From: jbkerper@central.cis.upenn.edu (Jodi Kerper)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New: "A Dog Story" (SHORT!)
Date: 8 Nov 1995 16:36:49 GMT


This story was written a while back, after "Clyde Bruckman." My
inspiration was drawn from someone on atxfc asking what Mulder's
reaction to the new "man" in Scully's life might be.

EMXC'ers, you've already seen this - please don't waste your time...

Mulder, Scully, and even that pesky little runt of a dog belong to
Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen, and Fox, with a lot of help from David
Duchovny and Gillian Anderson.  Please, Mr. Carter, can I borrow your
creations for a little bit?

A Dog Story, by Jodi Kerper. Completed 10/19/95

Here we go....
----------

"What the _hell_ is that?" The man in the doorway yelped.

"It's a dog, Mulder, what does it look like?" Scully parked her hands on her
hips, glaring at him.  "Say hello, and come in. The game's ready to start,
and I've got munchies on the coffee table."

Mulder walked into the room, trying to avoid stepping on the hyperactive,
long-haired furball that seemingly adored him. The damn dog kept jumping on
his leg, convinced that if it showed its affection just a little bit more, it
might be rewarded by strokes of attention from the tall man striding beside
him.

Fox Mulder collapsed on the couch, only to see the dog leap up beside him.

"If it licks my face, Scully, he's dead. Oh, and in answer to your previous
question?  A rat that needs a shave. You might as well call him Krycek. This
is NOT what I had in mind when you invited me over to watch baseball."
Emphatically, he gestured at the television set.  Unfortunately, he was also
holding a tortilla chip at the same time.  The dog had been tracking that
hand and the chip in it ever since Mulder reached into the bowl. As soon as
the chip came within range, he pounced, snatching it out of Mulder's hand. 

Dana couldn't help but laugh at the look of disgust on her partner's face.
When she brought the dog back from the last case, it had been with the intent
of finding it a good home, but something about the look on its face as it
stared at her, head tilted to one side as if evaluating her merits as a pet
owner had melted her heart.  That look reminded her of someone - she just
couldn't figure out _who_. Little did she know it was the same look she shot
Mulder several times a day, as if trying to decipher the workings of his
mind.

Tucking her legs underneath her, Scully curled up at the other end of her
couch. The dog, sitting between them, scootched closer to her. But not
without first sniffing Mulder _very_ thoroughly.

"Now that you're here, you can help me figure out names for him, or rather,
it. I can't keep calling him 'Hey You'." Pointing the remote at the
television set, she clicked it on.  "I thought about Skinner, but he's too
hairy for that.  What about..."

"Quiet, Scully, the game's starting.  It was too much to hope that the Red
Sox might make it to the World Series.  I'll have to make do with the
Indians. This is gonna be a great game!"

Seven innings later....

Scully looked over at her partner, fast asleep on the couch.  Not only had
Mulder spent several innings alternately insulting her dog with ludicrous
names (Fifi and BaitBreath had been his leading candidates), but the game was
an utter disaster. He'd dozed off before the game was even over.  What was
that the line the sportswriters always used? Something about bad baseball
being duller than watching grass grow? This game had been worse than watching
dead grass just lie there, looking brown.

rrrrrrrr.  Mrrrrrrrr.  The small dog curled up by Mulder butted its head
under Mulder's hand, begging for attention.  *Traitor,* Dana thought.  *But
you've certainly got good taste.*

The dozing man absently began stroking the animal.  Inspired by his success,
"Hey You" crawled up on Mulder's lap, arching up towards his face. With a
little whine, it snuggled against his chest, parking his head in the exposed
arch of Mulder's neck.

*Yup.  Definitely good taste.*

end.