Showdown, Part 19: 'The Big Dog Howls'

by Jean

 

It wasn't easy, being James Tiberius Kersh, with both the weight and responsibility of the world upon one's shoulders and attacked from every side by meddling underlines who refused to recognize the value of deception and misdirection in order to obtain one's ultimate end, which was, becoming Master of the Universe, and my oh my, how pleasant the world had become since he achieved that goal. Everything had fallen into place, as planned, and Big Dog now had the run of the kennel.
"Sir?" said Dana Scully, covered in barfed up Gerber's Cherry Plankton, "I'll be taking my maternity leave now."
"Very good, Agent Scully," said Kersh kindly while power-routering new cloacas for interns, "And congratulations on finally receiving an alien probe that worked."
Dana Scully had proven the easiest adversary to neutralize, without any effort on his part. Kersh was amazed how docile she became when the alarm finally went off on that ticking biological clock that could be heard clear to Neptune, but also wondered why, in an organization teeming with daily macho scrimmages, no one had voluntarily stepped forward to lick the frosting off *that* particular cupcake.
"Sir," said Fox Mulder, still engrossed in the discovery of opposable thumbs, "I'm off to Wichita, investigating the rumor that the face of John Denver appeared on an apple turnover at the vernal equinox."
"Very good, Agent Mulder," said Kersh, admiring his new cufflinks made from Skinner's testicles, "And glad to hear you finally got over the colic."
Kersh gave Mulder little thought except when Mulder needed his shoelaces tied, but did respect his ability to keep the ratings up. It was easy enough to psych-out the sapless agent by merely moving his facial mole to the other cheek, a minor amusement in which Kersh often indulged, when not ignited like an impacted tooth over the sight of an expired emissions sticker.
"You are a traitor, Sir, and I will bring you down," said Agent Doggett, looking buff in his Casual Day barbed-wire boxers.
"Mm," said Kersh with astringent dismissal, indifferently fiddling with the broken tv remote. The batteries must be dead, he thought, as Skinner's annoying screams of agony echoed down the hallway. Despite Doggett's threats, Kersh had learned to play him like a flute.
There were always urgent cases with frightening implications upon which to send him. No one had yet determined why the entire fleet of FBI Tauruses vanished at high noon and turned up at a chop shop in Zachetecas, or how a drooling troop of touring anacephalic Girl Scouts made off with the agency's entire inventory of laptops, or when secret nuclear codes were sent to Venezuela wrapped in Egg McMuffins, or who the new Director might be on any given day, and Doggett would chase those checkered flags until his bladder gave way.
There was always danger underneath Agent Reyes' grinning charm, Kersh thought, though she had looked quite fetching today in her new k. d. lang hair-bob, plus, she was inordinately happy at being bequeathed Smoking Man's stash. Kersh had learned, however, to distrust good humor, ever since his jolly mom had entered him in the Goodwill Games on the year they took place at The Walton's house, dropping him off at the curb without even the benefit of bolt cutters.
But, what had passed was past, and things were looking up. His only fear was that the fuming rotter's corpse of Krychek had gone missing.........

........to be continued.

PART 20

HOME