Long before there were reality show blow-by-blows, Television Without Pity and even Mighty Big TV, I was recapping “The X-Files” for friends and co-conspirators. I called this little email “X-Files News in Brief” after a newsletter I wrote for Levi’s. With “The X-Files” returning for a six-episode run Jan. 24, I thought I’d dust off this ditty I wrote in 2002, when the show departed the airwaves. At the very least, it will catch you up in time for Sunday’s reboot. (Material not suitable for work.)
THE VERY LAST X-FILES NEWS IN BRIEF*
*At least until the next movie comes out. . .
Yes, gentle readers, “The X-Files” has arrived at the end of its network run. . .As Marita Covarrubias once told Mulder, “Not everything dies.” And so, “The X-Files” will live on in the hearts of fans, in nightly reruns, and soon as a major motion picture franchise, despite Gillian’s insistence that she can’t imagine playing Dana Scully as a senior citizen. Wheelchairs and flashlights? We’ll be there in the first row!. . .To borrow Ten Thirteen’s motto, “I made this” – with a little inspiration from Longfellow’s “Midnight Ride of Paul Revere”. . .Hope it recalls your favorite episodes and highlights the joys of X. . .
A FAREWELL ODE TO “THE X-FILES”
Listen, dear ‘Filers, and you shall grock
This farewell ode to Dana and Fox.
On the tenth of September in Ninety-three,
“The X-Files” debuted on network TV.
Aliens, monsters, paranormal shocks,
Not the usual fare of the idiot box.
No one would call you a Girly Girl,
Inhabiting this nightmarish world.
For nine long years you’ve endured such a fright
From freaks ‘n’ geeks that go bump in the night,
Red-eyed mothmen lurking under the bed;
Burger-flippers devouring brains from a head!
Flying saucers that can scorch you into a French fry,
And Flukey and Faster and Tooms, oh my!
Fans loved Fox Mulder’s punning reflex,
And watching Wonderbra’d Scully snap on the latex.
But the real truth is, the show made a spark,
From Episode One to Season Number Nine,
With the paranoid thrills the mythology arc
Sent up and down your tingling spine.
Delving into paranoid conspiracy
‘Twas like swimming in porridge;
Each time they solved a mystery,
The government denied knowledge.
Down in the basement, Scully met Spooky.
From the first, we knew, she found him quite kooky.
His fringe theories she’d been asked to debunk,
To separate pure science from Fox’s space junk.
But the skeptical redhead began to waver
The night foxy Mulder dashed in to save her
From a yellow-eyed mutant intent on her liver,
Eugene’s cuisine made everyone shiver.
Flashlights in hand, off the partners went
To uncover the Litchfield Experiment.
And reveal the secrets of a fallen UFO,
After Deep Throat put them in the know.
Soon doubting Dana no longer had to ask,
Why the paranormal was part of their task.
Her handsome partner was quickly besot,
Like Frohike, he found Scully white hot!
Scully wasn’t Melvin’s only obsession,
Sneezy had dibs on Mulder’s porno collection.
With one peek into the Erlenmeyer Flask,
The enemy slowly lifted its mask.
A cunning conspiracy soon laid bare,
The agents knew The Truth is Out There.
Season Two saw the X-Files down for the count,
Till Krycek led Fox up to Skyland Mount.
There Duane Barry arranged Dana’s abduction,
Staged to look like an EBE production.
Upon Scully’s return,
The agents would learn
Aliens were here, we had plenty to fear.
The date set for colonization,
Humanity due for extermination.
The shows were on fire, the tension got hotter,
Chris Carter certainly was a master plotter.
Though, our favorite outings this sophomore year,
Were the ones about monsters, not alien fear.
Chaco Chicken and Flukeman and “Humbug” were great
And left us wondering, Was it something we ate?
Darin Morgan’s first script turned X into Felini
And then there was Mulder’s itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny red hot Speedo bikini.
Season Two ended with a fiery jar,
Mulder stranded in burning boxcar.
Cancer Man lit the fuse, that devilish bomber,
And left us pondering for the rest of the summer,
Whether Mulder’s life he’d managed to erase,
But then, nothing on X-Files disappears without a trace.
The black-lunged bastard was in for a surprise,
Killing Agent Mulder doesn’t mean he dies.
Back on the case, Scully in tow,
The most venal man you will ever know
Tipped the special agents where to go.
A dank, dark place with lots and lots of files,
A mine shaft that went on for miles and miles.
It seemed the government had its own plan:
How to survive when shit hit the fan.
A new threat arose from the bottomless sea,
Hidden in oil the color of tea.
Mulder escaped the Syndicate’s snare,
Avoiding the fate that was Alex’s share.
The alien plot, Krycek sought to expose,
But spoiler was foiled, oil poured from his nose.
Season Three really began to hum,
When Dana and Fox met Jose Chung,
And learned the score from one Clyde Bruckman
That Mulder would die from autoerotic asphyxiation.
How ‘bout those cases of troubled teens?
One rained down lightning on those who were mean.
Two girls who knew how to Carpe P.M.,
A Ronin who sought victims to condemn.
Pusher used his thoughts to control the brain
Scully didn’t believe—her constant refrain—
Cerulean Blue may be like a gentle breeze,
But it ain’t no fun, when your partner has a gun
And he tells you to freeze.
The new season shed nary a light
Upon our agents’ perilous fight.
Their latest cases, frankly, were macabre,
Tracking goat-sucking fiends called Chupacabra,
Rattling incestuous rednecks out of their beds,
Searching for Leonard, or one of his heads.
In Year Four, we learned little more
About the oily fiend
Slithering onto the scene,
While Russians used Mulder to test their vaccine.
We watched Max’s demise on a wayward flight,
But Max wasn’t alone in deadly plight,
The scariest moment, we must suppose,
Was the cancer found up Scully’s nose.
When the curtain rose on Season Five,
Dana Scully was barely alive.
And what of Mulder’s ongoing quest?
A hoax, he was sure, now laid to rest.
No more would he believe in secret UFOs.
His mission: A cure for Scully’s repose.
The answer came from a place unexpected,
Cancer had grown when the chip disconnected.
With Dana returned to the fullness of health,
The partners resumed their ventures of stealth.
Trouble found them in a town full of vamps,
Who pulled up stakes on their trailer park camps.
Just when Mulder felt no more surprise,
There appeared new aliens without any eyes,
Immolating abductees, a fiery demise,
They seemed to be on a homicidal bender,
Until they encountered Cassandra Spender.
Scully escaped the funeral pyre,
To hear Mulder call her tale the words of a liar,
But soon Fox’s faith would begin to restore,
Once Krycek clued him to the alien war.
The final conundrum: To Resist or Serve?
Fox’s belief never again would swerve.
Even more queries the X-Files did raise,
When the agents looked into the case of Gibson Praise.
Was this kid a psychic chess prodigy,
Or Melvin Frohike’s “Mini-Me”?
Turns out the boy had alien DNA,
And so the Syndicate spirited him away.
But which double-dealer had the vaccine?
Would alien invaders discover the scheme?
Is the Syndicate on the side of humanity,
Or evil traitors on the verge of insanity?
Will Fox and Dana learn of the threat?
What do you think? Are we confused yet?
When the first reel of the movie unspooled,
The office was closed, the X-Files shut tight,
For our intrepid agents, things didn’t look bright.
But true believers know not to be fooled,
Soon Mulder and Scully would set things aright.
Scully went missing, locked in deep freeze,
While the Syndicate hatched a plot for its bees.
One sting from a hybridized pricker,
Implants a little alien kicker,
Turns an unsuspecting host into jelly,
While baby E.T. grows in its belly.
So Mulder flew to the fortress of ice,
To save dear Dana from evil device.
His reward for being so intrepid?
He finally got to see Dana nekkid.
Scully saw nothing, or so she swore,
Only Fox knew the truth of the alien spore.
When X-Files returned from its big-screen premiere,
Things in Hoover building grew even more weird.
Agents Fowley and Spender took over the cases,
Leaving Scully and Mulder in mighty strange places.
For the forces of truth, what could be worse?
Mulder and Scully now reported to Kersh.
With Kersh’s orders would Mulder comply?
Of course not! He spit in the A.D.’s eye.
He snuck under the radar and got into trouble,
When a Man in Black used a time-warp bubble
To become Fox Mulder’s body double.
Morris was sleazy, he macked on Scully,
Her reputation he seemed certain to sully.
Until the time-space warp wefted itself,
And Morris’s life went back on the shelf.
In a haunted house, on Christmas Eve,
Scully told Mulder she wanted to leave.
The halls were decked, the night a tradition
Instead the duo were sent to perdition
By suicidal ghosts with a ghastly pact.
But who shot whom? Will we ever know fact?
Was it simply Fox’s paramasturbatory fantasy?
Or murderous spirits in the mood for mystery?
Hot on the trail of two missing hikers,
Mulder went looking for little green strikers,
Only to be foiled by psychedelic fungus,
Not, as he thought, aliens among us.
Next, an artifact set Fox’s head a-dinging,
Now he was sure, aliens were ringing.
The cause was a chunk of E.T. debris,
Lost on the coast of an African sea,
A spaceship humming on unearthly frequency.
But what were the symbols carved on its skin?
Would Scully find a cure for Mulder within?
If Dana could solve the spacelings’ equation,
Perhaps they could stop the alien invasion!
After seven long years, finally an answer;
Fox discovers who really took Samantha.
His sister at peace, her soul among starlight,
Mulder decides to take up a new fight.
The latest clue sprang from the very first Files,
Involving the case of abductee Billy Miles.
The alien war has a new footsoldier,
Borne from the chip in young Bill’s shoulder.
The FBI is in on the deception,
But what has this to do with Scully’s conception?
Season Eight made us question, Who was the father?
By now, you may wonder, why did fans bother?
Mulder was gone, from this earth he’d been stolen
Only to return, in a condition quite swollen.
Could it be that the death knell had tolled?
Or, simply the way Duchovny acted his role?
John Doggett to the X-Files soon was appointed,
How would this play to the X-anointed?
Would fans accept Scully’s new man,
Or treat him as Fox’s also-ran?
Would he be true, or try to deceive her?
Did fans want Scully in the role of believer?
As the season wore down to its inevitable conclusion,
Doggett guarded Dana from creep and contusion.
He found a safe haven to deliver the child,
And kept a straight face in a plot run wild.
One thing about shows in the Eighth Season:
Not enough fun, far too much reason.
It left us yearning for Mulder’s puns,
And Darin Morgan’s earlier, funnier ones.
Doggbert kept up a season-long whine
That extended into Year Number Nine.
Here’s the story of the final season:
Alien invaders had Fox on the run.
A cover, in fact, for David’s departure
From cult-status show that made him a star.
Leaving John and Monica, our googly-eyed pair,
To investigate the Brady Bunch affair.
And bid adieu to the three Lone Gunmen
Whose heroic deaths stopped bio-Armageddon.
Oh, and there’s the matter of Scully’s son,
Sweet little psychokinetic baby William.
Were the sprite’s powers heaven-sent?
Or birthday gift from the secret government,
To save the world from alien invasion?
Most likely it’s another Carter evasion.
After a decade of clues, tricky to follow,
I hate to admit it, this plot’s too hard to swallow.
How will it end? What clues will they leave,
When “Endgame” airs this next Sunday eve?
Will the exit strategy spoil what we know,
For the faithful fans who’ve taped every show?
Fox and Dana deserve a heroes’ farewell,
Not a new rung on the circles of hell.
Will aliens lead us on another goose chase,
Followed by a movie sequel post-haste?
Little to go on, no spoiler to review,
Except for hints in last week’s preview.
One sign is good, should raise all our hopes,
That smiling assassin of night-time soaps,
Greg Sumner, it seems, has Fox on the ropes,
And takes him to task for his Grand Obsession.
X endangered again? Not out of the question.
We’ve watched in awe these last nine years,
Let’s hope the finale allays all our fears.
Whatever Chris Carter may have up his sleeve:
If the Truth is Out There, then I Want to Believe. . .