Fade in on a playground, complete with pony rides, and a tinkly, creepy children's choir oooohhing and ahhhing on the soundtrack. A lone blond tot plays on a swing set, as the Non-Hip, Non-Squiggly Font of Location Introduction informs us that this is the Webster Elementary School in Dexter Oklahoma, September 21, 1990.
Swing. Swing. "Mom!" calls the blond tot, "watch me! Mom!" Can you smell the irony in the air? Mom, hugely pregnant, glances at the tot. "Okay, Billy!" she says, smiling, and going back to talking to another Mom-like woman. A pathetic-looking greasy teenage boy stares forlornly at Billy. Billy is appalled that his mother would rather talk to another adult for five bloody minutes than watch him swing. The music tinkles ominously. Greasy stares at Billy's backpack, which is purple with a "Dinosaurs from Outer Space" patch on it. If that's not asking for trouble in The X-Files universe, I don't know what is. Billy swings backward, Mom pats her pregnant belly, and looks over at him, just as the swing swings forward. The swing, suddenly, is vacant. Mom freaks, naturally, and runs around, screaming for Billy. She races past several clowns, which, to me, signals that, obviously, this is an extremely evil carnival. Clowns equal evil. Know it, and believe it. "Billlllllllleeeee!" She screams. Greasy leans awkwardly against the wall of the petting zoo. He's holding little Billy's backpack. Furtively looking around, he drops it.
Credits. Maybe the truth is in that backpack. Sorry, that wasn't really very funny. I'm just working with what they're giving me here, people.
Welcome back to Western Elementary School, Home of The Evil Clown Carnival. Ten years later. Mom pulls up to the front of the school. She conveniently finds a parking spot right in front of the school and hops out, presumably to pick up her other, non-kidnapped, child. As she crosses the street, another mother and her child stare at her. She gets a series of blank stares from other parents, and several bunches of children. "Mom!" calls a dark-haired kid. Mom turns, surprised. Josh, for that is her child's name, half-heartedly informs her that "they're looking for [her]." Mom furrows her brow. Josh gestures to a whole gaggle of teacher-y looking adults standing in a phalanx behind them, and in front of the aforementioned swing set. Mom heads over to the phalanx, looking, naturally, perplexed. The head of the phalanx, a principal-looking type guy, tells "Mrs. Underwood" that they've been calling her and calling her and calling her and calling her. Mrs. Underwood wants to know what the hell is going on, and why everyone is staring at her. Helpfully, the Principal Dude says nothing, but moves aside. The phalanx parts like the Red Sea to reveal Billy, swinging merrily away. Well, he doesn't really look very merry, but he is swinging. Mrs. Underwood bursts into tears as Billy toddles off the swing and turns around to look at his mother. He looks blank and a little perturbed. "My sweet little boy," Mrs. Underwood sniffs, not appearing at all taken aback by the fact that her sweet little boy is still seven years old. She embraces him tearfully. Billy's expression doesn't change. Josh looks wary.