AUTHOR'S NOTE (Or, rather, SHAMELESS PLUG): In my spare time, I play Scully
in some downloadable XF video spoofs. Check them out at
http://loredata.simplenet.com/6m2/ (And if you're a secret DOCTOR WHO fan,
please visit the official site for the latest Federation fan video:
http://loredata.simplenet.com/traumaturge/ )

**************************************************************

Mulder Got Run Over by a Reindeer (for lack of a better title)
by Jennifer Adams Kelley

SOMEWHERE IN RURAL MARYLAND
CHRISTMAS DAY
11:18 A.M.

A car door slammed shut. Mulder looked up from his examination of the crime
scene,
took in his partner's expression, and involuntarily swallowed. Scully
stormed past the
sheriff's men, flashing her badge for quick passage as she stomped across
the snow for
the "do not cross" tape squaring off the middle of the front yard. She
paused just outside
the cordon, glaring at Mulder with arms folded across the chest and left
foot (in an
already-ruined black suede pump) tapping impatiently. "This had better be
good."

"I wouldn't have interrupted your Christmas otherwise." He motioned her into
the
cordon, pointing at the body of an old woman laying facedown.

Scully fished a pair of latex gloves out of her coat pocket, snapped them
on, and squatted
down to examine the corpse. She paid particular attention to the forehead
and back. After
a few minutes, she stood back up. "She's been dead for at least twelve
hours, Mulder.
Why hasn't she been removed to the local coroner's office?"

Mulder shrugged. "The coroner's apparently had too much Christmas cheer, and
the
sheriff figured she'd keep as well here as in the freezer there. What do you
think killed
her?"

"Judging from the marks on her forehead and back, I'd say she was attacked
by some
kind of wild animal."

"In Maryland?"

"Well, it's *rural* Maryland.... But I suppose you have a different theory,
otherwise you'd
be back home watching football."

"Santa."

"Excuse me?"

"Mrs. Maybelline Drugger there was run over by a reindeer."

"Are reindeer native to the area?"

"Let me rephrase this. She was run over by Comet. Or Cupid. Or Donner. Or
Blitzen.
You get the idea."

Scully glared at him for almost a full minute before saying, "I'm missing
out on silver
fizzes because of *this*?"

"Hey, I'm just quoting what the local authorities said."

"Are you telling me that *they* think Santa's involved?"

"I think they're quoting the grandson. Come on, let's get the story from the
horse's
mouth." Mulder guided her back under the tape and up to the front entrance.
He knocked
on the door, then added, "Silver fizzes, Scully? Isn't that like gin and egg
whites?"

"Christmas tradition."

"And you're complaining you were rescued from that?"

The door opened. An acne-encrusted young man of perhaps 20 stood on the
other side,
dressed in black jeans and a black sweatshirt. "Yeah?"

Mulder flashed his badge. "I'm Agent Mulder, this is Agent Scully, we're
with the FBI.
You're Chuckie Drugger?"

"That's right. Wow! The FBI! If you can't catch that low-down,
cookie-eating, milk-
drinking son of a bitch who killed Grandma, then nobody can. Come on in." He
led the
agents inside.

Men filled the living room, gathered around the small television intent on
the football
game. In a corner, an old man played cards with a younger relative, one eye
on the game
and one hand on a stein. Everyone wore black, but seemed otherwise
unaffected by the
death. Chuckie waved a hand toward the old man. "Grandpa's taking it so
well, just
watching football, and drinking beer, and playing cards with Cousin Mel just
like nothing
happened."

The old man noticed the new arrivals and toasted them with his stein. "Merry
Christmas!"

Scully raised an eyebrow, then asked Chuckie, "Would you mind retelling what
you think
happened last night?"

"No problem. I know how you FBI types have to double-check everything the
local
police report. I see it on the tv all the time. Anyway, Grandma had been
drinking too
much eggnog last night. She realized that she left her medication back
home-she lives,
er, lived right next door to us-and decided to go get it. Well, it had
snowed pretty hard
and she was pretty plastered, so we begged her not to go. But she didn't
listen to us.
"We didn't notice at first she hadn't come back. In fact, it wasn't `til
Grandpa decided he
had too much of Cousin Sam's liberal leanings and went lookin' for her that
we realized
she wasn't around. We went outside and, well, we found her just like she is
now."

"Did you hear or see anything suspicious?" Scully asked dutifully.

"Hell no, we were too busy partying! But Santa did it. I know it."

"Then what makes you think Santa is involved?"

Chuckie looked surprised. "Well, duh! She's got hoofprints on her forehead
and
incriminating claw marks on her back! You *sure* you're with the FBI?"

Mulder poorly suppressed a snort of amusement, which earned him another
glare. He told
Chuckie, "She's just pissed she's missing Christmas dinner right now."

"Oh, I'm sure you could stay and eat with us, ma'am." He waived a hand to a
heavily
laden dining room table tucked in an alcove. A middle-aged lady brought out
a
wonderful-smelling goose. As she placed it on the table, she caught sight of
something
that sent her into a fresh crying jag. She ran back into the kitchen,
bawling into her lace
apron.

"What was that about?" Mulder wondered.

"Ma's taking it the worst," Chuckie replied.

"But what set her off?"

"The candles."

Mulder took a good look at the blue and silver tapers. "What? Your
grandmother was a
chain smoker or something?"

Chuckie shook his head. "They match the hair in Grandma's wig."

"I think we've heard enough," Scully said.

"Scully-"

"We can't continue the investigation until I complete the autopsy. And with
the local
coroner unavailable, I can't even start it." She started out of the house,
Mulder following
reluctantly. "We'll keep you advised," she added as she pushed the door
open.

Chuckie called from the doorway, "You'd better watch out for yourself,
ma'am. They
should never give a license to a man who drives a sleigh and plays with
elves!"

Scully said nothing; Mulder could tell by the straightening of her shoulders
that he was
going to be in deep doo-doo. His partner remained silent until she reached
her car. As she
unlocked the door, she finally looked up at him. "Next Christmas--no, next
December--
I am going to turn off my cell phone and screen all my calls. I am also
going to put your
email addresses in my killfile. I've had enough holidays ruined by you."

"It's a legitimate x-file, Scully!"

"And I'm the tooth fairy."

"That explains why you're so small."

"I'm leaving now. And with any luck I will get back to my mother's in time
to have the
last silver fizz. And if I don't get a silver fizz, you will find yourself
in my autopsy bay
tomorrow morning --and I won't bother to kill you first!" She slid into the
driver's seat,
slammed the door shut, and started the engine. Mulder knocked on the window;
Scully
rolled her eyes and rolled it down. "What?"

"Good thing I didn't mention the three chipmunks wanting the hulahoop, huh?"

THE END