TITLE: Cover-ups of the Third Kind
SUMMARY: Halloween in DC
AUTHOR'S NOTES: After my foray into the serious, I had to go back to humor. I think I'll stay here.
I was sitting at my desk, munching on sunflower seeds and contemplating exactly how I came to be wearing a WWII Army dress uniform to work today.
The memo that arrived earlier this week stated that ALL Federal Government Employees had to come to work on Friday dressed in a Halloween costume. It went on to say something about boosting moral in this town and a bunch of other hooey.
I wonder if the Supreme Court Justices are sitting on the bench right now with Superman and Playboy Bunny costumes under there robes? Surely not!
I believe it is part of a giant conspiracy by the White House to make us, in our embarrassment, forget that Monica Lewinsky ever graced this fair Capitol in a cocktail dress. Those bombings didn't work. Hell, that guy with all those homeruns didn't even make us forget. Maybe the president figures if he could make those of us in this town forget, the trickle down theory will work again.
I wonder what Jesse Helms is wearing today?
Scully walked into our office just as I was picturing Helms in his White Power Ranger costume.
"What in the hell are you supposed to be, Scully?"
"I forgot about it until this morning, Mulder. I had to scrape something up from my closet."
She had on this little mini-dress with the Union Jack on it and platform boots.
"And what are you?"
"Mulder, are you daft? I'm a Spice Girl."
"Something like that."
"And you just had that in your closet?"
"I went to college, Mulder. I used to have a life."
"You wore go-go boots in this past life?"
"If the occasion called for it."
I'd have to dig deeper into that one later, for at that moment our trusted leader Walter Skinner entered the office. He was dressed in a Nazi SS uniform.
"Should I shoot you now, or take you prisoner?" I asked him from behind my desk.
He eyeballed me up and down (why is he always doing that??) and then said "Didn't you get my memo yesterday? All partners are supposed to dress as a partner team, like Batman and Robin. Sonny and Cher. You know, like you did for my private party last year."
"I lost my Men In Black costume at the cleaners, sir. And Scully keeps insisting that her two headed alien costume is scientifically inaccurate."
"Well, either she needs to become Rosie the Rivetor or-"
Now he was eyeballing Scully Spice up and down. What's the matter with this guy?
"-you have become one of the Hanson brothers," he said, his hand pointing at me from inside a large, gray sleeve.
"I can't do that, sir. I have facial hair."
"Then I suggest you get her outfitted correctly. I expect my department to win this year. I can't do that if you two show up as-as- Private Ryan and His Go-Go Dancing sidekick. I expect more from you two."
"I'm a Captain, sir. Not a Private."
He then (and I swear this is true) goose stepped to the door and left.
"Well, Scully Spice. I know of this great vintage shop in Alexandria. Shall we go?"
We must have looked quite the pair, walking into that shop. Here I was, GI Joe, Captain GI Joe non-the-less, escorting one of the Spice Girls into this store.
I picked out this long, red dress from that era and handed it to her.
"Mulder-" she whined "Can't I be a Navy nurse or something? You get to wear that uniform. Why can't I have one? This is so frilly."
"I make this uniform look good. Besides, you can show up wearing the Union Jack, but something frilly is beneath you?"
"It's just so-Donna Reed."
"I think Donna Reed came a little bit later. I think you'll look good in this."
We both looked out the window at the same time. A Bigfoot monster had just walked by.
"Was that Janet Reno?" I asked.
"I think so. Ok, Mulder, let's just take it and get out of here. I can't believe I have to be a hausfrau."
"I don't think during that war you would have wanted to be saying "hausfrau."
"Oh, yeah. Sorry."
Later at the party in the cafeteria (did I forget to mention the party?) we lost the contest to a couple of partners dressed like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I demanded a recount, but Skinner goose-stepped over to me and told me better luck next year.
Hopefully Monica Lewinsky would be long gone by next year.