Just Like Walter Mitty, by V. Moseley
Date: Fri, 31 May 1996

Standard Disclaimer: Ah, come on, now, we all know I don't
own the X-Files, Mulder, Scully, Skinner, Maggie, The Lone
Gunman or even Krycek. Although I do think Cancerman is
actually in hiding as the Speaker of the Illinois House of
Representatives, but, that's another story. Anyway, no
copyright infringement intended, nor will monetary gain be
pursued. Oh, and I don't own Walter Mitty, either, but I loved
the movie and Danny Kaye was the greatest! Hey, Danny,
does God still like roast tongue?

No Spoilers (I don't think) no violence, no sex, just a typical
day

Send comments to me: vmoseley@fgi.net

***********************

Just like Walter Mitty
by Vickie Moseley
vmoseley@fgi.net

"Quint. Quint, honey, time to get up," He heard his wife's
voice coming to him from a fog of dreams. "Come on, honey,
you only go into the office once a month. They're all waiting
for you," she prodded. He groaned in return and did not
remove the pillow from his face. "That's it! You asked for it
Quinten Alexander! Now, you're going to get it." He lay
perfectly still, while wondering what secret torture his
beautiful wife had planned for him this time.

The clattering of nails galloping down the hardwood floor
of the hall was his only warning, and it wasn't enough. There
was no way he could outrun the Great Dane that jumped up on
the bed and proceeded to lick the living daylights out of him.
"Elisabeth! Get this monster off me!" he cried.

"Only if you promise to get moving," she said sweetly from
the doorway.

"I promise, I promise, just get him out of the house! I told
you when we got him that he was an 'outside dog', not an
inside one," he said, shoving the canine off the bed. A wave of
his wife's hand and 'Cuddles' was safely on his way to his
backyard kennel. <Sheez, what a way to wake up,> he
thought woefully, and stumbled into the bathroom.

The hot water of the shower felt wonderful. He let his
mind drift. He really had a lot of things that he would rather
be doing today, but he knew they would have to wait. "I only
have to go in once a month, I guess I have to make the best of
it," he muttered to himself. He brushed and flossed then stood
regarding himself in the mirror. "Shave? Trim? Ah, to heck
with it," he said to his reflection and went back to the
bedroom.

"Lis, where's my black jean jacket?" he called.

"Hall closet. Hey, aren't you going to eat, first? You'll be
starved all morning if you don't get something," she scolded.

"Daddy, we have 'Apple Jacks'," a tiny voice called from
the kitchen. He smiled. If it meant putting off the day a little
longer, it was worth it.

"OK, sugar. Save some for Daddy," he called and went to
join his family in the kitchen.

"Dad, I need $11 for a new music book," a freckle faced
boy announced as he offered this father a bowl and spoon from
the cupboard.

"I just *gave* you $15 for a new music book a week ago,"
Quint protested.

"No, Dad, that was for a music *stand*. This is for a
music *book*. And I need the money today or I won't have it
in time to practice for the spring concert. You can write a
check if you want," the boy added helpfully.

"You need money in the bank before you write checks,
Andrew," Quint said sternly.

"If you're low in your account, I can make a transfer later
this morning," Elisabeth said with a smile. He frowned and
got up to find the checkbook.

"Better transfer a thousand over," he directed his wife.
"And no more last minute begging, young man. Next time, tell
me before you have to rush off to school," he added and
ruffled his son's hair to let the boy know he wasn't really angry.
He glanced at his watch. "If you get your books and violin, I'll
drop you off."

"Can I walk over to the office after school, Dad. I promise
not to touch anything," the boy said hopefully.

"Not today, Drew. I'm not at that office. I have to do 'real
work' today," Quint said playfully. "Maybe tomorrow." He
grabbed his black jacket out of the hall closet and ushered the
boy out the door.

"We taking the Mustang, Dad?" Andrew asked.

"No, not today," Quint replied sadly. "I have to keep up
appearances." The two reluctantly got in the 96 Lexus at the
other side of the garage. "It's a company car, they need to see
me drive it once in a while," he added, more to himself than
the boy.

After dropping the boy off at school, Quint arrived at the
office complex. It was an enormous building and his offices
were on the top floor. The guard's face brightened when he
entered the lobby.

"Good day, sir! It's the 15th of the month, already?" asked
the guard.

"Yeah, Henry, it's the 15th. At least it's not April anymore,
huh," Quint joked as he made his way to the elevators. <Gosh
I hate this,> he thought to himself. <But if it pays the bills. .
.>

"Hi, Hillary," he greeted the receptionist. She sat primly
behind a modern grey counter, surrounded by technology.

"Hi, Quint. You're in early this time. What happened? Lis
sic Cuddles on you?" she teased.

He gave her an exasperated look. "You can be replaced,"
he teased in return.

"Fat chance, big boy. I'm the boss' niece," she laughed in
return.

"Yeah, well, I might forget that one day, young lady and
aren't you going to law school soon," he countered.

"Two more months of this hole and I'm outta here," she
said proudly. "And then you'll have a lawyer in the family."

"Just what I've always wanted," he sighed and headed off
to his office.

His secretary wasn't at her desk, so Quint settled in to
check his mail before figuring out his schedule. Since he only
came in once a month, the day was one meeting after another.
He hated it, but it beat coming in every day, day after day. It
was a very small price to pay for his freedom.

Just for fun, he decided to check his e-mail. There was a
note from Mulder, some case in Montana had 'conspiracy'
written all over it. "Geez, Mulder, why don't you let Scully
get rid of some of that 'tension' you have all bottled up, and
get a real life," he muttered as he read the message. Thinking
for a moment, he whipped off a quick reply and forwarded the
message to a friend who had some information on the topic.
He's have an answer for Mulder by lunch.

He was in the process of reading his next message when his
secretary knocked on the doorframe.

"Sir, glad you made it. I was ready to call out the dogs,"
she said smiling.

"Too late, Lis already did that," he responded dryly.
"What's on the docket?"

"Finance committee at 8:30, sales meeting at 9:30, but they
just want 15 minutes of your time. Board of Directors at
10:00, oh, and your father is not going to make the meeting,
he's tee time conflicts. Lunch with the corporate search
committee, you still need to fill that vacancy in R&D. The
afternoon is set up with department heads. I made sure you're
finished by 5:00 so you can get to Andrew's Little League
game."

"Thanks Gracie. I better get a move on," he said, shaking
his head and gathering papers.

The phone rang at his secretary's desk as he started down
the hall. "Sir," Gracie called. "It's Mr. Frohike. He wants to
know when you'll be by."

"Remind him of the date, Gracie. Tell him I'll see him
tomorrow." And Quinten Alexander Langly III sadly marched
off to his first meeting of the day.

The end

Were you surprised? Did you think it was Byers? Let me
know. vmoseley@fgi.net