Date sent: Sat, 20 Sep 1997 21:57:16 -0400
From: laura capozzola <lauracap@erols.com>
Subject: NEW: OUT OF CONTEXT (1/1)
DISCLAIMER: The X-Files characters are the creations of Chris Carter.
Chris Carter is the creation of his parents and is a real person. The
dialogue, actions and personality attributed to his character in this
story are not real. All of the familiar dialogue belongs to the 1013
writing staff, although I now know that FOX has a big piece of the
action. Chuck Berry and Brian Wilson wrote Surfin' USA for The Beach
Boys. ABC, NBC, CBS and FOX are mentioned and they're real networks. I
don't know who to attribute for the Friends, Family Matters or ER
references but I'm not profiting and this is NOT a crossover. And, for
those of you who get the heebie-jeebies over the use of real people as
characters, this is a parody...but you knew that.
TITLE: OUT OF CONTEXT (1/1)
AUTHOR: Laura Capozzola
DISTRIBUTION: Please archive. Do not forward to ATXC.
CLASSIFICATION: Story/Humor S/H
RATING: R for language only
KEYWORDS: None
SPOILERS: No plot spoilers but a knowledge of Season 4 episodes
might help with the jokes.
SUMMARY: The unthinkable happens. The X-Files is shut down and
Mulder, Scully, Skinner, CSM, WMM and Alex Krycek find
out how hard it is to get a decent job in TV land.
=====================
OUT OF CONTEXT (1/1)
by Laura Capozzola
=====================
"Scully, what are you doing here?" Fox Mulder held open the door to
the 1013 bungalow on the Twentieth Century Fox lot.
"I could ask you the same question, Mulder. I had a call that Chris
wanted to see me first thing in the morning. Do you know what he
wants?"
"I have no idea but it looks like we're not the only ones invited to
this get-together." Before his partner could enter the building,
Mulder let go of the door and Scully followed his gaze to the scene
unfolding before them.
While Walter Skinner approached the pair on foot, a black fleet sedan,
apparently out of control, came careening through the parking lot at an
unbelievable speed. After bouncing off of several late model BMW's and
barely missing the Assistant Director, it screeched to a halt directly
in front of the bungalow door. The handicapped plate, an obvious
forgery to any astute observer, dangled for a second from the bumper
before dropping to the pavement. As the vehicle's three occupants
spilled out, the right front tire deflated causing an outpouring of TV
14 cursing from the Well Manicured Man, The Cigarette Smoking Man and
the driver, Alex Krycek.
CSM shaded his eyes from the unrelenting California sun, surveyed the
parking lot and kicked the flat tire disgustedly. "There's nothing here
but holes in the ground."
The Well Manicured Man, while somewhat distressed, spotted Agent Scully
and waved. "Hello again, young lady."
Scully shot a perplexed look at Mulder but the FBI agent only had eyes
for one person and it wasn't Scully. Pulling out his gun, he lunged for
Alex Krycek who was attempting to retrieve the fake handicapped plate,
and slammed him down on the hood of the lopsided car. "Did you kill my
father? Answer me. Did you kill my father?"
"Oh, no. Not again." Krycek was getting tired of this tango that he
and Mulder did every time they met. Nevertheless, he trembled, shook
his head and looked to Agent Scully for assistance.
"I can't help you, Krycek. I'd shoot him again but technically he's
already dead until the World Series is over. You're on your own this
time."
Skinner, who had no patience for these emotional outbursts, grabbed
Mulder by the collar of his raincoat, causing the FBI agent to drop his
gun and let go of the one-armed duplicitous rodent. The weapon fired as
it hit the pavement putting a hole in the left front tire so that now
the entire front end of the vehicle dipped precariously. Krycek, unable
to recover his balance, slid off the sloping hood of the car and tumbled
into the parking lot on his butt.
And then they heard it. Singing. It was coming from inside the
bungalow.
"If everybody had an ocean
Across the USAAAAAAAAAAA
Then everybody'd be surfin'
Like Californ-i-aaaaaaaaaaaaa."
It sounded like the boss. The brouhaha in the parking lot was
forgotten as they strained to listen.
"You'd see `em wearin' their baggies
Huarachi sandals, too
A boooushy, boooushy blonde hairdo
Surfin' USAAAAAAAAA."
It WAS the boss!
CSM rolled his eyes and pulled Krycek up off of the ground. Skinner, as
a matter of reflex, clenched his teeth. Mulder, who knew why they put
the "I" in FBI, decided that the only way to find out what was going on
was to go inside. He held the door open and they all entered the
outside office which was surprisingly dark and empty except for some
half-packed boxes scattered around. Scully reached for her flashlight
to illuminate their path.
"You mind telling me what's going on here?" Skinner was sure he was the
only one who didn't know, was pretty sure he didn't want to know but
directed the question at his two agents because he figured he really
ought to know.
"I think we'd all like to know the answer to that question." Mulder
found the door labeled "THE CREATOR" and stepped inside followed by
Scully, CSM, WMM and then Krycek. Skinner, who wanted Krycek in front
of him where he could keep an eye on him, entered last.
Except for the floral patterned surfer-type pants that stopped at his
knees and a string of puka shells circling his neck, the boss was
shoeless and shirtless. As he shook his hips and sang loudly, he dusted
the cobwebs off of his surfboard, oblivious to the audience behind him.
"We'll all be planning that route
We're gonna take real sooooooooon
We're waxin' down our surfboards
We can't wait for Juuuuuuune.
We'll all be gone for the summer
We're on safari to staaaay"
All of a sudden he leapt up onto the top of his desk, hung ten over the
side, struck a classic surfer pose and belted out the last two lines.
"Tell the teacher we're surfin'
Surfin' USAAAAAAAAAA."
Even Walter Skinner's jaw came loose and dropped.
When Chris Carter realized that his characters had arrived, he
immediately jumped from the desk, plopped into his chair and hooked a
clip-on tie to his puka shell necklace. After all, this meeting was
about very serious business and he wanted to convey the right tone. He
motioned for them to find a seat and all but one did.
"Chris, what's going on? What are you doing? What are all of these
boxes?"
"They're shutting us down, Scully." Carter didn't mince words. It was
the way his female character liked to get bad news. "We had a good run,
now it's over."
"You fool! You stupid fool! This must be corrected. This must be
handled." Well Manicured Man didn't take the bad news in stride and he
glared at The Creator.
"Well, of course it can be." CSM was more optimistic. "Isn't that so,
Chris?"
Mulder wasn't so sure. This was probably the worst news he ever got.
He jumped up and pointed a finger at the powerful smoking man he was
certain was responsible for most of his misery. "What, can YOU do about
it? I'll do whatever it takes?"
"So, you need me now...a man of my capabilities?" The Cigarette Smoking
Man lit up and puffed a cloud of smoke in the FBI agent's face.
"Mulder!" The Assistant Director stood three inches from his
subordinate's nose. "Shut up and sit down. You deal with this man, you
offer him anything, and he will own you forever."
"Look nobody is making any deals or doing anything to anyone. Those
days are over. Let's hold our heads up and be proud of our
accomplishments." Carter looked at the forlorn faces of his characters.
He knew that he would miss them. "I, er, can talk to the FOX
executives, again, and see if I can persuade them to change their
minds."
"Chris, with all due respect, I think you overestimate your position in
the chain of command." Scully was pissed.
And Carter was stung. He didn't want it to end like this. "Look, I set
up job interviews for all of you." He pulled some envelopes out of his
desk drawer and handed them to his characters.
"What's going to happen to you, Chris?" Mulder secretly thought Chris
Carter was his real father.
"I'm taking that 11 foot stick over there," Carter pointed to his
surfboard, "and I'm heading for Sunset Beach in Oahu to catch the big
waves. I haven't had an extended vacation in years." He tried to put
on an optimistic face but the usual twinkle in his eyes had dimmed.
"The network still owns me." He looked down at his desk and his lower
lip started to quiver. "I, uh, hear Aaron Spelling has an opening."
"Chris, do you realize what they DO in his shows?"
His horrified characters squinched up their eyes and averted their faces
so Carter couldn't see their concern.
"It's not so bad. Really. FOX also offered me a special, "The World's
Worst Surfing Accidents." Carter was trying hard to be upbeat. "Right
before The Simpson's."
Alex Krycek looked at the empty sleeve of his leather jacket and
wondered what kind of role was out there for a lying, cheating,
duplicitous one-armed rat. The Well-Manicured Man considered his age
and his once powerful position. Who would hire a nameless man who
dressed better than a network executive? The Cigarette Smoking Man
thought maybe he could get a job as a writer. He had been posting
X-Files fan fiction for the past year and was pleased with the positive
feedback he got on his MSR's.
They fingered the envelopes and opened them tentatively.
**********************************************************************
PERSONNEL DEPT. - 22nd FLOOR
COLUMBIA BROADCASTING COMPANY (CBS)
"Walter, come in. Have a seat. My name is Spencer Peterson." The
personnel director extended a limp hand to Skinner. "Have you had a
chance to read over the stock option plan we offer our employees here at
CBS? It's very popular."
"I am quite aware of your policies in those regards." Skinner didn't
like this guy's close-together eyes. Something wasn't quite right.
"I see on your resume, Walter, that you were a former Assistant Director
of the FBI. How many agents reported to you?"
"I'm not sure. My secretary kept track of that. I spent most of my
time with only two of them."
"Well, how did you interrelate with them?"
"Primarily, it was disciplinary or helping them to get out of some mess.
They seemed to always be in trouble." Skinner smiled at his
recollections. "Nothing big, you understand." He rattled off some of
the more memorable escapades. "Chased by black ops, possessed a tape of
stolen defense department secrets, took a murderer to Russia, went to
Hong Kong without official permission to travel overseas, lied to a
panel of government executives, punched me in the FBI hallway, wrecked a
rental car, failed to answer a subpoena to appear before a Congressional
committee, refused to answer questions for that same Congressional
committee, lost evidence repeatedly, withheld evidence on a case
involving diplomatic immunity, checked a child serial murderer out of
prison without permission, tried to track down a relative's
disappearance on government time, oh and there was the bees and smallpox
incident, you know, small potatoes. Of course, most of the time I
didn't have a clue as to what they were up to until the shit hit the
fan." Skinner thought a truthful casual approach to the interview would
work best for him. It was so degrading to be looking for work after all
of these years. He didn't know how to act.
"I see here under experience you once impersonated one of your
subordinates, stole a body out of a morgue and incinerated it. And,
let's see you did that job for...," the personnel director looked at the
resume a second time and then at Walter Skinner, "the Cigarette Smoking
Man?"
Skinner nodded enthusiastically. He never realized that his side job
for the black-lunged bastard would be the richest experience he could
list on his resume.
"And this man you call the Cigarette Smoking Man, he works for..." the
personnel director once again looked at the resume to see if he was
reading it correctly, "the Well Manicured Man?"
"Yes. That would be correct. I never met the Well Manicured Man until
the other day in Chris Carter's office, but one of my agents says he
always dresses impeccably and he's very clean with his personal hygiene.
Did I mention cleanliness is very important to me?"
"Walter, I need their real names."
"These men don't have names." Skinner was very matter-of-fact.
Peterson tapped his fingers on the desk top. "I see. Well, we need to
check your personal references, too. How about an address and phone
number for Chris Carter?"
"There was a time when I might have been able to tell you how to contact
him, but that time is past." Skinner thought about Carter lying on the
beach.
Peterson leaned back in his chair. "Just between you and me, Skinner,
those of us at the Big Three Networks are delighted when upstart punks
like Carter get dumped on their ass."
Skinner snapped. The guy just pushed the wrong button.
"At least he doesn't take an elevator up to get to work."
The personnel director slammed his pen on the desk. "I think it's
getting a little chilly in here."
"Just think warm thoughts." Skinner was really clenching now. Teeth.
Butt. Teeth. Butt. Teeth. Butt.
"Well, let me tell you something, Skinner." Peterson's tone was
decidedly sarcastic. "We've got one opening for a man of your limited
experience. Family Matters moved from ABC to CBS. The job is Urkel's
new boss. Urkel always gets in trouble. It should be right up your
alley. Take it or leave it."
Skinner stood up and glared at the man behind the desk.
Peterson rose, too.
"This is where you pucker up and kiss my ass." Skinner spat the words
at the liver eating mutant. "You can shove your job where the sun
doesn't shine." The former Assistant Director spun on his heels and
headed for the door.
"Let me give you some advice, Skinner." Peterson was yelling. "You're
nothing now. Nothing. Do you understand? Nothing! You're lucky we
offered you this job. You better take it or you'll be cleaning
bathrooms for a living."
Skinner stopped, pulled out his pen, walked back over to the man behind
the desk and jabbed the pen into the base of his neck. Green goo oozed
from the opening. Peterson slumped to the floor.
"Well, I'll be damned. Mulder was right after all." A green stain
formed on the carpet causing him to pause momentarily and finger the
spot remover in his raincoat pocket. But time was of the essence.
Skinner donned his baseball cap, picked up the body and headed for the
incinerator in the basement. If anyone stopped him, he could always
whip out Mulder's ID.
**********************************************************************
NBC STUDIOS
FRIENDS - CENTRAL PERK SET
"Hi. I'm Fox Mulder." The former FBI agent extended his hand to Joey,
Ross and Chandler who gave him the once-over but didn't return the
gesture.
"Aren't you dead?" Joey snickered.
"I was a dead man. Now I'm back."
Ross eyed Mulder with suspicion and distaste. There were six of them on
the show, for crying out loud, and it was only a half hour sitcom. He
didn't know why the hell the producers wanted to increase the size of
the cast. "Where's the other new guy?"
"That would be me, Krycek." Alex Krycek stepped forward and also
extended his hand to the 3 men, but if they were cool to Mulder they
were downright icy to Krycek.
"We don't dress like that around here." Ross sniffed as he sized up
Mulder's suit and raincoat and Krycek's leather jacket. "I suggest you
pay a visit to wardrobe."
"Yeah, who are you supposed to be anyway," Chandler taunted, "One-Armed
Handicapped Guy? And what the heck is that in your latte cup? A tea
ball?"
The laugh track startled Krycek who became defensive. "Where do you get
off copping this attitude? You don't know the first thing about me."
Krycek was upset and Mulder was uneasy.
"So, what do you guys do around here?" Mulder felt claustrophobic in
the coffee house with these strange people and he missed Scully. He
thought it was best to shift the focus of attention from himself and
Krycek to the three spoiled characters.
"We do a lot of fun things. This is an amazing show. Last night we
went out to dinner and then went to see one of Joey's plays. Sometimes
we go to rock concerts or hockey games or have parties. Why, what do
you guys do after hours?"
Mulder answered honestly. "Well, last night we were chased by some kind
of hit squad driving what looked an awful lot like CIA fleet sedans."
Ross snorted.
"Hey Mulder, see that waitress over there by that table. Maybe she's
Samantha." Joey poked his two long-time cast mates.
"Yeah," Ross chimed in, "and that guy by the door is an alien."
"I don't THINK so." Chandler shot back. "That's Mulder's real father.
Oh by the way, do either of you have the time? I seem to have lost NINE
minutes."
Ross slapped Chandler on the back and Joey spewed coffee from his nose
as the laugh track bolstered their attacks on Mulder and Krycek.
Mulder's lower lip came out and for a minute Krycek worried that his
former adversary was going to throw himself on the couch and burst into
tears. It didn't happen. Krycek shot Mulder a look and both men
simultaneously drew their weapons. As the patrons of Central Perk
shrieked in horror and ran out the door, Joey, Ross and Chandler
blanched in abject fear.
This had never happened before on any episode of Friends.
Krycek placed the barrel of his gun between the eyes of Chandler Bing.
"Agent Mulder and I are leaving now. But if I so much as feel your
presence, I'm going to make you a very, very famous man. Do you
understand?"
A puddle of piss collected at Chandler's feet and he bobbed his head to
signal comprehension.
As the two proud X-Files men made their way out of Central Perk, Mulder
put his arm around Krycek's shoulder and pulled him towards him
forcefully. "Krycek, did you kill my father?"
"Oh, no. Not again."
Neither of them heard Joey Tribbiani scream after Mulder, "Your mother
didn't slap you hard enough!"
*********************************************************************
NBC STUDIOS
ER SET
"Hello, I'm Doctor CSM and this is Doctor Scully. What seems to be the
problem?" The Cigarette Smoking Man leaned over the car accident
victim's bloody broken body.
"Am I gonna live, Doc?"
CSM shrugged his shoulders. "We tell you only what you need to know.
Dr. Scully, where are the bandages?"
Scully pulled CSM over to the side. "This patient is in very serious
condition. It seems to me that we should call Dr. Greene or Dr. Carter
over here to examine him."
"I can handle it, Scully. Where are the bandages?"
"Look, I'm a real doctor. I really think that you should call one of
the other, more experienced doctors over to look at this man or he will
die."
"I said I can handle it."
"But -"
"Where are the bandages, Scully?"
Scully looked at him defiantly and tossed some gauze in his direction.
"Do you have the tape? Do you have the damn tape?" CSM was losing his
patience.
"Doc, I need to know. Tell me, please, am I going to live?" The
accident victim could barely whisper his question.
CSM lied. "Yes, yes. Of course you're going to live." He hated these
touchy-feely moments and yearned for the good old days.
But Scully, the realist, leaned over the bed. "Sir, this man is telling
you everything that you want to hear. But, it's a fabrication. It's
pure science fiction. You're going to die."
CSM was startled but strangely invigorated by the truth of Scully's
words. He turned to one of the interns. "She's right! Have the body
destroyed."
But this man isn't dead yet," Scully sputtered.
"Isn't that the prognosis?"
DR. CSM and Dr. Scully moved on to the next patient, a 16 year old boy
who was moaning in pain.
"The EMT's brought him in from one of the area high schools. He
collapsed while taking his finals."
"I need something for the pain. My stomach is killing me."
"I'm sure it's his appendix. He has severe abdominal pain and
tenderness in the lower right-hand part of his abdomen. He's feverish,
nauseated and he says he hasn't had a bowel movement in the last two
days." Scully was convinced her diagnosis was correct.
But Dr. CSM thought the kid was faking. "I have what you want." He
dangled some pain pills in front of the kid's face then snatched them
away when the kid reached for them.
"Please," the kid moaned, "I need something for the pain. I'll do
anything."
"Really? Well, I don't negotiate...especially, with punks like you who
think you can bluff me."
"CUTTTTTTT!!!! Just what do you two think you're doing?" The director
was visibly upset. "Well? Just answer the question."
"What IS the question?" Chris Carter threw open the double doors and
marched onto the ER set as French horns proclaimed his arrival. Fox
Mulder, Walter Skinner, WMM and Alex Krycek followed in his wake.
Mulder hugged Scully. An overly-excited Krycek spewed a few dormant
Oiliens from his eyes, nose and mouth. As Skinner jerked the cigarette
out of CSM's mouth and ruffled his hair affectionately, Carter and WMM
beamed.
"Chris, what's this all about? Why are you all here?"
Carter glanced over at WMM who nodded his consent. "I'll tell you the
truth." Carter put his arm around the redhead.
But Scully shook him off. "I've heard the truth. Now what I want are
the answers."
"Okay. I paid a visit to WMM and his associates on 46th Street in New
York. They found out that operatives from CBS, NBC and ABC had
infiltrated the highest levels of FOX to target the Sunday night
line-up," he paused and sucked in his breath, "...for elimination."
Carter's characters gasped audibly.
"We were first on the hit list. They were coming after Marge and Homer
next. I made a deal and our friends at the Consortium took care of the
matter personally."
CSM frowned at being left off of such an important assignment but WMM
had anticipated his reaction.
"I don't think you realize what was at stake here. What level this had
to be carried out to. It took more than just a good aim and the work of
one of your ineffectual assassins."
"Hey!" Now Krycek was offended.
WMM ignored him and continued to rebuke CSM. "So just keep your mouth
shut. Do you understand?"
"Don't try and threaten me. I've watched Presidents die." CSM wasn't
backing down.
Mulder ignored the two powerful men and addressed Carter. "How do we
know the Big 3 Networks won't try again? What are you going to do about
it, Chris?"
Carter's eyes twinkled brightly and his words were emphatic. "There's
only one thing I can do Agent Mulder. Right now I'm re- opening the
X-Files...that's what they fear the most. Now let's get back to doing
what we all do best."
A cheer went up from the group as they followed their boss off of the ER
set.
"Hey Alex, wait up." Mulder left Scully in the dust and moved quickly
to catch up to Krycek.
"I just want to know one thing. Did you kill my father?"
"Oh, no. Not again."
Krycek never saw the punch coming.
THE END