Episode Report Card
Jessica: A | 8 USERS: A+
Bad Blood

LBO. "Dana?" Mulder yelps, stopping mid-sunflower seed. "He never even knew your first name!" he says. Scully looks at him. "You going to interrupt me, or what?" she asks, sticking her tongue in her cheek. "No. You go ahead," Mulder says. "Dana," he whispers. She shoots him a slightly dirty look. "That was when you had your big breakthrough. Whatever," she mutters.

Scully Vision. "Agent Scully, you really know your stuff," Luke says. At this point, Mulder runs around to the other end of the body, asking again if it's in exactly the same state as he was when he was found. "Yes sir, to the letter," Luke says. "Sheriff!" Mulder yells. "Have you noticed? That this man's SHOES ARE UNTIED?" Hee. David Duchovny's delivery of this line is hilariously overdramatic. Luke calmly comments that, yes, they are untied. "What's the point, Mulder?" Scully asks. Luke turns back to her. Scully smiles and bats her lashes. Mulder wonders if there's a cemetery in town. "The creepier the better," he specifies. Luke says that there is. "Take me there. Now," Mulder orders, then turns to go. He looks back at Scully. "We're going to need a complete autopsy on this man, the sooner the better," he tells her, then starts to run off. Scully manages to grab him and they confab for a moment. "What am I even looking for?" she hisses. He puts his hands on her shoulders and looks deeply into her eyes. "I. Don't. Know," he intones dramatically. Then he races out the door. Scully stares after him for a moment, then turns back to Luke. "He does that," she explains, offhand. Boy, does he ever. Mulder calls impatiently for Luke from outside in the hall. Luke puts on his hat. "Ma'am," he says, tilting it chivalrously before he goes. Scully stares blankly at the body, then heaves an exasperated sigh.

Autopsy Time With Dr. Dana Scully. She rolls her tools over to the body and heaves another put-upon sigh. She could not be more bored. She takes out her tape recorder. "Begin autopsy on white male. Age sixty," she begins. "Who's arguably having a worse time in Texas than I am. Although not by much. I'll begin with a Y incision." Then, very dully: "Yee-haw."

Scully heaves the man's heart into the scale. "370 grams. Tissues healthy," she monotones blankly. Next, the lung. "345 grams. Tissues healthy." Next, a struggle to get all of the slippery large intestine in the scale. "890 grams. Yada, yada, yada," Scully says. She pokes around the man's insides, shifting her weight from one little foot to the other. "Stomach contents show last meal close to time of death," she mutters. "Consisting of...pizza! Topped with...pepperoni, green peppers, mushrooms. Mushrooms...that sounds really good." Scully cracks her neck.

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