By Chris Carter
1013 Productions
Greetings all!
It seemed such a simple plan, devious in its inception and almost
elegant in its execution. I was handed the reins of a multimillion
dollar television franchise, and along with it the respect of my
betters and the adulation of countless thronging hordes of nubile
young...fans, fans, yes that's it. But I discovered rather
quickly that I was not up to the task, as hard as that may be for you
to believe. My scripts were weak, my direction was middling at best,
and tongues began to wag (and not in the direction I like) that I was
leaping headfirst like a lemming off a cliff onto credit for
something that was not mine to take. What to do? What, indeed, to
do?
Well, it was actually quite easy. Once fan interest attained fever
pitch in the first season, I had a wealth of source material and
advice at my disposal. You see, I read fanfic - no need to pay writers
and really good stuff too! I read newsgroups and pulled bits and
pieces of suggestions. I infiltrated fan groups, usually posing as a
young girl of about 18, exuberant, enthusiastic, typically posting
under the names "Emily" or "Sorin." I made contacts and, well,
conquests as well.
Oh, people have been, frankly, harsh. People have muttered words
such as "J. Michael Strazynski" and "freaking show bible" and such
under their breath. And don't think for a moment that it hasn't
hurt. I have very little time to do scientific research during my
day! I have a fine silver coif to concern myself with, the
maintenance of a public persona to concentrate on, purple prose to
create and refine.
Imagine my surprise at discovering that not everyone was as enamored
of the master-of-yuppie-morbidity act as I was. Imagine my shock at
well-crafted episodes turned in by, well, you'd have to expect it out
of Mister Ivy League New York My-Shit-Don't-Smell Duchovny, but by
Gillian and Bill Davis to boot? I half expected Brendan Beiser to
walk in the door with a stunning three-parter about spectral figures
in the Australian outback and lunar phases. So what I thought I'd
do, just for kicks, is give the real story behind some of the key
points of the mytharc. Or rather...I desire to expound at length
on the etiology and development of the mythological underpinnings,
nay, the very sine qua non, of the show. (snerk - isn't that what you
crazy Internet people say?)
• The Black Oil
First appeared in "Piper Maru," right? See, here's a
funny story. Frank had just bought a schweet little BMW Z3 roadster.
The metallic blue, right? He thought I didn't catch him that time
in the bathroom doing his "Bond, James Bond" in front of the mirror.
He was wrong. His heretofore sad history with the ladies had finally
started to look up between the babemobile and his new $250 haircut.
So one day Frank drives onto the lot and takes up his usual
space-and-the-handicapped-space-next-to-it, despite those spaces
being roped off, because, of course, that building was being reroofed
that day. The roofers parked the tar right next to Frank's car, and
when he came out for lunch with Tawny Kitaen, the babemobile was
covered with steaming globs of black muck. Tawny literally looked at
him and walked away. I laughed so hard I farted. Two days later, I
had the script for "Piper Maru" on my desk. Oh, he put up a big fuss
about the coolness of the black-eye effect from "Die Hand de
Whatever" and the creep-to-cost-of-effect factor, but I knew what it
was all about. I threw in that part with Nic Lea on his hands and
knees barfing up the oil at the end of "Apocrypha" because, well, he
just looked hot doing it. Not for me, mind you. Oh no.
• The Bees
This was "Herrenvolkswagenfahrfergnuven" or whatever the
hell it was. At this point we knew that the movie was a reality and
so I was starting to play the game of "visuals I would like to see."
For some reason I kept coming (ahem) back to the idea of Scully's
nude body covered with...something. First I was thinking about
the black oil - sort of an instant catsuit, you know? But then Frank
pointed out that you couldn't be covered in the stuff without it
entering you and changing you, and besides, Frank had never been able
to suppress that little twitch he got in his face when the oil came
up. So rather than screw with the show's plot continuity (eyeroll)
and more importantly, to avoid dealing with Mister Twitchy every
freaking day, I started to envision Scully coated in other viscous
liquids. Motor oil? Green, iridescent. But awfully runny at body
temperature. This ain't cable and we weren't going NC-17,
unfortunately, you know? I rewatched Ann-Margret's scene with the
baked beans and soapsuds in "Tommy" about eighty million times, and
finally after my hand was tired, I came up with...honey! Of
course! We would need a plot device involving bees. We could always
work out the specifics later.
• The Corn
Also "Fahrferghardlymuven" or whatever. We knew with the
bees, we'd need a plant of some kind. Just to give the impression
that this was going somewhere, you know? The science folks tried to
get us to use peas, for that little Gregor Mendel slant, but we
settled on corn for one primary reason. Ever since Vince had signed
on, a couple of us had taken to calling the little talented bastard
"cornhole." You know, that Southern accent and all. We liked to
make squealing piggy noises around him too. So one night between the
blue martinis and cigars and strippers, we settled on corn. Hey,
it's phallic too. Bo-nus.
• Krycek's Arm
That actually came from a longstanding joke between
David and myself. He said if I didn't stop masturbating so much,
they were going to have to saw my arm off. We just switched it to
the other arm so it wouldn't be such an obvious reference.
• The Faceless Aliens
This was actually inspired by this terrifying
recurrent dream I have, in which nameless, faceless men are
approaching me, menacing me with flaming hot probes. I am at turns
terrified by and enthralled by these men. I always wake up in a
sweat. I figured it would make for good TV.
• The Chips
Well, it's pretty obvious. My old surfing buddy Woody
and I used to have a joke about how convenient it would be if our
girlfriends had little homing devices planted in their necks so that
when we were horny, we could just hit their remotes and get them
right over. Lock and load, baby. Duh.
• The Walk-Ins
Same thing. It was a code term we used for those
skank chippies Woody and I took home that we never planned on seeing
again, you know? Plus the idea of casting a 14, 15 year old who
looked like she'd had some wear and tear and shooting her running
across a field in the moonlight. Well, let's just say I enjoyed
making that executive decision, huh?
What's that you say? How does it all tie together? Well the alien
races colonized the planets and fought and battled and plotted
and schemed and had kinky alien sex orgies and transgenic
breeding and it was just a wild, crazy scene, you know? That much
should be clear.
Sincerely,
Chris Carter
1013 Productions
(Celebrity voice impersonated. No animals, aliens, humans, or
legumes were harmed in the creation of this hoax.)
