A big shout-out to Aaron, because I borrowed the whole "conversations with" conceit from him this week, and also because he's funny.
New Orleans Louisiana, 5:45 PM. I don't know about you, but if my boss's office looked like this one -- totally dark, red walls, lit from below -- I'd be scared. Because it looks the Human Resources department in Hell, where Satan's minions assign people to various horrible jobs -- like stoking the red hot coals, or handing out pitchforks -- for all eternity. Anyway, Devil Boss and his minion, a woman sitting slightly behind him who looks like the lovechild of Florida Secretary of State Katherine Harris and Satan himself, watch a hapless white male they call "Jeb" awkwardly enter the room and take a seat. Devil Boss is saying something about how, if it were up to him, he'd be giving Jeb a promotion. But, with the economy the way it is...oh, I see where this is going. Jeb is getting laid off. Been there, done that. Jeb's all flabbergasted. He thought this was just an evaluation! Devil Boss is sorry. Jeb looks over at Katherine Harris, who purses her lips and glares back at him. They all stare at the walls for a minute. Thanks so much for reminding me of my own recent and painful layoff, Chris Carter! Like the skin shower of last week, I suspect this is some kind of cruel shout-out.
So, Jeb floats out of Devil Boss's office looking dazed. Katherine Harris tip-taps behind him. He wanders through the cube farm and out into the street. Well, onto the sidewalk, technically. He stands there, dazed, for a moment. Dude, go pack up your desk! Now is the time to steal office supplies! I, for example, am now the proud owner of a particularly nice stapler. My boss told me to take it, though. I mean, the company is tanking anyway. They have a pile of staplers in the kitchen, right to the pens without any ink and several half-used notepads. I consider it part of my severance. As Jeb stands there like a bump on a log, a cheesy mid-'80s sports car screeches up the road, the police in close pursuit. Jeb watches as the sports car runs a red light and smashes into a Jeep. Both burst into flames. Jeb watches (along with a growing crowd of rubberneckers) as the police yell at them to stay away from the wreckage. "Oh my God, there's somebody in there," one of the extras screams, earning her SAG card. Indeed, someone is trying to get out the sports car. When he does, his entire body is engulfed in flames. Fiery Guy walks slowly toward Jeb. Dude, whatever happened to Stop, Drop, and Roll? Fiery Guy gets real close to Jeb, and then walks right through him. Flames briefly surround Jeb. When they disappear, he stares at the street. His eyes go all flamey/ glowy/ possessed-y for a moment. He blinks, and the flames disappear. He backs away from the accident.
Later -- you can tell because he's changed his clothes -- Jeb re-enters his office. Katherine Harris is surprised to see him. "Can I help you?" she asks. He ignores her, and walks down the hall to Devil Boss. "What's up?" Devil Boss asks. Jeb whips out a gun and shoots him in the head. Wow, someone has some issues. When I got laid off, I really, really wanted to walk around the office and tell everyone there exactly what I thought of them (you know, "I hate you," "I hate you," "I really hate you," "You're okay," "I hate you," "You have horrible breath," "I hate you," "I hate you," "You're really hot, here's my number," "I hate you," "I hate you," etcetera), but I didn't actually do it! It's like this guy is possessed, or something!
Credits. So glad Duchovny is back! So glad!
8:39 PM. The police are on the scene at Jeb's office, where Katherine Harris has also been wasted. The head investigator looks like Carl Winslow from that show Urkel was on, what was it called? Family Matters. Carl Winslow is dismayed by this heartless crime! Carl Winslow is disturbed by this mindless brutality! Enter Special Agent Monica Rey-Ass, and her stupid, smiley, wide-eyed act. Note to Annabeth Gish: one can accurately portray a sense of wide-eyed wonder and open-mindedness without resorting to literally opening your eyes as widely as possible. She smiles and pops a Nicorette. She's trying to kick the habit, she says. Carl Winslow tried to quit once, too. He hated the gum. Monica's awfully freaking chipper for someone investigating a bloody crime spree. She exposits that Carl Winslow is under the impression that the killings were some kind of Satanic ritual murder. Her hair is way too dark, by the way. There's no depth whatsoever to her dye job, which makes me suspect that while the hairdresser on set might be neglecting to poof Gillian Anderson's hair as much as she used to, now that Duchovny's back, she's at least making sure that Scully's the prettiest girl on the whole show. That's something. And I think she's in cahoots with the makeup guy, because Monica really really really needs some lipstick right now. Before they shot this episode, the two of them probably drove over to The Cat and the Fiddle in the make-up guy's '96 Miata and, over several pints of Bass, mapped out their scheme to keep Gillian Anderson as good-looking as possible, in spite of their reduced ability to poof her hair and line her lips.
Hairdresser: But what about David?
Makeup Guy: He's already good-looking. Besides, he's making enough money. He can gel his own damn hair.
Hairdresser: True, true. Okay, so I'm going to dye Annabeth's hair an unattractive and cheap-looking dark brown...
Makeup Guy: ...and I'm not going to put any color on her face at all.
Hairdresser: So even though we can't spend as much time with Gillian as we did earlier this season...
Makeup Guy: ...she'll still look fabulous in comparison!
Hairdresser: We're fucking brilliant.
Makeup Guy: Shit, we forgot about Mitch!
Hairdresser: He's not in this episode. All I have to do is buff the top of his head, anyway.