OK, repeat after me. Mulder, Scully, and the X-Files belong to Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, 10-13 productions, and anyone else who is legally making money off of them. I'm not making a dime, legal or otherwise. The characters are lovingly borrowed with the utmost respect for their creators and the actor and actress who portray them. And no, the bird is not MacSpooky's Krycek/Phoebe found in the Generations series. This is based on an absolutely true story. If you want the real details, e-mail me. Much thanks go to Juliettt and her Troupe - take a bow, gang! Please send all replies to JKerper217@aol.com. "Be Careful What You Wish For" by Jodi Kerper. Draft Completed 11/15/95 ------------------------- He was going to murder the bird. It was the only solution, Mulder thought, as he stood at the entrance to his apartment, head slumped down on the door. He was afraid to go into his own home. It was going to have to stop. Inserting the key into the lock, he could hear the nonstop twittering, even through the door. Would the thing _never_ shut up? He tried leaving it alone in a room, covering the cage with a dark cloth - nothing worked. It wouldn't stop chirping. Night and day. Rain or shine. It had even woken him up from the first decent night's sleep he'd had in ages. No nightmares of Samantha or Scully or clones or flaming boxcars, just blissful, deep, dark, sleep. Until the bird had let out a squawk to wake the dead. Mulder stripped of his sweat-soaked t-shirt. He'd been able to get a good 3 miles in this morning, before the rain started. He had a Knicks game to look forward to on the tube tonight, and an entire afternoon to spend on-line before that. He even had leftover Domino's in the refrigerator from last night's dinner with Scully. Ah, breakfast of champions. He and Scully had just finished up three wild goose chases back-to-back, and there was no new case waiting for them. In a day or so he'd start getting restless, looking to catch a new X-file. But for today, at least, he was going to relax and enjoy the vacation. He might even lend VC a hand and do that profile they'd been begging him for. It never hurt to keep his hand in - he was a good profiler, and he knew it. And it was a real pleasure to remind those bozos in VC of that fact. tweetweetweetweetweetweetweetweetwee "Yeah, yeah, I know. You're hungry.. So am I, but you don't hear me yammering about it." The bird had been a birthday present from Scully. "Fish are entirely too silent a companion, Mulder. I thought you might appreciate the company, " she'd proffered as she handed him the cage and its twittering occupant. "And he even likes sunflower seeds!" So he'd found himself with a new roommate (not the one I'd really like, he thought. Better get away from _that_ line of thinking, son.) Unfortunately, this roommate didn't shut up, would fly out of his cage and eat all of Mulder's sunflower seeds, and had an unnatural fascination for his fish. The last time the bird had gotten loose he'd found it pecking at the tank, causing his fish to swim madly in circles for the next hour, and refusing to eat for the next day. Either Mulder was going to need therapy, his fish would, or the parrot. Since Mulder's health plan would rebel at the thought of yet another doctor bill to pay, and he didn't know of any fish psychiatrists - cat and dog shrinks yes, fish shrinks, no - that left the bird. And the thought of being told that HE was the cause of the bird's poor behavior was too much to bear. It would have to be murder. If only Scully would understand.... It was stuffy in the apartment. The humid air mass had hung over the city for days, before deigning to answer the prayers of its residents. Thankfully, the rain that had started at the end of his run had been accompanied by a pleasant drop in temperature. Mulder threw open the window to take advantage of the respite, and wandered over to his shower. ------- His phone was ringing. Snagging a towel from the hook on the back of the bathroom door, he wrapped it around his waist as he dashed for the phone. "Hi, Scully." He sat down at his desk, turning on the computer. "How did you know it was me? Forget I asked, Mulder. You'd think I would know better by now. I'm just calling to see if we're still on for tonight - paperwork at 6, followed by the game? I want you to know I agreed to watch basketball with you only under duress. I'm still black and blue from being elbowed by you during last week's game. This time, I demand a decent dinner beforehand. Takeout Chinese, and you're buying." "I placed the order last night. Moo-shoo pork, Grandfather chicken, and wor bar soup. Great minds, Scully." Mulder smiled. She knew he loved Chinese food. A perfect evening - Chinese food, the Knicks, and Scully. If only he could do something about paperwork. And the bird. Can't forget about the bird. "How's Tweetie?" Scully asked. Sometimes the need to mess with their minds... "I killed him, Scully. I warned you about this last week. Snapped his scrawny little bird neck in half. What can I say, he went after my fish.." "Funny, Mulder, very funny. Has it occurred to you that your level of humor has been declining lately? Nice try, but no sale. You'd never kill that bird. You know what I'd do to you." "Promises, promises. Would you harm a defenseless man? Here I am, sitting unarmed and ungarbed, not hurting a fly - birds don't count. Come over early and give it your best shot. Heck, I'll even throw in an order of egg rolls." "Deal. And that bird better be alive when I get there, or else you'll really find out how good a shot I am. Last time I aimed for your shoulder. I have my sights considerably _lower_ this time." No time to log on. The last time Scully had come over and found Mulder searching out the latest and greatest .gifs on the newsgroups, he'd been sore for a week. It really was amazing what they could do with scanners and image manipulation software. But did anyone believe that the red-headed tv actress and the woman in that explicit .gif were the same person? Had to be an X-file. He threw on some clothes and started tidying up the place. Not only had he learned to trust someone after he'd started working with Scully, he even learned to appreciate a minimum level of tidiness around the place. Of course, he'd never tell Scully. Oh no, it would give her too much satisfaction. He loved to watch her complain about his messy desk. Arguing with her was a pure pleasure, sometimes. He appreciated intelligence and wit, and Scully had both in ample measure. There weren't too many women (or men) who would stand up to him, let alone put up with him. "Damn, forgot to feed the bird." Better hurry, before he started eyeing the fish again. I might even clean his cage. Wouldn't hurt to impress Scully - maybe he could con her into filling out the equipment loss expense forms this round. Walking over to the cage, he brought with him some fresh newspaper for the bottom of the pile. The bird did have some benefits - he reduced the pile of newspaper he had to lug to the recycling bin down the hall each week. Mulder opened the cage door, only to be confronted by a very small, rather stiff corpse lying feet up on the floor of the cage, and a cool breeze blowing from the window he had opened earlier. Scully WAS going to kill him. There was a rap at the door. "It's me, Mulder." *Gulp* ----- The Pet Store Saga: "Careful What You Wish For" "You Might Get It" "Or You Might Not"