Dear hashers, I wrote this back in the heyday of the X-Files. I hope hashers today still watch the reruns, otherwise this won’t make a lot of sense, nor will the interesting bit of ancient internet history at the end.

Episode # 69: Trail to Nowhere

Scully: Mulder? Mulder?

Mulder: Here, Scully, down here! I’m in the drain pipe under the road. Watch yourself coming down the bank . . . there’s a lot of loose rocks.

Scully: God, Mulder, I almost lost a heel. Why did you call me way out here in the country, and what are you doing in this pipe?

Mulder: You’re standing almost right on top of the reason. Look down.

Scully: Oh. What is it?

Mulder: I don’t know. I never saw anything like it before.

Scully: What’s it made of? Did you take a sample?

Mulder: Yes. It’s flour. Just plain white flour.

Scully: I don’t understand.

Mulder: Someone . . . or something . . . made this mark by dribbling flour, Scully.

Scully: It looks fresh.

Mulder: It is. Less than three days old.

Scully: What’s that pattern? Some kind of hex symbol? A Native American rune?

Mulder: I spent all afternoon researching local folklore and native history, Scully, and there’s nothing quite like it — a circle with an ‘X’ through its center. But it means something. I feel it.

Scully: Mulder! What’s wrong?

Mulder: I’m sorry . . . okay, okay, I’m okay now . . . this is connected with the strange noises they heard out here the other night.

Scully: Strange noises? This is the middle of nowhere, Mulder.

Mulder: I know. That’s what the county sheriff said when he called me. He said no one lives out here but a couple of farmers, and nothing out of the ordinary has happened in this part of the state for years, but two nights ago both farmers called within minutes of each other, reporting strange noises. They said it sounded like people . . . screaming, or something. And there were lights in the woods.

Scully: Mulder, two nights ago was the full moon.

Mulder: Somehow I knew that. Follow me, Scully . . . I think there are going to be more of these marks.

Scully: But how do you know which way to go?

Mulder: Something tells me to go this way.

Scully: Through the drain pipe? Mulder, I’ll wreck my shoes!

Mulder: Scully, don’t you know you should never wear new shoes when doing fieldwork? Oh . . . wow!

Scully: Mulder, what’s wrong now?

Mulder: Damn . . . I experienced the strongest sense of déjà vu when I said that. Never mind, I can see light from the far end of the pipe now. Keep your head low, Scully, there’s cobwebs.

Scully: Mulder, look!

Mulder: Yes, I knew it . . . more marks. But these are different.

Scully: This one’s just a blob of flour. It almost looks like someone threw it down in a hurry. And look, footprints . . . a lot of footprints!

Mulder: The footprints go both ways. Let’s keep going this way and . . . look, three parallel lines . . . the footprints stop here. It’s as if they all stopped here and changed direction, whoever they were. Yes, I see it now! C’mon, Scully, hurry . . . we have to go back through the drain pipe.

Scully: Oh, no . . . oh, ICK! Damn you, Mulder, I’ve got mud all over me now!

Mulder: Shiggy.

Scully: What did you say?

Mulder: I didn’t say anything.

Scully: You did. You said ‘shiggy.’

Mulder: I did?

Scully: Mulder, you’re frightening me.

Mulder: Look, Scully, more of those flour blobs . . . and now all the footprints are going one way. ON ON!

Scully: EEK!

Mulder: Scully, what is it? Why did you scream?

Scully: Mulder, you just shouted ‘ON ON’ right in my ear!

Mulder: Really?

Scully: Yes. Stop it. I don’t like what’s happening here. It’s getting dark. Let’s find our way back to the road and get out of here. We can come back tomorrow, in the daylight.

Mulder: No, wait. Do you still carry that little flashlight in your purse? Yes, that’s it. Let me use it . . . these marks are leading somewhere, and we’re almost there . . . I feel it strongly . . . a feeling of something, I don’t know what, being near. Something . . . near. Bear? No, there haven’t been bears in these woods since 1850. B . . . E . . . E . . . Bees? No, that’s not it. Something wet. Damn, I can’t quite get it.

Scully: Mulder, look! Here, on this rock . . . it says ‘on in.’

Mulder: On in?

Scully: All the footprints go into this field. I think you’re right. I think this is where everyone was going.

Mulder: Look, Scully, they all stood in a circle . . . facing in. And what’s this in the middle? It’s an indentation in the grass . . . a perfect circle . . . something landed here!

Scully: Well, it couldn’t have been very big. This indentation is about as big around as a garbage can, or maybe a keg of beer.

Mulder: What did you say?

Scully: I said it couldn’t have been very big.

Mulder: No, the last part.

Scully: That it’s about as big around as a keg of beer?


Scully: EEEEEEEEEEK! (thump)

Mulder: Oh, no . . . Scully, Scully, wake up. It’s okay, everything’s all right. There, there . . . breathe slow and deep. What happened?

Scully: Mulder, you’re channeling or something. This is too scary. Let me up . . . I want out of here now!


Scully: Mulder! Mulder! Come out of it, Mulder!


Scully: Mulder, oh God, Mulder, please stop!


Scully: Mulder, what are you doing with your hand? Oh, GROSS! Mulder, you’re not psychic — you’re just a sick fuck! Find your own way out of the woods, you pervert! (sound of thrashing branches)

Transcript, Owl County Sheriff’s Department Emergency Response Hotline, November 24, 1996, 10:53pm: Sheriff Adams? It’s Fred Spivey again. You’d better head on out . . . that screamin’ noise is comin’ outta the woods again, and I got me some woman a-poundin’ on my door. . . .


Dear Hashers,
I hope you enjoyed this. I just wanted to share a few interesting things I learned while doing research on the X-Files. Borrowing a line from Dave Barry, I swear I am not making this up:

  • Yahoo registers 504 hits on X-Files.
  • There are about 20 mail lists serving X-Files fans who write their own episodes and post them for other fans to read. Many of these stories are graphically sexual and apparently written by 13-year-old boys. I don’t think the show’s producers consult these lists much, if at all.
  • There’s an informal organization called the “X-Philes Romantic Association,” whose members write episodes featuring Mulder and Scully in erotic situations, but not as explicit as those mentioned above. The people who contribute to XPRA seem to be adults.
  • The above group has a photo gallery, where members submit doctored photos of men and women with grafted-on Mulder and Scully heads. As with their stories, there’s nothing pornographic – these are photos of men and women with their clothes on, holding hands and kissing and such. I saw one with Mulder and Scully in bed, with the sheets up to their necks, and that was as wild as it got. “Ha ha,” I hear you saying, “that Flying Booger’s been sniffing too many stray dog turds.” Scoff not. This is one of at least three such sites.

No doubt this says something about our times, but damned if I can make out what’s being said. How would you classify such people? Pathetic worms? No-life dweebs? Potential hashers? And how did they manage to find each other?

I’ll let the philosopher kings of Hash-L figure it out. I found a site where they take actual porno photos and graft on little cartoon heads so you can fantasize getting down and dirty with the comic strip babe of your dreams. I’m going to spend the rest of the afternoon there. And I’m keeping the URL to myself.

On On,
Flying Booger

p.s. (with apologies to Clement Clark Moore):

More rapid than Beavis in his trousers he came,
And he snorted, and leered, and called them by name:
“Now, Wilma! now, Betty! now, Blondie and Tootsie (a-hehn!)
On, Brenda! on, Cathy! on, Smurfette and Fritzie!
To the top of the bedpost, and right up the wall!
Now, hump away, hump away, hump away, all!”
And I heard him exclaim as he humped out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to me, I’ll boff Orphan Annie tonight!”

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