A Certifiable Murphy's Law Day 
By Xenith 
xenitha@yahoo.com 


Disclaimer: The X-files belong to Chris Carter and
1013 Productions, not me. I'm only borrowing the characters
for now.  I'll put them back when I'm done.
Rating: G, darn it!
Category: HS
Keywords:  Scullytorture, Scullyangst, Humor 
Spoilers: None
Archive: Sure!  Just tell me!
Feedback: Love it! Love it!
E-Mail address: xenitha@yahoo.com
Discussion List:  Yes!!! Yes!!!
Summary: Scully gets a chain letter and suffers the
consequences. Pure fluff, nobody dies, nobody hurt.
Just somebody a little pissed.



It all began with a chain letter.  You know the
kind..."Send this to fifty of your friends or suffer
terrible disaster."  When it came through my e-mail, I
showed it to Mulder, before I scornfully deleted it.

"You mean you aren't going to send it on to fifty of
your friends?" he asked innocently as he popped a
sunflower seed into his mouth.

"Of course not, Mulder. If I did a thing like that,
they wouldn't be my friends for long, would they? 
Besides, I don't really believe that little Elbert
James in his hospital in Manchester really cares
whether people send him get well e-mails."

"Okay, if you're cursed it's your problem then," he
remarked absently, crunching another sunflower seed
and going back to his reading.

That was yesterday.

I went through four, count 'em four pairs of nylons
this morning before I gave up and wore slacks.   Then
there was the unfortunate accident with the curling
iron. I trimmed the charred hair away, but it'll take
a hair stylist to even it out again.  The blowdryer
stopped working and I ran of hair gel.

Then I broke a zipper on the pantsuit getting out of
the car at the Hoover Building.

I was late for the meeting with Skinner. I am *never*
late.  My partner, Fox 'let's be casual about time'
Mulder is late for meetings.  When I arrived, he was
ready to go, neatly dressed in black Armani suit with
tasteful red tie, folder tucked under his arm.

I could see him cringe when he saw me.  He started to
say something, thought better of it, then nodded and
opened the door for me. I've got to say, Mulder has a
fine sense of self-preservation.

In Skinner's office, I perched on my chair, trying not
to dislodge the safety pin holding my pants together.
Skinner frowned in my direction.

"Agent Scully, do you have the notes on the Miller
case?"

The notes.  

Oh My God. I left my notes on the roof of my car when
I stopped for gas and forgot it when I drove away.  I
blanched and tried to come up with some excuse for my
incredibly irresponsible actions.  Mulder took one
look at me and saved me.

"I have them here," he said smoothly.  "What did you
need to know?"

As Mulder and Skinner discussed minutiae of our latest
crop circle case, I winced as, you guessed it,  the
safety pin gave way and my zipper parted. Damn.
Damn.Damn.

"Scully?  Scully, meeting's over. You ready to go back
to the office?" Mulder was standing and looking down
at me with an expression of concern.

"Uh...yeah.  Yeah, let's go," I said hurriedly and
clutched at the waistband of my pants through the
pocket of my suitcoat. I scurried out ahead of Mulder
and was in the elevator waiting for him shortly.

He must have seen the look of grim determination on my
face, because he sounded nervous.  "Scully, is there
something wrong?"

"Why should there be anything wrong?" I glared up at
him. Have I said yet that the fact that Mulder is so
much taller than I am irks me no end? Well, it does. I
get a crick in my neck trying to hold a conversation
with him.

"Um..just asking," he moved out of the elevator ahead
of me and into the office.  Dammit, he didn't have to
act that frightened of me. So I'm in a bad, foul,
awful, rotten mood.  How is that frightening?

I went to my work area  (still don't have a desk) and
grabbed my purse, then excused myself to go to the
ladies room.  Once there, I discovered the inevitable.
I had started my period and the zipper was definitely
broken. 

Twenty minutes later, two pamprin, one tampax and
having stitched myself into my slacks I was ready to
start again. Bright. Smiley. Going to have a GREAT
day, Dana....

Damn him and that chain letter!


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

I don't understand women.  I mean, I don't think I do.
 At any rate, some days Dana Scully completely puzzles
me. She's normally straight forward, y'know, logical.

And then there's today.

She got to Skinner's meeting looking like she hadn't
slept. Her hair was kind of tousled, like she hadn't
really done anything to it.  Nothing wrong with that,
she's an attractive woman anyway.  She looks good in
anything.

We went to lunch at the deli on the corner and Scully
was upset that the waiter misunderstood her order and,
instead of leaving off the mayo, gobbed 'double mayo'
on her sandwich.  I generously offered to eat the
sandwich for her, but she just glared at me and took a
bite. And mustard squirted down the front of her
blouse.

Now how was that my fault?  She seems to believe that
I caused this somehow.  She kept looking at my new
suit resentfully.  I only wore it because she LIKES me
in Armani.

And then, I mistakenly (oh, so mistakenly) suggested
that since she's having a Certifiable Murphy's Law
Day, she should call it a day and go home.

"A Certifiable...what?" she was too curious to be
irritable.

"A Certifiable Murphy's Law Day.  That's my definition
for a day in which absolutely, positively anything
that can go wrong does, and at the worst possible
moment.  On those days the entire universe is against
you.  It sure sounds to me like you're having one of
those, Scully. I'd go home if I were you."

"There's no such thing as Murphy's law. These are just
coincidences. You make is sound as if...as if I were
cursed," she glared at me.

"Hey, you don't think it's that chain..." 

"No. Mulder. It. Is. Not. That. Chain. Letter." Boy
she sure can enunuciate when she tries. "There is no
scientific basis for Murphy's law."

"Um, actually Scully, a couple years ago Mathematics
Magazine proved the existence of Murphy's law and did
a nice writeup on why you always have mismatched socks
in your sock drawer and why your checkout line is
statistically always the slowest..Scully, put the gun
down. Really, calm down...Scully?"

She was holding her weapon, not pointing it really,
just studying it closely as though admiring the grip,
the finish....

"Mulder, if you say one more word about luck I won't
be answerable for my actions," she said calmly, just
as I heard a 'popping' sound.

Her linen slacks gently parted and slithered down her
legs, landing in a navy puddle at her ankles. Navy
bikini panties. Nice.  Good legs, too.

Scully just blinked at me, then looked down at the
pile of fabric on the floor.  Then she calmly put the
gun down, pulled up her slacks, sat down at her
computer and opened the recycle bin on the computer
desktop.

"Mulder, this chain letter...what's the e-mail address
for the Lone Gunmen?"