THE MAN MULDER: "I'm not a psychologist."
THE FAITHFUL: "You aren't???? Since when????"

Amen

"Your mother's name is Teena."

Teena?

Amen

"Her name is *Bambi*!?"

And on that day, the scribe was downhearted, and lost in contemplation, and weary with fatigue, and under-caffeinated, which never helps, when lo, her friend, advisor, and chief counsel asked "What plagues you so, that you weep, wail, and gnash your metaphorical teeth and finish nothing, and snap at everyone, hmm?" And the scribe replied, tossing her keyboard aside,"Aubrey. I know not what to tell the flock, for there was little ship, not much in the way of UST, no Vince to praise, nor neither was there Shiban nor Amman to disparage, no particularly bad ideas, not enough innuendo to catalogue, not much in the way of deathless dialogue. And all the Little Sister, straight razor, and Peter Watts jokes, they've been done. Verily, I am discouraged." And so the Counsel considered the problem, and thought upon it, contemplating the dialogue, the unlikely but entertaining plot, the improbability of homicidal dementia being passed on genetically, and weighed this against the fine acting, the good cast, and the fact that this was truly one of The Man Mulder's good hair eps, and came back to the scribe, saying "How about *It didn't suck*?" And lo, as she had said, so it came to pass

Aubrey: It Didn't Suck.

The Man Mulder was shot, and The Helpmeet was angry, yea, and her wrath was mighty and her need for vengence strong. And she spoke to Luther Lee Boggs, who had three names and thus was maked by evil, and she said to him:

"You set us up. You’re in on this with Lucas Henry. This was a trap for Mulder because he helped put you away. Well, I came here to tell you that if he dies because of what you’ve done, four days from now, no one will be able to stop me from being the one that will throw the switch and gas you out of this life for good, you son of a bitch!"

And, verily, Agent Scully rocked.

Amen

And in that land, clouds smiled, snow came in July, and heart shaped hail fell to earth. And The Man Mulder, blindly leading the blind and busy giving advice to the lovelorn, spoke the ridiculous, saying,
" I'm perfectly happy with my relationship with Agent Scully,"
and
"I do not GAZE at Agent Scully,"
and other such nonsense, brought on, the Faithful feared, by the flying cow with his name on it.
But The Helpmeet, who had been spared such monogrammed bovine terror, put it all into prespective, saying:

"Well, it seems to me that the best relationships -- the ones that last -- are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship. You know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was just a friend is ... suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with. "

And it was good.

.....THE HELPMEET: ..Purple rain?
.....THE MAN MULDER: ...Yeah. Great album. Deeply flawed movie, though.

And that was ALL that was good.

Amen.

And lo, the Faithful were filled with relief, and sang with joy, and nodded their heads, and overlooked the goofy plot holes, happy that John seemed to finally be getting it.

And it wasn't great, but it was definitely good.

THE MAN MULDER: I know what I saw, Scully. And I saw you about to do the wild thing with some stranger.

Amen

And on that night, we had the fresh-faced young thing with the ridiculous name, The Helpmeet admitting it was an XFile, The Man Mulder eating out his heart, The Helpmeet in mortal danger, The Man Mulder making a wonderfully veiled threat, and the secret handshake action at the end.

And verily, St. Vince rocked.

Amen

You really *do* watch the Learning Channel.

Amen