"Mulder and the Stinking, Rotten, Terrible,
Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day"

By: CAC
AKA The Stinker

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

FORWARD
*****************************

Well for something a little different.  I decided to go for a lighter
touch this time and at the same time get some literary revenge for some of
those awful days that pop up every now and then.  You know those days
where nothing seems to go right, the ones where you just want to crawl
under the bed and hide but can't because with your luck the dust bunnies
lurking there would probably attack you.  Well, poor Mulder....he got all
of my days rolled into one.  Hey, don't think, nah....that couldn't really
happen because the bit about the sunglasses came from personal experience.
I'd like to thank Judith Viorst for inspiring the above title....it bears
a certain resemblance to a title from one of her stories.  Sorry I had to
put the poor guy through so much but once I got started it was difficult
to stop.  Have fun.

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

Scully safaried through the jungle of clutter in Mulder's apartment,
picking up the empty Chinese food containers and the pizza box and
dropping them in the trash, on her way to the bedroom.

"Will you get the lead out, Mulder," she yelled.  "It's Monday...We have
an appointment and we're gonna be late!"

The strains of a Scottish drinking song, "Bonnie Jean" mercifully subsided
along with the running water as the sound of the shower door opening
filtered into the other room.

"Well if you'd have gotten me up at the same time you got up, I'd be done
already," he said testily.

"You needed the extra rest and how was I supposed to know it would take
you an hour to get dressed?" she commented as she sat on the bed.

"OK, Alright.....So I'm not a "morning person", he replied apologetically.

He reached for his razor but it wasn't in its usual spot, so he checked
the floor and under the sink...no razor.  Where in the hell could it be,
he wondered in puzzlement, as he stepped back from the mirror and
methodically searched the room without success.  Here he was, supposedly a
crack, ace, number one investigator and he couldn't even locate his own
goddamn razor.  Mulder, he thought, you're pathetic.....He made a face in
the mirror and raised his middle finger in an upward motion.  Take that,
he thought to the universe in general.  Oh well.  In typical male
tradition, he figured, when in doubt ask a woman...they always seem to be
able to find everything.

"Hey Scully," he called out patiently, "when you were in here earlier, did
you happen to see a razor just sort of lying around?"

She looked up from the bed with a thoughtful expression and replied. 
"It's on the ledge on top of the shower door."  She paused for a moment,
thinking there was something else she wanted to say but couldn't quite
remember what.

He reached up on top of the ledge and sure enough, there it was.  

"How in the hell did it get up there," he mumble to himself as he put the
blade to his face."

It finally dawned on her what she had wanted to tell him...."Oh, I used it
to shave my legs."

"Ow....Shit," he growled as the blood welled up on his cheek.  "Thanks a
lot for that timely bit of *useful* information."  No, he could tell this
was not going to be one of his better days.

Scully's cellular phone began to ring so she picked it up and quickly
answered in a curt, professional tone.

"Scully."

"Mother?", she asked, her tone softening.  "Yes, I know about the family
dinner, Sunday...OK, I'll be there...Mom, will you please stop trying to
fix me up with people.  I'm doing just fine on my own."  She got up and
wandered into the living room.  "I'm not all *alone*....don't worry about
me, I'm fine...really....Yes, ok.....Alright, if it makes you happy, I am
sort of seeing somebody.....we work together.  Oh come on....no, he's
*not* another "Jack".  Yes, we're close....very close.....extremely, very
close.....MOM!  I'm wearing the man's silk boxers---Is that close enough
for you?", she blurted out over the phone in frustration.  Oh, good God,
she thought and put her hand to her head.  "What do you mean what kind of
man wears "silk" boxers?"...One who shows appreciation...."I" bought
them.....Fox Mulder........Mother, his *name* is Fox....I don't *know*
what kind of parent would name a kid "Fox".  Dana stalked back into the
bedroom just as Mulder stepped out of the bathroom draped in a towel and
brushing his teeth.  He questioned her with his eyes and she explained,
"It's my mother."

"Tll mom ello," he garbled with his mouth full of toothpaste.

"Mulder says hello.....I think."

She observed at him standing in the doorway and tried not to laugh for he
had not yet dried his hair and it landed in wild disarray all over his
head like a punk rocker...That along with the piece of toilet pater stuck
on the cut on his cheek made him appear so incongruous to his usual Ivy
League appearance that it was down right humorous.  She chuckled slightly,
"I don't know, mother, I'll ask him."

"She wants to know if you'd like to come to the family dinner on Sunday."

"Wodn ms it fr thwrd."

She stared at him in confusion, attempting to decipher what she thought
was possibly some new alien language and just told her mother, "Mulder
said he'd love to.  Gotta go...Love you too, Bye."  She clicked off the
phone and stood with her hands on her hips.  "Aren't you done yet?"

"Bitch, bitch, bitch", he mumbled softly as the corner of his mouth
crooked up into a lopsided grin.  "Oh great," he sighed, as he dropped the
lid to the toothpaste down the drain.  Now I'm gonna get blamed for
clogging up the plumbing....Screw it---He'd already taken too much time in
here and Dana was getting impatient.  Now if he could just find some clean
underwear.  He crossed the room, pulled out the drawer and
found....nothing.  Raising his head slowly, he gazed at her with pleading
eyes.  "Please tell me you didn't take the last pair."  She assumed a
guilty stance, opened her mouth, shrugged slightly and held up her hands,
palms out.  "wonderful," he sighed.  "It's ok,...it's alright...my fault."
He knew he should've done the laundry yesterday.  He reached over and
grabbed the slacks off the bed and put them on.  "Well, it wouldn't be the
first time," he grumbled.

*		*		*

Dana smiled in spite of herself, when he sat down on the bed, and his
right shoestring snapped off in his hand as he tried to tie it. 
Determined not to let things get the best of him, he walked over to the
closet, dug out an old pair of loafers and held them up in front of her. 
"Look, see, no laces."  He slipped the shoes on and walked cautiously to
the door.  "Let's get out of here," he whispered," before I hang myself
with my neck tie or something equally bizarre."

Dana laughed softly, "things have to get better...they can't get much
worse."

"Don't  say that," he said quietly, as he shut the door and the door
knocker fell on his toe.  "Shit, that hurt."

"I guess I stand corrected.  Can you walk?"

"Yeah, I can walk."  He looked skyward.  "What is this?  Let's dump on
Mulder day?"

They were walking down the hall when Mulder stopped suddenly.

"What's the matter?", she asked with concern.

"There's a big decision to be made here."   He looked to the left at the
stairs and then to the right at the elevator with sudden apprehension.

"What are you talking about?  What decision?"

"Elevator or stairs....at this point, either one could be deadly."

"Oh Mulder, get a grip and get in the blasted elevator."

The doors opened and she gave him a shove before he could protest.  The
elevator worked smoothly and took them quickly to the bottom floor.

"See, I told you everything would be alright....you're overreacting," she
assured him convincingly.

He studied the elevator with relief.  Perhaps he *was* taking this run of
bad luck too seriously, he pondered as he stepped onto the sidewalk and
into a wad of gum that  stretched for four feet before he realized it was
on his shoe.

"Goddamn it," he cursed as he tried to rub the gum off on the pavement.

"What now?"

He took his shoe off, along with the thin strand of gum dangling from it
and held it up for her to see.

"GUM," he answered with disdain as he tossed the footwear into the rear
floorboard and upon straightening, cracked his head on the door frame.

"Jesus Christ, Dana, this is getting damn ridiculous, he stammered,
squinting in pain....you better drive."

She had to admit that she was beginning to agree with him, got out and
slid into the drivers' seat.  Mulder went around to the passenger side and
carefully got into the car.  So far, so good.  He wasn't gonna do anything
so nothing could happen....right?  They drove down the street without
incident until Scully turned the corner and hit a pot hole.  The glove
compartment flew open and slammed down on his kneecap as the flashlight
flew out and landed between his legs.

"Umph...." he exhaled explosively and painfully and in a strained voice
gasped, "Dana....,I think I've just been disfigured for life."

"Good grief, Mulder, are you gonna be OK?"

"If I make it through this day....maybe."  What's this appointment about
anyway and why didn't you tell me about it?    I mean, it is my
section...Today's supposed to be "catch up" day to get the files ready for
review on Thursday.

"I didn't think you'd be interested," she remarked, truthfully.  Somehow,
we got funding for a new computer....I figured, don't look a gift
horse....so I didn't ask any questions.  I'm sure it's probably a mistake,
but by the time they discover it, hopefully it'll be too late.  Anyway the
company rep. is coming to our office at 9:00 AM to show us what's
available."

"I'm interested....I'm interested in finding out who in the hell gave *us*
funds.  Now *that's* an X-File.  Hey, just because I don't take notes on
the damn things, it doesn't mean that I don't appreciate their
usefulness...They're just so impersonal, that's all.

They pulled up into the parking lot and got out.  Mulder reached down to
get the shoes from the rear floorboard and noticed that the heel on one
shoe had come off when he'd thrown them.  He picked them up, met with
Scully, and strolled over to the building where he tossed what was left of
his shoes into the trash can by the door.

"You're not going in there without shoes?"

"You have ten minutes to make your appointment.  If you have any better
suggestions, I'd be more than willing to listen."

"No, I guess I don't."

"Thank you."

They walked in the door and crossed the hall to the elevator.

Oh this is just great.  Out of the corner of her eye she spotted agent
Carter pointing in their direction and sidling over to the elevator.  She
couldn't stand him because he made it his purpose in life to cause Mulder
grief whenever the opportunity arose....like now.

"Hey Mulder," Carter sneered sarcastically, looking down at Mulder's
shoeless feet.  "Is this some new fashion statement or are those nasty
"Reticulans" now into stealing shoes?"

"As a matter of fact, Carter, he replied, straight-faced, I've heard
reports that they seem to have developed a *ball* fetish and I gather that
you've already run into them, since yours are obviously "missing".  Have a
nice day...."  The elevator door opened and he and Scully got in.

She smiled secretly.  She couldn't explain the satisfaction it gave her
when he "got in a good one" on some of these morons.  She needn't have
worried about him, he could take care of himself when it came to these
idiots...I suppose he'd had a lot of practice. This had not been a very
good day for him so far and she'd noticed that he'd become a little surly
in the last hour or so.

While in the elevator, two women standing behind him were discussing of
all things, how to get rid of "panty lines."  He thought momentarily of
his own predicament and snickered, then turned to them and remarked, "if
you don't want the lines...don't wear underwear."  Their mouths fell open
and Scully jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

"Ow, what did you do that for?....he asked."

She gave him a dirty look and then a pouty smirk.  The doors opened and
she gratefully stepped out with him two steps behind.  As they raced down
the hall, he took a detour to the Men's room.

*		*		*


I'll be there in a couple of minutes," he called after her.  He strolled
in, did what was necessary, bent over to flush and watched in disbelief as
his sunglasses fell from his shirt pocket into the toilet and disappeared
through the plumbing in a swirl of blue water. After this shocker, he
approached the sink, slightly preoccupied, to wash his hands.  He turned
on the water, heard a rumble in the pipes and was totally sprayed with an
explosion of water before he could turn it off....Obviously air in the
lines, he thought absently.  Straightening slowly, he closed his eyes,
heaved a sigh of resigned acceptance and tried to think of what he could
have possibly done to deserve this kind of retribution.

He made his way down the hall, entered his office and slowly sat down at
his desk to silently watch Dana haggle computers with the rep.  Since she
was the one who would be using it the most, he figured she should get
whatever system fit her needs---plus the fact he was becoming more than a
little paranoid about doing or saying anything and didn't want to get
involved with anything remotely "important" today if he could help it.

About a half hour later, the meeting concluded and they bid farewell to,
who Scully referred to as, "the computer guy".  She ambled across the
office and sat on the corner of his desk.

"You feelin' OK, Mulder?"

"Yeah, I'm fine...just fine," he replied unconvincingly.

"You've been kinda subdued.  I don't think you said three words the whole
time the guy was here.

"I just didn't want to screw things up.  Listen, I need to get to a
department store.  Trying to demand respect in the workplace without the
benefit of underwear or shoes isn't easy and plays havoc with the "Bureau"
image and if that asshole Carter says *anything*, I'm gonna deck him on
the spot.  Can we go now?"

"My are we getting irritable or what?  Wanna borrow my Midol?"

"I'm sorry, it's just....it's just been a rough day," he said dejectedly
and lowered his eyes.

"It's Ok, forget it."  She patted his shoulder and tugged on his elbow.
"Let's go to the mall."

As they walked through the mall parking lot, Mulder squinted his eyes in
the sunlight. 

"Why don't you put on your sunglasses?", she asked curiously.

"I can't.  I flushed em'."  The last part of this statement was barely
audible.

"You what?"

"Flushed em'", he repeated with embarrassment.

She stared at him with that "are you pulling my leg" look, and joked,
"you're kidding, right?"
But a closer inspection of his face convinced her that he was serious.

"Why did you do that?"

"It was an accident.  Now there's probably some Ed Norton type running
amuck in DC wearing my expensive pair of designer sunglasses and getting
lost in the sewer cause he can't figure out why it's too dark to see. 
Gee, I hope he enjoys em'"

They entered the store and headed for the shoe department where the
salesgirl took one look at his feet and shook her head.  He misunderstood
and felt obliged to explain.  "The heel on my shoe came off and I didn't
have another pair with me."

"Oh, it's not that.....It's just that they're so big.  I don't know if I
have anything that'll fit you except maybe the display pair on the rack
behind you."

"If they're thirteens, I'll take them...I'm desperate."

Hallelujah, something actually went right.  They were a little snug, but
not uncomfortable, so he paid for them and headed for the Men's dept. ,
where he snatched a pair of boxers off the rack, put them on in the
dressing room and handed the cashier the price tag.

"Ring it up," he said with a sigh of relief, hell, he was starting to feel
human again.  The sales clerk eyed him suspiciously and asked, "where are
the shorts?"  He motioned for her to lean forward, then looked at her
straight in the eye and whispered confidentially, "Lady, I'm wearin'
em'.....OK, look, I forgot to do the laundry, give me a break, huh?"  The
woman nodded nervously and did as he asked.

This day may not end up so bad after all, he decided as he passed the
perfume counter.  Maybe he'd get Dana something while he was here.  On a
whim he picked up one of the sample bottles,  and turned it upside down to
put some on his finger.  Fate was not with him in this either for the
stopper fell out and the strongly scented contents spilled out  over his
sleeve.  Checking to make sure nobody was watching him, he gently returned
the bottle to the tray and beat a hasty retreat to the aisle and walked
away, collecting a number of stares from customers as he passed them.  He
reeked....

He located Dana in the jewelry department and she wrinkled up her nose as
he approached her.

"Jesus, Mulder, you smell better than I do, what *is* that?"

"I think they call it "Poison".  I was gonna get some for you but
it....ah.....didn't work out."

She bowed her head slightly.  "I don't wanna know.  It's a *little* strong
don't you think?"

"Yeah, I know.  I got propositioned twice on the way over here."

She raised her head and pursed her lips.  "Were they pretty?"

He chuckled lightly and replied, Actually no, I don't think "Larry" and
"Bob" were exactly my *type*.  Can we get out of here.....I think they're
following me."  Say is there anyway I can get this stuff off?  It's making
my eyes water and I can't breathe."

*		*		*


"I don't think so, it'll wear off...eventually.  Look, It's past time for
lunch and I'm hungry, so let's go to the food court and grab something to
eat."

She sat down at the table with her salad and iced tea and watched in
amazement as Mulder made a second trip to the counter to get the rest of
his order.  She counted two hamburgers, two large fries, a chocolate
milkshake, apple pie, and an ice tea.  God, that man could eat and never
gain an ounce.  Where does he put it all?  She grinned...maybe it all went
to his feet.

He ate the first hamburger in five bites and the second one in four, then
took the ketchup bottle and attempted to put some ketchup on the plate but
it wouldn't come out.  He tapped it lightly on the bottom with the palm o
his hand but the contents refused to budge.

"I don't think that's gonna work," she said knowingly and took the bottle
from his hand.  "You have to break the suction by sticking a knife in the
top like this."  She took the plastic knife, put it into the top of the
bottle and jiggled it around, then held the container at an angle and
smacked it firmly on the bottom.  The resulting ketchup projectile flew
across the table at maximum warp and impacted soundly on the front of
Mulder's shirt.  Dana's jaw dropped in surprise as she placed her hand
over her mouth and the only thing she could think of to say was "Oops."

Mulder rolled his eyes upward, put his hand to his temple and dropped his
head downward to study the big, red blob on his chest that had already
started to run in tiny red dribbles down the front of his shirt.  He
looked across the table at Dana and remarked calmly, "I don't think it's
Heinz," then took his finger, dipped it in the splotch, stuck it in his
mouth and confirmed his hypothesis.  "Nope, definitely not "Heinz", he
said sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders.  They both burst out laughing
at the absurdity of the situation as he accidentally knocked his drink in
his lap.  He leaned back in the chair, tilted his head slightly and
uttered in a low voice, "Oh Lord."  She thought it almost sounded like a
benediction and in studying the stained, wet, ruffled figure seated at the
table, her affection for him renewed and reasserted itself.  Surely anyone
else would be engaging in a justified case of the screaming meemies by now
but he just buttoned his jacket over the mess and walked with her serenely
to the exit.

He sneezed several times as they walked back to through the parking lot to
the car.  Mulder reached into his pocket, then into another pocket, then
looked through the car window and spied the keys lying on the front seat.

"Shit," he muttered in exasperation, as he placed his forehead on the
window.

"Mulder, unlock the door."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"The keys are in the car."

"Oh."

Two hours later, after the locksmith had let them into the car, they were
on their way again.  He had once more insisted that she drive and he rode
in the passenger side after making sure that the glove compartment was
locked and all object capable of causing bodily harm were removed.  They
had only driven two miles when a loud "pop" assaulted their ears and the
car served to a halt along the side of the road.

She got out with him as he proceeded to change the tire.  It wasn't that
he needed her help....but the way things had been going, she just wanted
to make certain that he didn't kill himself during the procedure. 
Everything went along smoothly and the tire was changed in a minimum
amount of time.  He threw the tire, jack, and lug wrench into the trunk
and closed it.

"Ready?", he asked.

She pointed to his shirt.  "I see that you're color coordinated."

"What?"

"The grease on your shirt matches the ink on your pocket."

He looked down, pulled out the broken pen and tossed it on the pavement.

"It figures.  Wonder if "GAIN" could get all *this* shit out?" 

They finally arrived at the DC Criminal Justice Building to pick up the
required case files.  Mulder was tempted to just stay in the car...he
should've followed his instincts. He opened the door and stepped out onto
the sidewalk, just as he heard and felt a sudden splat on his right
arm.....he made a quick and definite decision that pigeons *should* be an
endangered specie and in anger he slammed the car door.....on the fingers
of his left hand.

"Fuck!....."Dana, he wheezed,  unlock the door, please."

She ran around the car and it took her a couple of seconds to realize what
had happened. 

"My God, Mulder, don't move," she instructed as she unlocked, opened the
door and examined his hand."

"Where would I go?", he gasped, eyes wrinkled with pain.

She wrapped his hand with the gauze from the first aid kit and took him to
the Emergency Room, where he received ten stitches and three splints.

"At least it's not your shooting hand," she said trying to comfort him.  "
That's it...Tell ya what...the day is almost shot and so are you.  Why
don't we just take the files to my place and work on them there."

"You sure that you want me there?  I  mean the place could get hit by a
freak tidal wave or something."  

"I'll get out my life jacket.....Come on."  She gently ushered him out the
door and into the car.

They arrived at her apartment and she asked if he'd like to play a movie
to unwind, so he took out a tape, placed it into the machine, pushed play,
and watched the VCR devour the tape like a hungry wolf.  

"I give up", he said, looking up to the ceiling.  He crossed back over to
the couch and sat down ever so slowly for he came to the realization that
he couldn't identify a place on his body that didn't hurt .

Dana returned to the living room with two glasses of iced tea and sat down
beside him.

"I broke it," he said sullenly.

"Broke what?"

"The VCR."  He pointed to the pile of video tape lying on the floor.

She shook her head and picked up the newspaper.  "Oh look, Your horoscope
says:  Today is not your day, be very cautious if you must venture
outside.  Stay at home with someone special...travel could be dangerous...
everything you touch will turn to shit."

He gave her a side-long glance..."It doesn't say that."

"It should."

"Oh, now you tell me."

She laughed and laid her hand on his knee and he winced.  "That hurt?" she
asked.
"Yeah."  She lightly kissed it.

He wiggled his big toe.  

"That too?"

"Uh huh."

She ran her lips over his foot.  He held out his injured fingers and she
softly kissed them.

He pointed to his head and she gently brushed her lips over the bump.

"Here too," he said, as he turned his cheek to her. She kissed the  boo
boo.

His eyes suddenly took on a devilish glint as he remembered the
flashlight.  She read his thoughts, smiled ruefully and turned out the
lights.


FINE