July 2000 - 2

Journal of Dana Scully
Tuesday July 4, 2000

I really wanted to skip the Scully Family 4th of July Picnic. There was no way I'd be able to escape the prying questions of my family and Father McCue. Besides, Independence Day should be celebrated as such - independently. It's those damn pregnancy hormones that forced me to go. I couldn't stop craving Mom's red, white and blue strawberry-blueberry (Duane Barry?) cheesecake.

I arrived around noon. Sure enough, brother Bill cornered me by the rhododendrons before I could even let Mom know I was there. This time his dress white Navy uniform was strategically covered by a barbecue apron embroidered with a large cattle-like creature wearing a chef's hat and the words, "Bill's Big Beefy Bacon Burgers are Broiled Best."

He spoke to me in that whiny, teasing big brother way. "I heard you got yourself knocked up, Dana. Kind of a hard thing to do when you're as blatantly barren as you claimed to be. Or was that story made up too, like the story of This Guy Mulder being abducted for his beautiful mind?"

"I'm not making anything up, Bill," I said defensively. "No, no, of course not," Bill said snidely. "Father McCue and Mom are celebrating that little Pillsbury Pop-N-Fresh Instant Bun in that tainted oven of yours as if it's a miracle. What are you going to tell them when the Bun pops out with This Guy Mulder's overly-abundant nose and feet, huh?"

I couldn't stand there and watch Bill attach barnacles to My Partner's ship of honor and integrity. I had to do something fast. "It's not merely his nose and feet that are overly-abundant!" I shouted, drawing the attention of all the other picnickers. I grabbed the fire crackers my nephew Matthew had just lit (isn't he a little young to have his very own ship-shaped butane lighter?) and grabbed Bill by the waistband of his elasticized Navy-issued pants and tossed the little explosives where the sun doesn't shine.

Fireworks ensued, followed by equally colorful profanity from Bill's mouth. I guess that's where the term "swear like a sailor" comes from. Anyway, I pushed him into the swimming pool before any of his underly-abundant body parts became even less abundant. Mom watched the whole thing, then came over and hugged me saying, "I'm glad to see you and Bill playing nicely together just like you did when you were kids. Surely Charlie would be jealous, wherever he is. He always loved a good game of Marco Polo."

The rest of the picnic was better than I expected. I only fainted once, when little Matthew threw his uneaten hot dog at me. I won the water balloon toss, the egg toss, and the cookie toss. Mom kept insisting that My Partner is welcome at ALL Scully family gatherings now, which is certainly nice of her, but she obviously doesn't "get" the fact that he's been abducted by aliens for his beautiful mind. Then again, she still thinks that Dad being "beyond the sea" is a metaphor too.

When I got home, there were three weird messages on my answering machine. One was for a "Greta" again - must be a common name. The next one was from a representative of Nabisco Corp. informing me that they resumed Mallomar production on Monday. The last was what sounded like a recording of the tones from the theme song from "Close Encounters of the Third Kind." I must really be tired, because I could have sworn I heard My Partner's voice in the background singing these words to those notes:

"Don't forget my fish."

DKS

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