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From: demeter@eskimo.com (Tony Anderson)
Subject: TALES OF CC&CO. "Brigade Blues" (one-shot-humor)
Message-ID: <D3BLzw.40o@eskimo.com>
Keywords: One-Shot humor
Organization: Eskimo North (206) For-Ever
Date: Wed, 1 Feb 1995 12:14:16 GMT
Lines: 240
Xref: netnews.upenn.edu alt.tv.x-files:38388 alt.tv.x-files.creative:2299

	With the current absence of "ADVENTURES OF CHRIS CARTER & CO." 
(it will be back in full swing soon!), I have drummed up this one-shot story
that fits nicely into the silly realm of our often unpredictable 
thread-tales. I may have to do these for a while until Andrea decides to 
return to the planet to continue our regularly scheduled programming. So, 
without any further ado, I now present.....
	
					ToNy Anderson
					(demeter@eskimo.com)
					February 1, 1995

		 A one-shot story from the classified
		  TALES OF CHRIS CARTER AND COMPANY
		 ______________________________________	
	
			 "Brigade Blues"

		       By ToNy Anderson (1995)

	     Based on the "ADVENTURES OF CHRIS CARTER & CO." 
	      By ToNy Anderson (demeter@eskimo.com) and
	       Andrea Pappas (aapappas@mailbox.syr.edu)


5:45 A.M.
_________
	
	The phone rang loud and drilled Gillian Anderson to life. She 
reached over to the bedside table to answer it.
	"H..hello?," she said, her voice scratchy and hoarse.
	"Gil, this is Chris, I need you to get down here right away!," he 
pleaded with her.
	"Chris, I just went to bed three hours ago," Gillian added.
	"Please, it's important, or I wouldn't ask," he told her.
	"Ok, ok, I'm on my way," she replied returning the phone to it's 
cradle. She rolled over on her back and stared up at the ceiling.
	
6:00 A.M.
_________
	
	At the production office, Chris Carter is finishing up a script 
for an X-FILES spin-off series. 
	"Hey Chris, who are you going to replace me and James with?," 
Glen asked, opening his Elvis lunchbox placed before him.
	"I don't know, haven't really thought about it yet," Chris said 
realising he had deleted his entire script.
	"Do you think the show will get cancelled without us?," Glen 
pondered as he unscrewed the lid to his posable Elvis thermos.
	"I hope not, I write the show to you know," Chris reminded him.
	Just then the door flew open and in walked Gillian, hair uncombed 
and sleep still with her.
	"This had better be good, Carter!," she said under her breath.
	"Oh, Gillian, good morning," Chris said smiling.
	"What is she doing here so early?," Glen asked, moving his Elvis 
pencil sharpener to make room for his Turkey sandwich.
 	"Yah, what *is* she doing here so early?," Gillian prodded.
	The phone rang, breaking the moment and saving Chris' ass.
	"Hello?," Chris said, still smiling profoundly.
	Gillian walked over to Glen and looked at the array spread out 
that made up his lunch. She watched him stuff a large corner of the 
sandwich into his mouth.
	"Glen?," she asked.
	"Yah hmmph?," he said mouth full.
	"I think you have a little fetish here pal. What is with all of 
this Elvis stuff?," she asked lifting an unbelievably large 
white-sequenced lamp off the desk.
	"Gillian, that was David on the phone," Chris said carrying a 
panicked tone in his voice.
	"Is *he* coming in early too?," she asked with a sting of irony.
	"No, he's in trouble. He said there is large Brigade of women 
outside his house, and he can't leave," Chris explained.
	"That happened to Elvis you know," Glen added then proceeded to 
consume the other half of his sandwich.
	"Thanks for sharing, Glen," Gillian added, giving him a dirty look.
	"I want to know why the hell you got me up so early, you said it 
was a read-through and we weren't due in til 7:30," Gillian said looking 
at her watch.
	"I need you to pick David up and get him here," Chris said with a 
sheepful expression.
	"Fine. Look, I'll be back soon," Gillian said and headed towards 
the door.

6:09 A.M.
_________
	
	David Duchovny sat on the floor of his single-story house in 
Vancouver, B.C. under the living room window. He poked his head up slowly 
and took another peek.
	Outside, all over his lawn stood the largest collection of women 
he had ever seen in his life. Some held posters with his picture on it, 
others were dressed in suits and ties. As far as he could tell, they 
surrounded the entire house.
	"What did I do?," he asked himself.
	The phone rang on the floor beside him.
	"Hello," he said in a whisper.
	"David, this is Gillian, Chris sent me out to bring you back. Is 
there a way into the back of the house?," Gillian asked, calling from her 
car-phone.
	"I'll check," David whispered back.
	David crawled along the floor towards the kitchen. He made his 
way to the back door. Slowly he lifted his head...
	Pressed against the window stood a woman panting feverishly, 
drool could be seen spilling out of the corner of her mouth.
	"DAVID!!!!!!!," she screamed piercingly. 
	It was like the call of the living dead. Soon, all the other 
members of the Brigade moved towards the back of the house upon hearing 
his name called out.
	David ducked down as quickly as he could.
	"David, what is it, is the back clear, I'm almost there," Gillian 
asked.
	"No! They're all over the house," David said exasperated.
	The Brigade began to chant in unison, creating one loud singular 
voice. "Speedos! Speedos! Speedos!"
	David's heart pounded. He had to act quick.
	A knock came at the front door as well as the back.
	Soon the knocks became pounds and he heard glass breaking.
	At that moment Gillian's red Saturn pulled into the driveway, 
running over two women who both resembled her co-star.
	"David, this is worse than I thought, it's eerie," she said as 
one of the women saw her in the car window and cocked her head to the 
side because Gillian didn't resemble David Duchovny.
	"They're breaking the windows, I have to find a way out," he pleaded.
	"Do you have a gun?," she asked as the women began to rock her 
car back and forth still shouting, "Speedos!"
	"No, besides, you know I wouldn't know how to hold it," David 
reminded her.
	"Look, go down into the basement, I'll try and make my way under 
the house," she told him.
	"Ok, but hurry!," he said as he could hear the 'Speedos" chant 
lingering in the house from the back door.
	Gillian had to think quick. What could she use to get past these 
Duchovny worshipers and find a way under the house? She took her purse 
and began to dig to the bottom furiously. Lipstick? No. A script Chris 
gave her about a surrogate camel? No. Saturn dealership flyers? No. A 
comb? No. A pack of diet pills? No. Wait, she found what just might be 
her ticket inside. Pictures of David in his Speedos that she had Chris 
download off the Internet for future blackmailing purposes. It cost her a 
little bit, but she had a reasonable stack made up professionally. She 
took out the pictures and opened the car door slowly.
	The Brigade moved in clumsily to see if David had surfaced.
	Gillian stepped from the car and walked cautiously.
	"Speedos! Speedos! Speedos!", the crowd chanted growing louder 
and louder as they approached her.
	"You like David Duchovny?," Gillian asked raising her voice and 
holding up one of the pictures for the Brigade to see.
	"Ooooooh," the crowd gasped. A few fainted at the mere sight of 
the photograph, even though his face was plastered over all their chests.
	"Come and get him," Gillian teased, leading them towards the 
street in front of the house, where an array of Saturn cars whizzed by.
	"David! David! Speedos! Speedos!," the crowd said moving with her 
reaching out to try and snag the photograph in her outstretched hand.
	In a flurry, Gillian threw the stack of pictures up into the air 
over the busy traffic. She quickly turned and ran towards the house as 
the sound of screeching tires could be heard behind her.
	Gillian scanned the side of the house and made her way into the 
backyard. Once she found the basement door she bolted down the stairs.
	David, who was hiding in a washing machine heard pounding on the 
basement door and popped his head out to look. He had locked it; it was 
Gillian, he had to let her in.
	David tried to pull himself out of the washer with no luck.
	"David! Open the door *now*!," Gillian yelled, seeing his head 
sticking up out of the washer.
	David tried again, but without any luck.
	"Shit," David cursed. He was going to be mauled to death by an 
entrage of lusty-eyed women while stuck in a decade-old washer.
	Gillian looked down and noticed a mat in front of the door. She 
lifted it up and sure enough there was the key. She snatched it up and 
unlocked the door as voices from behind her rang out, "Speedos!"
	Gillian tore the door open and slammed it shut behind herself.
	"Gillian, thank God," David said, very glad to see her.
	"What in the hell are you doing in a washing machine, Duchovny?," 
she asked, near explosion.
	"Well, actually I'm stuck, you wanna help me out here before I 
hit the second rinse cycle?," David asked calmly.
	"This series is *not* worth all of this!," Gillian said putting 
one leg on the front of the washer and the other firmly on the floor. She 
grabbed his hands and pulled.
	"Ow! Oh Jesus!," David screamed.
	"Well, what else am I gonna do?," she said, halting her pulling 
for second.
	"Just take it easy, all right?," he said.
	Gillian gave it another try.
	"Oh no, not now," David said, interrupting her.
	"What is it?"
	He began to slowly spin in a circle, each turn getting faster. 
	"What do I do?," she said not knowing how to stop it.
	"YYYoooouuuuuu cccoouulllddd uuuunnppplluuugggg iiiitttt iiinnnn 
tthhheee bbbaaccckkk," he said as his voice vibrated loudly.
	Gillian slid behind and pulled the plug, while behind the washer 
she noticed a small wooden door in the wall.
	"Hey, David, where does this door lead to?
	She went back over and noticed that David had finally come to a 
complete stop as his expression was blank and his eyes were crossed. 
	She let out a long laugh.
	"It isn't funny," he said, feeling very sick.
	After several tries she managed to pull David from the washer 
successfully. 
	"Can we go through this door?," she asked as he helped move the 
washer out of the way.
	"I don't know."
	The window glass on the basement door broke inward with a crash.
	"We have no choice," she said opening the door and climbing inside.
	"Hurry, I can hear them," he said climbing in after her and 
closing the door shut.
	Gillian followed a small enclosed path that seemed to lead 
downward. Darkness surrounded them and a fowl odor engulfed them, searing 
their nostrils.
	"You owe me *big-time* for this Duchovny!," Gillian screamed.

7:35 A.M.

	Chris' head lay flat upon his desk, his script before him. Drool ran 
out over the paper, making the ink run.
	Glen was sharpening a stack of 400 pencils in his Elvis 
pencil-sharpener as Gillian and David bolted in the door.
	"I got him!," Gillian said waking Chris out of a sound sleep.
	"Huh? What?," Chris said sitting up.
	David stood dripping wet onto the carpet.
	"What is that smell?," Glen asked.
	"That, was what was in the storm drain we crawled out of about a 
mile from David's house!," Gillian said angrily.
	"Hey, you guys are late for work, what's your excuse?," Chris 
asked with a smile.
	Gillian rolled her eyes and headed towards the restroom.
	"Hey, Chris. Is it ok if I stay with you for a while?," David asked.
	"I wouldn't do that, Chris," Glen butted in.
	David shot him a dirty look.
	"How about we find you a nice motel, eh?," Chris suggested.
	"Where?," David asked.
	"Far from here!," Chris replied.

***************************  THE END?  **********************************
	
	
	

			


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