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Title: A Perfect Family Summary: Parody - why M&S should not have kids.
Dana and Fox Mulder's House "Samantha, turn down that music and get over here this instant!" Dana Scully-Mulder yelled from the bottom of the stairs. "I'll be down in a minute!" Samantha yelled back, muttering something else under her breath. "Okay, you'd better!" Scully moved into the living room and sat on the couch. Fifty-five years old and she had to deal with this kind of crap. She pulled out the latest CD of "TV Guide" and started reading. "They're canceling my favorite show!" she wailed, throwing the CD to the floor in disgust. She heard her daughter's loud footsteps. "Okay mom, what *is* it?" Samantha asked angrily, chewing her gum. Her mom looked at her. Samantha had dyed her natural auburn hair black and was wearing a tight leather dress. She had changed her eye color to purple and had stopped wearing her gold cross years ago. Scully sighed. "I just got a call from a place, somewhere called 'Pleasure Shack'-" "Yeah, and?" Tapping a black booted foot. "What are you doing?" "What do you mean what am I doing?" "You're going to college in the fall!" Scully replied angrily. "Says you. I *hate* school, Mom. This job pays a lot of money." "No daughter of mine is going to be a stripper." "An exotic dancer, Mom - I don't expect you to understand anyway!" "You don't understand -- you're going to college and then when you come back you're taking over the X-Files!" Scully got up and stood right next to her daughter. "X-Files this, X-Files that. Did it ever occur to you that I have absolutely NO interest in the FBI or this stupid paranormal crap?" Samantha gestured towards the file cabinets which lined the living room. "Don't you talk that way to me, young lady. Now, we've planned this since your birth. You *are* following in our footsteps." "No! I'm sick of you controlling my life! I need to live my own life, Mom!" "Unearthing conspiracies is more important than gyrating in front of drunken men night after night! There will be no more discussion!" "You can't stop me." "But your father will." "What's dad gonna do? Tell me another story about all the times you two have wound up in the hospital close to death? About your abduction and cancer? Oh, that really makes me want to follow in your footsteps." Samantha said sarcastically. Scully could only glare at her daughter. Samantha grabbed a leather jacket from the hook and walked towards the door. "Where are you going? We're not done yet." "To a friend's house." Samantha slammed the door loudly behind her. A few seconds later Scully heard her daughter's motorcycle start up and drive off. "Ungrateful bitch." She snarled and sat back down. "MOM! Emily took my new sweater!" A rallying cry from upstairs. "MOM! Don't believe Mel! I didn't!" More feet plodding downstairs. Melissa was fifteen and already starting to rebel. She had cut her auburn hair very short and was looking very thin lately. "See, look at the sweater, that's mine!" Mel screeched, reaching out to grab it off her sister. "Mom make her leave me alone. It's my sweater, remember how you bought it for me?" Nine-year-old Emily defended herself, running away from her sister. "Give it back!" "I didn't take it!" Scully massaged her temples. "Both of you, up to your rooms, now!" "But Mom..." two whining voices at once. "NOW!" Mom in a bad mood was no one to take chances with - both kids had heard about how she'd shot Dad once. And they'd all been brought up on stories of her heroism and greatness in the FBI. "Awright...." Mel said and they both ran upstairs. "Why did I ever have children?" Scully asked aloud as she walked over the liquor cabinet, poured herself a drink and gulped it down. <Seems I drink more and more these days>, she thought as she gulped down another shot.
11:00 PM The front door opened. Scully opened her eyes and sat up. <Drinking yourself to sleep is not a good idea>, she thought absently. Then she heard footsteps and was on full alert. <Someone's in the house>.... "Freeze!" She grabbed her gun off the coffee table and held it on the intruder. "Mom, it's me." Scully lowered her gun. "Billy, how many times must I tell you to knock before you enter?" "Sorry -- I forgot." Billy grinned at her, a lopsided odd grin. He giggled. "What?" "Nothing, nothing..." "Have you been doing drugs again?" "No, of course not. I know what happened the last time. Now I'm tired." He started off towards the stairs. "What is that thing in your nose?" "Oh, this? A nose stud. Andrew said it looked cool." Scully nodded reluctantly. She didn't have the strength for this conversation right now. Billy went upstairs, sighing in relief. The phone rang. Scully reached to answer it. "Hello?" "This is Andrew, is there?" A male voice asked. "Yeah, he just got in." She was about to yell upstairs when her son answered the phone on his own. "Got it mom!" He called. She hung up. Upstairs, Billy sprawled out on his bed. "Hey," he said, in a breathy voice. "I had fun tonight." "Yeah, me too." Billy let out a low throaty laugh. He ran a hand through his short spiky dyed blonde hair. "Let me turn on the video, ah much better." He licked his lips and laughed again. "Mmm...definitely better." Andrew Krycek smiled seductively and moved closer to the video screen. "I wish I was there right now." "Oooh me too -- touch me...touch me Andy." Billy whimpered, removing his T-shirt and kicking off his boots. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" Andrew answered. "Yes...I need you Andy..." Billy whimpered again. "Need to feel your mouth on me..." He moved his hand down his chest. "Unbutton your jeans for me...slowly..." Andrew whispered, his own hand traveling down towards his pants. "Yes," Billy hissed, unbuttoning his jeans slowly. "I'm so hard for you Andy..." "Me too Billyy...God me too...." Andrew whispered, removing his own jeans.
Meanwhile downstairs, Scully was taking her medication. "One pill for Samantha, another for Mel..." She gulped them down with a few sips of brandy and started to giggle. After a few minutes she heard moaning from upstairs. <Someone's hurting my son>, was the only thought she had as she bounded up the stairs. She pulled out her gun and stopped by the door. "1, 2, 3..." she whispered and kicked the door open. "Leave my son...." she trailed off when she saw the scene in front of her. Her son was pressed up against the video screen...his hands...she closed the door and tried to convince herself that did not just happen. Opening the door again she saw the face of the person who her son was "talking" to, Andrew Krycek. "What are you doing?" Scully asked her son who was trying desperately to cover himself. "Umm...Andy needed some help with some homework...." Billy trailed off, that explanation sounded ridiculous even to him. "Right, homework. And as for *you* Andrew. You're supposed to marry Samantha and live in a white colonial with 2.5 kids and a dog named Spot! You're ruining all my plans!" She wailed. "But I barely know Samantha..." Andrew protested. "Yes, but you would get to know her better and become her FBI partner and risk your life for her and then one day declare your undying love. Is this so hard to understand?" "She's joined us before...." Andrew realized he'd said too much and hung up. It took a moment for Scully to realize what he'd just admitted. Her eyes went wide and she walked out of the room, barely resisting the urge to shoot her son. The front door opened again. Fox Mulder entered, puffing on a cigarette and coughing slightly. He tried to be silent, not wanting to deal with his wife until it was absolutely necessary. His "schedule" had kept him from seeing her for a few days already -- he was in no rush. "Fox, is that you?" He cursed silently. "How many times do I have to tell you -- don't call me that," he sighed. "Go back to sleep." "I wasn't sleeping." Scully appeared at the top of the stairs and walked down to meet her husband. She was still beautiful and thin -- he just couldn't stand her anymore. "Sorry I'm late," he apologized, hanging up his trenchcoat. Work had ended much earlier -- at least his official job. "I called your office around six and your secretary said you had left. Where have you been for the past six hours?" "I'm tired. We'll talk tomorrow." He sighed inwardly and tried to get past her. "No, we'll talk now. Is that lipstick on your collar?" After the day that she'd had -- she was just itching for someone to give her an excuse to go off. "You're imagining things, Dana." He tried to walk by her again -- unsuccessfully. "I know that shade. It's your secretary isn't it?" She asked angrily. She had been suspicious for a while. Fox had been acting strangely for a long, long time. "I'm an Assistant Director, Dana...do you really think I have that kind of time? Now if you'll excuse me...." "What do you have in your pocket?" "What?" She reached into his suit jacket's pocket and pulled out a vial. "What the hell is this? More ova?" She looked at the label. He tried to snatch it out of her hands -- they struggled over it for a few moments. "Don't break it...." he said as he pried her fingers off the vial. "It's more of those oiliens isn't it?" He nodded slowly. "You brought oiliens into this house? Dammit, you know how dangerous they are. What if Mel or Emily saw it and decided to drink the contents? I will not let you kill our children with this poison!" "Yeah you've done such a great job of raising them. I'm going out." "Where?" Scully demanded, all wildfire and anger. Then, she decided to change her technique. "I never get to see you anymore...I miss you," she purred. "What happened to us? When we were first married you were so attentive...such a wonderful father to Billy and Samantha....Now, you can't stand to be around us...." She reached out to caress his face and he ducked. "They're your children -- I don't know why you'd wish a life like we had on anyone. What are you doing up so late? Don't you have an autopsy to perform tomorrow?" She glared at him, "They're *your* children too. They definitely have your mental stability." "What's that supposed to mean? You're the one who insisted on naming them after us and wants them to follow in our footsteps. Jesus, Dana, we're not happy! Maybe for a few short years when we were first married, but other than that -- Not now! I'm sick of this argument!" He turned and ran out the door, she heard his car starting and somehow didn't really care all that much. "Fuck you!" she screamed at the door and slammed it hard. How could she have ever married him? Her hand reached for the phone and she dialed the number before she could think. "Alex? Could you come over for a few minutes?"
A Few Minutes Later A knock at the door. "Dana, is something wrong?" Alex Krycek, one armed man, formerly rat bastard who had turned to the good and now ran a stationery store stood in the doorway. She nodded and ran to him, "Oh Alex...," she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him passionately. Their lips met like magnets. He ran his hand through her hair and returned the kiss, deepening it, wanting her. "The couch," she whispered hoarsely, pulling his shirt out of his pants. They wound up entangled in each other, body over body...matching each other thrust for thrust. Totally lost in their own little world. She moaned loudly, her body shaking, blood rushing in her ears. Okay, so maybe he wasn't her husband, but he was a great substitute. What he lacked in hands he made up for in many other areas. "Mom, are you okay?" Billy called from the top of the stairs. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she gasped out, her legs wrapped tightly around Krycek's waist. "I heard a noise." "I was just eating chocolate." "Oh, okay..." Billy went back to his room, not buying it for a second, but if Mom could keep his secret, he could keep hers.
At The Strip Club Girls gyrated on stage to an old song from 1998. No matter how many advances they made in technology -- there was still nothing to compare with the real thing. "You're dancing real close....you're makin' it hard for me...," pumped out over the digital speakers. A new dancer came on stage, dressed in tight leather and high heeled shoes. Her eyes scanned the audience dangerously. The music stopped. "Here's a personal favorite of mine -- Leather Matrix," A man's gravelly voice announced over the speakers. A song started -- harsh with a fast beat -- by some new band or other. The woman removed her long black gloves and the rest of her outfit in a way which would make Gypsy Rose Lee seethe with envy. Her movements were graceful -- yet incredibly sexual. Mulder found himself unable to move. Each thrust of her hips seemed to nail him further into his seat. His gaze followed her, taking in the curves.... She grinned and he knew she meant it for him. As she walked off stage, her head tilted slightly to the right, she winked at him. He wasn't mistaken -- she wanted him. He stood up, only a bit woozy, and followed the woman past a few closed doors and into a small room. This was a commonplace experience. One night stands with anonymous women seemed to be the norm for Mulder these days. When he could have had all the sex he wanted from other women -- guilt-free no less, he had been too in love with Scully. All he had done for hours was fantasize about how her lips would taste, her moans would sound, her skin would flush.... After she became his lover -- wife -- other women ceased to exist. Now she was his chain and he could barely stand to touch her. Whether it was from guilt or lack of interest he couldn't say. "Hey," a soft voice called to him. He turned towards the sound. Her skin positively glowed, and her blonde hair was curled around her shoulders. Deep blue eyes gazed at him with a mixture of arousal and curiosity. Leather Matrix ("Real name Penelope but don't let that get around") grinned and sat down on the oversized couch. "I've seen you here a lot lately, and I know you've seen most of my friends. Felt a bit left out." She lit a cigarette and leaned back. "Oh, really?" He tried to look disinterested, but he knew where this was going . "Yes. It's not fair." "Life is rarely fair." "True, so why are you here so much?" "My wife doesn't understand me." "Well, that's original. You don't seem all that complex to me." She took a drag of her cigarette. "You don't know me. I have many layers." "Hmmm I bet." She grinned, "I can help you remove some of those layers...." She licked her rose-petal lips and reached for his jacket. "Here's one...." Even if the man sitting next to her was in his 50s...she still wanted him. "Let me help you become less complicated," he whispered in return and pulled open her robe. "You're deeper than I am," she whispered and helped him become simpler. Their lips clashed. Their bodies met.... There was a knock at the door. "Go away," Penelope called angrily. "Umm...my name is Susan and you're supposed to show me the ropes...." "I'm busy right now, come back later!" "Your boss said that you were free and if you don't teach me how to do this then you won't get that time off next week." "Shit! Okay, be right there." "I'm sorry, we'll have to finish this another time." Mulder tried to hide his disappointment and quickly got redressed. The door opened. Susan stared at the man near Leather Matrix for a few moments. "Hi." "Yes, we'll finish this later." He turned to Susan and looked her over, "Perhaps you and I could st...." he suggested, leering, but then coughed violently and turned a peculiar shade of green. "Samantha?" "Umm...hi Dad. What are you doing here?" He almost blushed, "Nothing, just investigating a lead, and yourself?" "Practicing my undercover skills," Samantha answered finally. "Yes, well, thank you for the time Ms. Johnson, I'll let you know if we catch them," He turned towards Penelope. "Yes, please do." They shook hands. Mulder left the room and breathed a sigh of relief. "Your Dad, huh?" Samantha nodded, "He's always been a bit off. So where are the costumes?" She didn't believe him for an instant but if he could let her run her life, she'd let him run his. END
Author's Note: "Dancing Real Close" doesn't belong to me, and neither does Gypsy Rose Lee, they belong to themselves or their respective groups :) Yes, this was wrong -- a big ball of wrong. I blame this on everyone who I showed the first scene to who egged me on to write more :) Send me feedback on this at FirePhile@aol.com.
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