed with salt, topped with a mini purple parasol.

Mulder: Duuuuude!

Large alien, (rather perturbed at the behavior of one of the FBI's top agents but not totally surprised): Fox.

M: Where are all the chicks at?

Alien, (blinking): I'm sorry?

M: Y'know, chicks. Senoritas. Females. Da laaaa-dies, man.

Alien: Females? There are no human females here, Fox.

M, (putting finger to lip thoughtfully): Are you sure? I was under the impression that one of the perks of hurtling through space was that I'd get a booty call or two. Or six.

Alien, (blinking again): Booty call? Please define this "booty call."

M, (elbowing the large alien): Right. A little roll in the hay, knowwhatImean? A little wink wink, nudge nudge, gov'nor.

Alien, (sternly): Please remove your elbow from my torso.

M: So wait a minute...there are no women on board? What about all those people I walked into the light with?

Alien: Special effects.

M: No kiddin'?

Alien: Your small human brain is easily manipulated.

M: Hmm. What about the women who undressed me and gave me these change of clothes when I came on board?

Alien: An illusion used to make you feel more comfortable. And your clothing is modeled after a group of humans that seem to embody the spirit of frivolity and fun.

M, (staring, confused, at his Hawaiian get-up)

Alien: The cult known as "Parrotheads."

M: Ahh.

Alien: This "Wastin' away in Margaritaville" seems highly desirable.

M: But there are no hot mamas here!

Alien: Correct, Fox. This ship was not created nor designed for recreation.

M: No frivolity and fun then?

Alien: I'm afraid not.

M: No relaxing party atmosphere?

Alien: Nope.

M: No strippers, dancers, or entertainment?

Alien: Sorry.

M: Then what...

Alien, (holding up large probe-like instrument)

M: You want to stick that...

Alien, (nodding)

M, (turning pale)

Alien: We shall endeavor to provide what you humans call "lube"...

M, (faints)

We return to: Int. of the hospial room again, which unlike most people's hospital stays, is in a private room, nice and quiet.

Skinner, (sighing): This is kind of...

Scully: Amazing? Wonderful? Miraculous?

Sk: Freaking weird.

Sc: I suppose.

Sk: I mean, this is not something you can prepare for easily...

Sc, (shrugging): Shit happens.

Sk, (scratching his bald head): You're taking this rather calmly.

Sc: Well, I can't get too excited until we do more tests.

Sk: What sorts of tests?

Sc: Oh, y'know, to make sure the baby is all right, to make sure I'm all right, to check the (mumbling) paternity.

Sk: Um, pardon me? Did you just mumble "paternity?"

Sc: Sorta...

Sk: You're saying you're not sure if it's Mulder's or mine?

Sc: Sorta...

Sk, (choking): You're saying you're not sure if it's Mulder's, mine, or...

Sc: Hey, I've been lonely...

Back at the top-secret hideout...

Krycek: C'mon now, I can be evil. Look, watch this evil face I can make. (Makes a face) See? Evil incarnate!

Marita, (staring intently): You look stern.

K: Stern? That's it? Wait, here, give me some shadowy lighting! (Krycek steps into a darkened corner of the room and grabs a lamp) There! Now look. Don't I look menacing?

Mar: Kinda.

K: Ooh, ooh, leather! I need leather! A leather jacket that moans and creaks and makes interestingly sexy sounds when I'm around. All the bad guys wear leather!

Mar: Yeah, that's true...

K, (donning black leather jacket): There, see?

Mar, (rolling eyes): That's not a jacket. It's a vest. You look like you're going to a bondage party in the Castro.

K, (confused): A party in Cuba?

Mar: Not Fidel Castro, *The* Castro...the gay section of San Francisco...

K, (still confused): Fidel Castro is gay?

Alien, (annoyed): Fox, it's most likely better for your lower digestive tract and excretory organs if you stop flailing.

M, (flailing wildly, unable to keep from being held tightly by two other larger, meaner-looking aliens): What about...

Alien: This "lube" as you call it? We were unable to procure your human-made products such as "Astroglide" or "Wet." We have been therefore required to substitute something else.

M, (panicked): What something else?!

Alien: In the Greater Berlexian moon's rainforest there dwells a slug-creature that sheds its mucus once every...

M, (faints again)

Cut back to: Int. of the hospital room, some time later, Skinner sitting sprawled out on a chair while Scully talks.

Scully, (in the middle of a speech): ...then I got tired of him because all he wanted to do was talk about his dog and his ex-girlfriend, and he had this annoying habit of conversing with the vegetables as he cooked dinner, so I moved on to...

Skinner, (interrupting): Wait a minute. You're saying that you've actually had a life this entire time?

Sc: Well, yeah. You thought all I did was work and spout medical jargon? Please.

Sk: And you've...been out with all these men?

Sc: And one woman, but I was drunk and we won't go into that...

Sk, (interrupting again): So you were *pretending* that you were an intense workaholic, that you were frigid, and that you were devoted to the FBI?

Sc, (shrugging)

Sk, (pouting): That means you never loved me?

Sc, (pointedly): You were hung.

[fade out]

Scene returns to the hideout, with Krycek sitting there with his head in his hands, Marita sitting beside him.

Krycek, (sniffing): So I really don't look evil at all?

Marita: Not really.

K: What if I scowled intently? (scowling)

Mar, (shaking her head)

K: If I made threatening gestures? (gesturing)

Mar: Nope.

K: How about decidedly evil-looking posturing? (posturing-ing)

Mar: Not quite.

K, (sighing dejectedly): Not even a little mean?

Mar: I'd trust you with my puppy.

K, (making heartbroken sounds): Maybe I was never truly evil...(sobs) Maybe this entire time I've simply been misunderstood. Maybe I'm really a nice guy deep inside...

Mar: Well, I highly doubt that.

K, (sniffing): Really?

Mar: You have killed a person or two.

K, (brightening): Yeah! Yeah I have. I've got that going for me, don't I?

Mar, (patting him): Sure you do. And you can be morally ambiguous, remember?

K, (sniffing again): Yeah, I've always loved Ziggy Stardust...

[fade out]

Int. of the hurtling space ship, now hurtling slightly slower because the alien is sipping a martini.

Alien, (sipping): You did just fine, Fox.

Mulder, (smoking cigarette): Yeah, who knew?

Alien: You were making some interesting sounds.

M, (blushing): The Greater Berlexian moon's rainforest slug-creature worked surprisingly well.

Alien: I'd have to agree.

M, (tapping cigarette): So where is this ship going?

Alien, (sucking the pimento out of his olive): To the All-Male Scantily-Clad Oiled Wrestlers planet.

M: Ah.

Alien: Yep.

M, (smoke curling lazily around his heavy-lidded eyes): These wrestlers...do they all, um, have the same, er, appendages as you?

Alien, (twin tongues darting out to catch a droplet of gin and vermouth from his chin): I represent one of the members of my species in an immature stage. Most are in higher stages of development.

M: Ah.

Alien: Yep.

M, (starting to speak again)

Alien, (interrupting, and finishing for Mulder): *Much* higher.

M: Ah.

Alien: Yep.

M: When do we get there?

Alien, (looking at watch): Oh, in about the time it takes to give you a few more, er, tests.

M, (eyeing him): Well, this time I want some cuddling afterwards.

[fade out]

Adieu
RhymePhile

Comments appreciated, lubed or not. Oh, and apologies to Monty Python, and fans of all the actors I insulted herein.