DISTRIBUTION: OK for Scullyslash, Archive/X, elsewhere by permission. Email forwarding is OK.
SUMMARY: Scully learns the joys of fiction awards.
This is the long awaited sequel to "Agent Scully and the Dirty Story."
NOTA BENE: With the Spookies and Whammies swirling around us I was in the mood for this. I don't mean to suggest that I'm against awards -- I'm not, especially if they're awarded to me. <g> So, here's hoping next year will see an Outstanding Awards Parody category.
Thanks to Katherine F. whose list of alternative award categories sparked me to write this.
DISCLAIMER: Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox own the X-Files, not me.
January 1999

by Halrloprillalar <prillalar@geocities.com>

One fine Saturday morning in spring, Agent Scully poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at her computer to check her email. She had a note from her mother asking her to come for dinner on Sunday, a piece of spam promising her she could "Work from Home in Your Slippers$ No Selling!", *another* request from Mulder to return his green sweatshirt...

No way Mulder was getting that shirt back. Scully remembered his look of chagrin when she'd fished it out of the back seat on that last stakeout. She was cold, what could he say? Then when she'd gotten home and found the initials "AK" on the tag, well, she'd felt even warmer. It would be just the thing to wear today, for a walk in the park, some shopping, then over to Holly's in the evening.

Dragging her attention back to her email, Scully found a note from Langly:

To: washingtonacdc@egroups.com From: Langly
        <manhammer@geocities.com> Subject: [Washington AC/DC]
        Bawdy Award!

We've been writing for six months now and we're hot.
        It's time for a contest. We each write a finely crafted
        work of erotic literature (that's "smut", Frohike) and
        then we'll vote on them. The winner gets the coveted
        Bawdy Award which I will painstakingly model and paint.

What say you all?


Scully drank her coffee and thought about it. It would be fun to be in a contest. And she had been writing dirty stories longer than most of them so she figured she stood a pretty good chance of winning. In fact, she had a really good idea she'd been saving up. She posted a note to the group to say she agreed with Langly and then started in on "Rutabaga Revels."

Assistant Director Skinner sat at his desk in the Hoover Building, trying to catch up on paperwork over the weekend. When the email came in from Langly, he sat and pondered it for a while. He felt his prowess in erotic writing was unsurpassed and here was a chance to have that publicly validated. He quickly posted his approval of Langly's suggestion. He was about to start in on his story when he thought better of writing dirty stories on a Bureau computer. After all, he didn't want Kim to steal his ideas -- he knew she snooped through his hard drive when he was at lunch. So he went home and began to create his masterpiece, "The Curious Secret of Ste. Rose du Lac."

When Kim got the email, she wasn't so sure that a contest was such a good idea. After all, they all enjoyed writing and sharing their stories. How would an award make it any better? She called up Scully to get her opinion, but Scully was out for a walk, trying to work through a tricky positioning problem. Then Kim checked her mail again and saw that most everybody else was in favour of the contest. So she thought she might as well write a story too. Maybe another one about Stefan and Louis, favourite characters of hers. This time, camping.

Scully worked really hard on her story. She thought she wouldn't be able to get it done on time, so when Mulder wanted her to go to Wisconsin to investigate some strange cheese-related phenomena she told him she had the flu. In reality, she stayed at home to edit her story. She felt a little guilty when he brought her back a cheese log and some crackers.

The entry deadline rolled around and everyone posted their stories to the list. They had a week to read all the stories and then submit their secret vote to the website that Frohike had set up.

Scully read over the other entries carefully. "Black Bikinis and Strawberry Ice Cream" by Frohike was fun, but Scully didn't think it would win. Byers' tale, "Out-takes from Homer" was hot, but contained too many classical references to be easily accessible. And Langly's entry--well, it wasn't *plagiarism* but did he really think none of the rest of them had read the Journal Entries? Skinner's story was very subtle and erotic and Scully could hardly enjoy it because she was worried it was better than hers. Even Holly had written a story this time, "Hotpants Hortense." It was bad. Really bad. Scully hoped Holly wouldn't ask her opinion of it. Holly was much better at the *practical* side of erotica.

She saved Kim's story for last. Scully always looked forward to the Stefan and Louis stories. She always printed them out and kept them in a binder on her bedside table, right next to Sparky. Kim was in top form with this one and Scully felt very flushed and excited by the time she'd finished reading it. She sat and smiled for a minute. Then it hit her: was Kim's story better than hers? She had to decide because the votes were due in that afternoon.

Scully thought and thought and got up and paced and thought some more. Then she flipped a coin. Heads, Kim's story, tails Scully's. It came up tails. So she entered her vote and went out to the movies.

When Scully got back, she checked her email with trepidation. Frohike should have finished tallying the votes. Sure enough, there was the mail.

To: washingtonacdc@egroups.com From: Frohike
        <FroYo@whitehouse.gov> Subject: [Washington AC/DC] And
        the winner is...

Nobody. Everybody apparently voted for their own
        stories, instead of for mine. I think we need an outside
        judge. Any ideas?


Great, Scully thought. What now? Who could they get to judge? Hmm... She smiled to herself and opened a new email message.

To: dpendrell@fbi.gov From: dscully@fbi.gov

Agent Pendrell:

I wonder if you could do me a favour...

A week later, their whole group was assembled in Skinner's living room awaiting the judging. The Bawdy Award, a less-than-tasteful plaster statuette, sat on the coffee table. Skinner looked at his watch. "He's late."

Just then Pendrell came in, followed closely by Mulder.

Skinner stood. "How did you--"

Mulder grinned. "I let us in."

"You told me you *lost* that key," Skinner hissed. "Give it to me *now*. And why are you here anyway?"

"I came with Pendrell. He, ah, needed a lift."

Mulder smiled his way around the room and settled in next to Byers while Pendrell shuffled his feet at the front of the room.

"Well, I, uh, I was honoured to be asked to judge this competition and I've spent a lot of time reading over all the entries." His face flushed redder than his tousled hair and his blue eyes sparkled. "They were most...enjoyable. And I think you all deserve recognition." He began to clap and the rest joined in for a minute.

Pendrell cleared his throat and continued. "I deliberated long and hard over this and it was a most difficult decision, but in the end I had to decide. So, the winner of the Bawdy Award is Mulder, for his story 'Rishathra: A True Confession.'" Pendrell fluttered his eyelashes at Mulder who blew him a pouty kiss. Everyone else was livid.


"Who said he could enter?"

"That punk!"

Pendrell looked confused. "I don't understand. Is there some problem with Mulder's entry?"

Before anyone else could answer, Mulder jumped up, grabbing the statue with one hand and Pendrell with the other. "They're just jealous, sweetheart. Come on, let's go." He pulled Pendrell out the door, leaving the others in stunned silence for a minute.

"Dammit," Skinner muttered. "He still has that key."

Kim stood up to get everyone's attention. "Let's just forget about the award and go back to writing stories for fun." It took her a bit of time to convince everyone, but in the end they all agreed that they'd forgo the award and just have a big party on the next weekend.

Scully sat on the couch, partly miffed and partly relieved. Holly sat next to her. "Come on, Dana, let's go."

Scully smiled. "OK. And can we stop at Le Produce on the way?"

"Of course." Holly licked her lips. "But don't get that fat-free dressing this time, all right?"

So Scully went home with Holly and did some very intense research and felt a lot better.

But the next time she was in Mulder's apartment, she dropped the Bawdy Award and broke it.


Whose story would you most like to read? Let me know at prillalar@geocities.com