Back to the house of Quentin. As the poor kid cries at the dining-room table (where a woman I assume is his mother pats him on the head), Doggett and Scully confab. Doggett grouses: "First dead body I saw, I was nineteen and a Marine. This boy? Criminy." I have to give him bonus points for the use of the word "criminy," but his overall Hoary Curmudgeon score is suffering, due to the fact that he has not yet uttered the phrase "dollars to donuts." In the background: more crying, more patting. No hugging, though, and no learning. Oh, that's Seinfeld. Well, it sure applies to The X-Files, too, because God forbid any of these yahoos learn anything about anything. Just keep shuffling around for eight freaking more years, not agreeing with each other and not having sex. I'll be right here, recapping it. AND CRYING TEARS OF BLOOD. Sotto voce, S-Dawg tells D-Man (I told you I was bored. We have to make our own fun sometimes, people. Not necessarily our own funny, though, as is obvious from how not funny that was) that Quentin saw "a munchkin" in his room right before his Dad bought the farm -- a tiny creature with no legs. What the hell kind of version of The Wizard of Oz are they showing these kids? Jesus. She also tells him, in a massive flurry of exposition, that the CSI found palm prints in Quentin's room matching the prints in Fred's, that she thinks Morty came into the house on his own, not in someone's body, and that he crept in through the window. Okay, if a guy with no legs has the strength to climb into a second-storey window, why does he have to travel in other people's bodies? Was that just to get over to the New World to unleash his reign of nonsensical terror on Americans? Doe he just not like his little cart? Doggett points out that Quentin's dad didn't have any of the symptoms that Fred exhibited, other than the fact that all of the blood vessels in his eyeballs all are exploded and shit. Scully makes her Moment of Realization face and tells Doggett that the eyes are "just the first stage!" She literally runs off screen. Doggett stares Meaningfully after her.
Have I ever been this deeply bored before? I do think last week's episode was, to take a grammar lesson from our new president, boringer. That's precious little comfort to me RIGHT NOW, however.
Back to the autopsy room. Still no hot guy. That makes me so sad; poor lonely mysteriously pregnant Scully deserves a little R and R, doncha think? Indeed, we discover that Quentin's dad's abdomen is grotesquely swollen. Close-up on Scully, who actually looks scared, though I find it hard to believe that anything could possibly phase her after, you know, being abducted by aliens twice. She does the Glossy Pursed Lips of Gross-Outossity and takes off her jacket. No baby bulge. Maybe we all dreamed that plot point. Maybe she's just working out a lot, to maintain her girlish Special Agent figure. She approaches the table, grabs a scalpel, and does the world's nastiest C-section, slicing Poor Quentin's Poor Dead Not-Gay (As Far as We Know) Dad's abdomen almost in two. Gross gross gross gross GROSS, GODDAMN, GROSS! This bloody, mucus-y hand pushes its way out and that's when I run into the bedroom and don't come out until it's over. Sorry, folks. Scully, shocked, backs away from the table, knocking over a whole bunch of shit, and conveniently jostling her gun out of its holster and onto the ground. Scully, realizing that she needs her weapon, scampers over to retrieve it, and when she comes up, ready to open fire, Morty -- for it was he inside of Poor Quentin's Poor Not-Gay Dad -- is gone. Blood is simply everywhere, including bloody palm and ass prints leading from the gutted body to a supply closet. Scully follows them, and gives the closet a good going-over, but finds nothing. She looks around one last time, and leaves. In plain view, of course, is Morty, who just sits there and stares. So...he can make himself invisible. And he can climb through people's asses into their abdomens, and then reach down and put their pants back on. And he can shape-shift into other people. Here's where they lose me (again): I have no idea why he needs all three of those abilities. For example, if I could morph into other people, there's no way I would go to the trouble of climbing up their asses. Likewise, if I could make myself invisible, why would I need to morph into another person? I could go around all invisible all the time. I'm so confused. I guess it's time for some more of that distracting blood and guts stuff, Chris Carter! Bring it on!