I finally had it. The key to the lock, the Holy Grail, the super-colossal amazing Answer To All Questions Previously Asked But Heretofore Never Given An Appropriate Response For.
All the silly disks, ancient texts, DNA results, strange alien craft the size of Cleveland that don't stay buried in sand easily, test-tube experiments, stupid aliens that used to be important but aren't anymore, computer keystrokes, code-breaking theorists, and ancient Navajo secrets *paled* in comparison to what I had.
So I decided to gloat.
The phone jingled at least four times. "Mulder."
"Heyyyyy there," I hissed, my phone voice at full-blown evil whisper.
"Huh? Who is this? Hello?"
Okay, I don't often call Mulder to chat, but can anyone not recognize these sultry, dulcet tones when I'm being evil and call to gloat? Jeez.
"What check?!" Mulder yelled back. "I'm sure I paid it!"
It was then I remembered the cherry bomb incident in the FBI men's basement toilet the other day. When I'm not out being stealthy and covert and killing people for money, I happen to enjoy a chuckle or two at Mulder's expense by way of practical jokes. It's low of me I know, but a whoopee cushion under my Aunt Parasha's butt at Easter each year got me every time. Uncle Boris was a pip.
Besides, it's all in fun, and Charlie the FBI security guard lets me in whenever I want when I tell him it's to "Fuck with Fox." I throw him some good Russkie vodka from time to time and I have no problem visiting the Skin-Man or bothering Scully. This time it was to chuck a few cherry bombs into the crappers when it was time for Mulder's post-coffee bathroom visit.
"It's *Krycek*," I yell at Mulder.
"Krycek," he growls. "What do you want?"
"I called to gloat," I answer. Not about the cherry bombs, though that was pretty damn funny.
"No, *gloat*, Mulder, I called to rub it in."
"Rub what in?"
"The enormity of what I hold in my hands right now," I say.
"You're holding something enormous?"
"Yeah, would you pay attention?" That cherry bomb must have made quite a little bang in the confines of the shoddily-constructed tiled toilet. "It's neat."
"You're rubbing meat?" he asks.
"No, you idiot, I said 'It's neat'."
"Oh," he answers, obviously not hearing me again.
"I wanted to tell you I now have all the answers. You and Scully can give it up."
"We already have," he says back.
That throws me a bit. "You have? Since when?"
"Couple of months ago. It was good. Quick, but good."
Now I'm confused. "What was quick? You giving up?"
"Yeah, it was a quick fuck. She was horny."
What??!! "You mean...you and she..." I'm a little surprised here.
"Yeah, it was free."
"What was free?" I ask.
"What kind of girl do you think she is, Krycek? She didn't charge me!"
"Um, Mulder...I'm glad you and Scully...uh, consumated, or whatever, but I'm calling for another reason."
"Well, yeah, I *always* masturbated..."
"I didn't say 'masturbated'!" I yell. Good Lord, what did I get myself into ?
"Y'know, Alex, it's perfectly healthy..."
"I'm sure it is, but that's not why I called!"
I breathe, glad he finally heard me. "No, I wanted to tell you about this huge discovery I made."
"Yes," I reply, "and it's going to change your life."
He grows quiet for a moment and I think to ask if he's still there.
"You think so?" he asks finally.
"Yeah, and I bet you can't guess what it is," I say with all the gloat I can muster.
"Right, Mulder, right!" I sigh. This gloating thing is difficult with a guy who's had his ears ringing for two days.
"It is?" he asks.
"Well, why are you telling me?" he asks.
"Telling you what?"
"I don't know!!" Mulder yells. "You called me!"
"Would you shut up for a second and *listen*?? What I hold in my hands is the key to all the undiscovered aspects of your life, Mulder. It's the great riddle solved to what has driven you all these years. I can use it against you...I know what makes you tick."
"Um..." he mumbles.
"Don't you want to know?" I ask again.
"What I have in my hand, dumb ass!"
"I haven't done that in a while," he says, his voice low.
"Done what?" I ask, caught off guard. Is he playing me here? Perhaps he's smarter than I thought...
"Y'know," he answers, and giggles.
"No, what are you talking about?"
"You were talking about my ass," he says.
"I *called* you a dumb ass, I wasn't talking about it. This is annoying. You're half deaf...I don't know why I called you anyway."
"You can come here then," he whispers.
"For the lay."
"You just said..."
"No I didn't!!! I said 'anyway'!!!" I yell.
"What about your meat in your hand then?"
"What you've been holding," he snickers. "That's why you called you said."
"I'm holding *something*, not my meat! I called to gloat!" I yell again.
"Really, we can leave the goat out of it...unless you're into that sort of thing..."
"Mulder, you're fucking sick!"
"You have to come *here* for that. It's not as much fun over the phone."
"What's not?" I ask.
"Sucking your dick."
"Oh my God," I mumble.
"Sure, I'd like wine. That's sweet."
I toss the Chilmark High year book with the picture of Mulder before his sex change across the room.
"I'll be right there..."