Accueil > BLAGUES-L > Archives 1996 >

Date: Tue, 24 Dec 1996 03:41:07 -0500 (EST)
From: Kertasnikir
Subject: BLAGUES-L: X-mas files

Date: Sat, 21 Dec 1996 20:51:14 -0400 
From: Martine Gingras

Vraiment, celle-ci est excellente. Une parodie des x-files qu'une copine
vient de me faire parvenir...

57 Elm Street
Bethlehem, PA
11:51 P.M., December 24th

 - We're too late! It's already been here.

 - Mulder, I hope you know what you're doing.

 - Look, Scully, just like the other homes:  Douglas fir, truncated,
mounted, transformed into a shrine; halls decked with boughs of holly;
stockings hung by the chimney, with care.

 - You really think someone's been here?

 - Someone or some THING.

 - Mulder, over here - it's a fruitcake.

 - Don't touch it!  Those things can be lethal.

 - It's O.K. There's a note attached: "Gonna find out who's naughty and

 - It's judging them, Scully.  It's making a list.

 - Who?  What are you talking about?

 - Ancient mythology tells of an obese humanoid entity who could travel
  at great speed in a craft powered by antlered servants.  Once each year,
  near the winter solstice, this creature is said to descend from the
  heavens to reward its followers and punish disbelievers with jagged
  chunks of anthracite. 

 - But that's legend, Mulder -- a story told by parents to frighten
  children. Surely you don't believe it?

 - Something was here tonight, Scully.  Check out the bite marks on this
  gingerbread man.  Whatever tore through this plate of cookies was
  massive -- and in a hurry.

 - It left crumbs everywhere.  And look, Mulder, this milk glass has been
completely drained. 

 - It gorged itself, Scully.  It fed without remorse.

 - But why would they leave it milk and cookies?

 - Appeasement.  Tonight is the Eve, and nothing can stop its wilding.

 - But if this thing does exist, how did it get in?  The doors and
  windows were locked.  There's no sign of forced entry. 

 - Unless I miss my guess, it came through the fireplace.

 - Wait a minute, Mulder.  If you're saying some huge creature landed on
  the roof and came down this chimney, you're crazy.  The flue is barely
  six inches wide.  Nothing could get down there. 

 - But what if it could alter its shape, move in all directions at once?

 - You mean, like a bowl full of jelly?

 - Exactly.  Scully, I've never told anyone this, but when I was a child
  my home was visited.  I saw the creature.  It had long white strips of
  fur surrounding its ruddy, misshapen head.  Its bloated torso was red
  and white.  I'll never forget the horror.  I turned away, and when I
  looked back it had somehow taken on the facial features of my father. 

 - Impossible.

 - I know what I saw.  And that night it read my mind.  It brought me a
  Mr.  Potato Head, Scully.  IT KNEW THAT I WANTED A MR. POTATO HEAD!

 - I'm sorry, Mulder, but you're asking me to disregard the laws of
  physics. You want me to believe in some supernatural being who soars
  across the skies and brings gifts to good little girls and boys.  Listen
  to what you're saying. Do you understand the repercussions?  If this
  gets out, they'll close the X-files.

 - Scully, listen to me: It knows when you're sleeping. It knows when
  you're awake.

 - But we have no proof.

 - Last year, on this exact date, SETI radio telescopes detected bogeys
  in the airspace over twenty-seven states.  The White House ordered a
  Condition Red.

 - But that was a meteor shower.

 - Officially. Two days ago, eight prized Scandinavian reindeer vanished
  from the National Zoo, in Washington, D.C. Nobody - not even the
  zookeeper - was told about it. The government doesn't want people to
  know about Project Kringle. They fear that if this thing is proved to
  exist the public will stop spending half its annual income in a holiday
  shopping frenzy. Retail markets will collapse. Scully, they cannot let
  the world believe this creature lives. There's too much at stake.
  They'll do whatever it takes to insure another silent night. 

   - Mulder, I --

   - Sh-h-h.  Do you hear what I hear?

   - On the roof.  It sounds like . . .  a clatter.

   - The truth is up there.  Let's see what's the matter.

  * Adapted from Shouts & Murmurs, "The Xmas Files," by Frank Cammuso and
  Hart Seely, (c) The New Yorker, December 16, 1996.

Accueil > BLAGUES-L > Archives 1996 >