The characters, plotlines, quotes, etc. included here are owned by Chris Carter and 1013 Productions, all rights reserved. The following transcript is in no way a substitute for the show "The X Files" and is merely meant as a homage. This transcript is not authorized or endorsed by Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, or Fox Entertainment. It was painstakingly typed out by CarriK and made available for your personal enjoyment by me, DrWeesh from my website, The X Files Transcripts Archive


(Self-storage facility. JAY GILMORE, a large balding man of about 40, is driving around the complex in a covered golf cart, something he probably does all day. He seems to be impressed with his power as the owner of this very important business. He speaks into a radio loudly and incessantly.)

JAY GILMORE: Anson? Anson, where are you, Anson? Anson, come back, Anson. Anson. Calling Anson. Where are you, Anson? Anson! Anson, calling Anson. Where are you, Anson? Anson! Where are you, Anson?

(ANSON STOKES, mid-twenties, is sitting in the shade of an empty storage unit looking through a catalogue of luxury yachts. He ignores the squawking radio beside him. The golf cart passes, then reverses and stops.)

JAY GILMORE: Anson! Get out here.

(ANSON STOKES reluctantly walks over to the golf cart.)

JAY GILMORE: I warned you about your attitude. Did you clean out 407? No... of course you haven't cleaned out 407. You've only had all damn morning. You think you're ever going to own any of those boats in that magazine the way you're going, huh? Do you think you're ever going to amount to anything? You can't even finish a simple job.

ANSON STOKES: A monkey could do this job, right, Jay?

JAY GILMORE: Well, you can't, so what's that say about you?

ANSON STOKES: (muttering under his breath) Oh, shut up.

JAY GILMORE: Excuse me? I didn't catch that. You clean out 407. You move out that deadbeat's stuff, and you do it now. And when I come back in an hour, it better be done.

(JAY GILMORE drives off in his little cart. ANSON STOKES, glares at him. He cuts the lock off of the storage unit 407 and opens the roll-up door. The unit is full of dusty and spiderweb covered furniture. He reluctantly starts to move a rolled up carpet. It moves and a sound comes from inside it. Surprised, he drops it, and grabs the lockcutters for protection. He cautiously unrolls the carpet. A dark-haired woman, thirties, dressed all in black is inside the rug. There is a small glittering jewel type thing at the corner of her right eyes. She lies still a moment, then her eyes pop open.)

(Later, JAY GILMORE arrives back at 407 on his golf cart. ANSON STOKES' radio is lying on the pavement.)

JAY GILMORE: Anson... Anson? Son of a... Anson. Anson!

(The storage unit is still full of furniture.)

JAY GILMORE: Aw, that's it, Anson. Do you hear me, Anson?

(JAY GILMORE is standing at the entrance to the storage unit, his back to us. With a muffled gasp, he raises his hands to his mouth in horror and turns around. Where his mouth once was is now just smooth, unbroken skin. He whimpers pitifully.)


9:22 AM

(X-Files office. MULDER is sitting at his desk looking through a file. JAY GILMORE is sitting across from him, his back to us.)

MULDER: Can I get you some coffee? Water? Anything?

(JAY GILMORE shakes his head. SCULLY enters the office.)

SCULLY: Morning.

(MULDER nods at her in a sort of … warning … way.)

MULDER: Morning.

(SCULLY mouths "Who's that?" to MULDER as she comes over to the desk.)

MULDER: Special Agent Dana Scully, this is, uh, this is Jay Gilmore.

(SCULLY stifles a scream, recovering quickly from the sight of JAY GILMORE's face. His "mouth" consists of raw flesh held together by stitches. It's really nasty. She forces a pleasant smile.)

SCULLY: Nice to meet you.

JAY GILMORE: Nice to meet...

(He can't make his mouth say "you.")

JAY GILMORE: Likewise.

(SCULLY crosses around the desk to stand beside MULDER.)

MULDER: Mr. Gilmore came all the way to see us from Missouri, the "Show Me" state.

JAY GILMORE: They told me you were the people to best understand my situ... My sit...

(He can't pronounce the "oo" sound.)

MULDER: It's okay. Uh, this is Mr. Gilmore's... situation. This condition came on very suddenly about a month ago.

(MULDER shows SCULLY the file with pictures of JAY GILMORE's mouthless face.)

JAY GILMORE: Anson Stokes-- he did this to me. I don't know how, I just... I know it was him.

MULDER: Anson Stokes is a former employee at the, uh, self-storage yard that Mr. Gilmore owns. Uh, apparently, there was some bad blood between you two.

JAY GILMORE: He told me to shut up! (points at his "lips") Huh?!

MULDER: Yeah. And then Mr. Gilmore was, uh... stricken...

(JAY GILMORE nods affirmatively.)

MULDER: Stricken... stricken, and Anson Stokes was nowhere to be found. He resurfaced several days later and the police wanted to question him. But he refused.

JAY GILMORE: Do you know what he said? He said they had nothing on him.

MULDER: Well, and to be fair, sir, they didn't-- they don't.

JAY GILMORE: They had to make me a whole new mouth. Do you think Blue Cross is going to pay for this? Uh-uh.

(He is so upset, he is stretching his new lips farther than he should.)

JAY GILMORE: I demand justice!

(He groans in pain, and presses a handkerchief to his weeping mouth.)


(MULDER and SCULLY pull up in a beige car in front of a trailer park. As they get out of the car, they continue a "conversation.")

SCULLY: Look, Mulder, all I'm saying is...

MULDER: I know-- this may not be a crime and this guy Stokes may not know anything about it.

SCULLY: But there is a condition called microstomia-- "small mouth"-- which is, uh, it's brought on by the disease scleroderma and it's the overproduction of collagen and it can actually reduce a person's mouth to a tiny little opening.

(She indicates said little opening with her hands.)

MULDER: Yeah, but that takes months to develop, right? It doesn't just happen in the blink of an eye. (puts his hand on her shoulder steering her toward the sidewalk) Gilmore's surgeons are stumped. They're writing it up in the New England Journal of Medicine.

SCULLY: (small grin) Well, there's always nasal aplasia-- the complete absence of a nose.

MULDER: That's a nose, Scully; we're talking mouth here.

SCULLY: Yeah, but what we're talking, Mulder, is medical-- physiological-- not criminal. Not as far as I can see.

MULDER: Well, maybe, but I still want to know why Anson Stokes doesn't want to talk to the police.

SCULLY: Mulder...

(They stop walking, and stare at the very large yacht sitting on the ground next to one of the trailers. Its flags flap in the breeze.)

SCULLY: That's a little... out of place, wouldn't you say?

MULDER: A little bit.

(Inside the trailer, ANSON STOKES is peeping out the window. He sees MULDER and SCULLY approaching.)

ANSON STOKES: (whisper) Aw, damn it. Leslie!

(LESLIE STOKES is his brother, a round faced gentle man in a motorized wheelchair with a little red flag sticking up out of the back of it.)

LESLIE STOKES: What? What is it?

ANSON STOKES: They're I.R.S. agents. They got to be. Listen, get rid of them, all right?

(With the yacht in the background, SCULLY knocks at the door of the trailer. It opens. No one is there. Then LESLIE STOKES reverses into the doorway.)

SCULLY: Hi. We're looking for a Mr. Anson Stokes.

LESLIE STOKES: He's not here.

SCULLY: Well, do you happen to know when he's coming back?

(He shakes his head. She pulls out her badge.)

SCULLY: Well, we are, uh, Agents Mulder and Scully from the FBI.

LESLIE STOKES: (nervous) Oh, the boat's... the boat's not ours. The boat … I'm... we're just holding it for someone, and, you know-- they pay the taxes on it.

SCULLY: (yeah, buddy, whatever tone) Okay...

LESLIE STOKES: Anson's not here.

(He starts to close the door. MULDER holds it open.)

MULDER: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What's your name?

LESLIE STOKES: Leslie Stokes.

MULDER: Oh, you're Anson's brother?

(MULDER looks in the house. The DARK-HAIRED WOMAN who was rolled up in the rug is standing near the kitchen looking bored idly playing with some kind of food canister. She is wearing sunglasses.)

MULDER: Hi, there.

(SCULLY leans in under MULDER's chin to see the WOMAN. Very cute.)

MULDER: We're not here to talk about the boat, Leslie. We want to talk to your brother about his former employer. Mr. Gilmore?

SCULLY: And the, uh... unfortunate condition that he's found himself in. Would you happen to know anything about that?

LESLIE STOKES: What, the mouth thing? Yeah, well, that-- you know, that's-that's just, uh, that's, like... chemicals.

SCULLY: Chemicals?

LESLIE STOKES: Yeah, you know, like, people store weird chemicals, well like... my brother one time, he smelled this weird smell? You know, he's just a guy with a meth lab, like in one of the storage units, so you know, that's actually probably something you guys should look into-- take a look into that... you know, I'm going to get going, so I'm going to go, okay?

(LESLIE STOKES closes the door quickly. MULDER and SCULLY turn away. MULDER nods his head thoughtfully.)


MULDER: Now I see what's going on here.

(SCULLY stares at him. He smiles as his nod turns into a slow negative shake of the head. She gives a little laugh.)


(MULDER and SCULLY open storage unit 407. They stand in the doorway.)

SCULLY: Well, according to Gilmore he was standing right where I am when it happened.

MULDER: Well, I don't smell any weird chemical smells. (looks at SCULLY's mouth) You still have both your lips.

SCULLY: Apparently, everything is left as it was.

(They take out their flashlights as they look around.)

MULDER: Hey... 1978. (he holds up an old calendar) It's been a long time since any of this stuff has seen the light of day.

SCULLY: Well, it's too bad, Mulder. Underneath all this dust, this furniture is really wonderful.

MULDER: Oh, well, you want to hit some yard sales while we're out here?

SCULLY: Mulder, this furniture is expensive, very expensive.

MULDER: What's your point?

SCULLY: My point is that, uh... there's a lot of money sitting around here and maybe something's missing.

MULDER: Like what?

SCULLY: I don't know-- jewelry. I mean, Anson Stokes opened up this storage unit and then he just disappeared.

MULDER: And winds up with the Titanic in his driveway?

SCULLY: Mm-hmm. There's your crime: Theft.

MULDER: That still doesn't explain what happened to Gilmore.

SCULLY: Well...

MULDER: Hey, Scully, check this out.

(He shows her a picture of a balding, overweight Seventies playboy with a scantily clad girl on each arm.)


(A DARK-HAIRED woman is also in the picture. She looks bored.)

MULDER: This woman look familiar to you?

SCULLY: That's the woman from the trailer.

MULDER: That's the –young- woman from the trailer. How many centuries now has disco been dead?


(In the STOKES' trailer. LESLIE STOKES watches as his brother paces nervously. The DARK-HAIRED WOMAN takes off her glasses and channel surfs the TV. She handles the remote with some slight disgust. It is a cheap plastic replica of a well-endowed woman, sans head and legs. The up and down channel switches are on the nipples. What prop person found that thing?!)

ANSON STOKES: Two down. Two down, I got nothing to show for it.

LESLIE STOKES: You got the boat.

ANSON STOKES: And what the hell good is that? Huh? That thing is like a big... you know, big...

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: White elephant?

ANSON STOKES: What? I'm sorry. What does that mean?

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: (patiently) It's a big expensive item that serves no purpose and is ultimately more trouble than it's worth.

ANSON STOKES: So what the hell did you give it to me for?

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: Because you asked for it.

ANSON STOKES: Fine. You know what? I can appreciate that. That's... but don't you think maybe you could've found some frickin' water to put it in?

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: You didn't specify water.

ANSON STOKES: I got to specify that you put a boat in the frickin' water? That is a given. Frickin' white elephant. I can't even pay the taxes on it.

LESLIE STOKES: Why don't you just, uh, use your last wish to get rid of it?

ANSON STOKES: You want me to put you in a home or something, maybe, right now? Because I just told you, Leslie, that I wasted two wishes, okay? And I am not... are you listening? I am not going to waste the third. All right? Come on. Come on. (He hits the TV power button, turning it off.) We got to concentrate here. Now, let me figure this out. Let me figure this out. Third wish, third wish, third wish, final wish. Hey, I'm just spit-balling here, all right? If I happen to say, "I wish," by accident, that does not count, not until I am absolutely ready, okay?

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: You could always give that guy his mouth back.

ANSON STOKES: Hey, all I said was that I wish Jay would shut the hell up. If you feel bad about what you did to him fix it on your own dime, okay?

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: (sighs) It doesn't work like that.

ANSON STOKES: Whatever. Leslie, would you help me out here?

LESLIE STOKES: (sudden thought) Uh... Money. Wish for money.

ANSON STOKES: Yeah, okay, that's not bad. That's not bad, that's not bad, but don't you think maybe we should think of something that would, generate money instead of the, actually the money itself?

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: Brains? Talent? Hard work?

(ANSON STOKES looks at her with disgust.)

LESLIE STOKES: Uh... A money machine. Huh?

ANSON STOKES: That's not... but something better. Something better. Okay, but...

LESLIE STOKES: An infinite number of wishes?

ANSON STOKES: (looking hopefully to the DARK-HAIRED WOMAN) Okay.

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: Just three boys. Settle down.

ANSON STOKES: Damn it, this is hard.

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: You know, I have a thought. Granted, it's pretty obvious.

(She dramatically indicates LESLIE STOKES sitting in his wheel chair.)

ANSON STOKES: What? What, what, what?

(She indicates LESLIE STOKES' legs.)



(She indicates LESLIE STOKES' legs again.)

ANSON STOKES: Seriously, what?

(In disgust, the DARK-HAIRED WOMAN gives up.)

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: Oh, forget it.

(ANSON STOKES has a revelation.)



ANSON STOKES: I got it. I got it, I got it, I got it. Okay. Okay. Are you ready? Because I am ready. I am absolutely ready. Okay, here goes. I wish that I could turn invisible … at will.

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: (dryly) You're kidding.

ANSON STOKES: No, no. This is perfect. Yeah, I could have an advantage that nobody else on earth can have. I can, um, you know, spy and learn secret information, pick up stock tips.

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: Sneak into a women's locker room.

ANSON STOKES: Not just that, okay? I'm talking about James Bond type stuff. You know?

(He holds up his hand like a gun. He is giggling excitedly.)

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: Your wish is breathtaking in its un-originality.

ANSON STOKES: You don't have to like it, all right? You just have to do it. Right?



ANSON STOKES: My clothes are going to turn invisible, too, right?

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: You didn't specify clothes.

ANSON STOKES: I know, but... screw it.

(Very excited, he begins stripping off his clothes. He and LESLIE STOKES are laughing. When he gets to his pants, the DARK-HAIRED WOMAN turns her head.)

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: Oh, God. Turn invisible please.

(ANSON STOKES does turn invisible, and apparently begins running around the room. LESLIE STOKES is delighted by what his brother can do.)

ANSON STOKES: (voice) Yes! Oh, man, this is awesome! Hey. Hey, brother. Hey, Leslie? I'm over here. Oop, I'm over here. Can you see me?

(He "Whoops" with glee and runs out the front door and down the wheelchair ramp, then crashes into the trashcans at the base.)

ANSON STOKES: (voice) Oof. Ow! Damn it.

(LESLIE STOKES rolls out onto the landing and sees the overturned trashcans.)

LESLIE STOKES: Anson, you all right?

ANSON STOKES: Yeah, I am. I can't see my damn feet. Look out, world! Here I come! Whoo-hoo!

(One of the cans is dented by ANSON as he gets up and runs down the sidewalk, tipping over other cans as he goes.)

ANSON STOKES: (voice) I'm invisible! Invisible, baby! Whoo!


(Inside, the DARK-HARIED WOMAN puts on her sunglasses.)

ANSON STOKES: (voice) Yes! You can't see me, can you!


(LESLIE STOKES laughs and cheers his brother on from the landing in front of the trailer. He wheels back into the trailer. The DARK-HAIRED WOMAN has disappeared.)

LESLIE STOKES: Hey, uh...?

(We now go to AnsonCam as he runs happily through the neighborhood. He tips several flowerpots over onto a car as he climbs over a wall, tips over a bicycle, then splashes through a mud puddle. A small group of pigeons are feeding on the ground. They scatter as ANSON STOKES runs through them.)

ANSON STOKES: (voice) Hey, out of my way, birds.

(Across a busy street, he sees two attractive young women trying to replace the chain on a bicycle.)

ANSON STOKES: (voice) Hello, ladies.

(He giggles and presses the "walk" button for the crosswalk.)

ANSON STOKES: (voice, lecherously) Yeah, here comes Anson. That's right. Come on, come on, come on. Change, change.

(The "walk" signal lights up and ANSON STOKES starts across the street. One of the girls stands up. She is wearing a very tight shirt.)

ANSON STOKES: (voice) All right, here we go. Need a little roadside assistance, do ya? (he chuckles) Well, not to worry. Here comes Anson.

(There is the sound of a very large engine. AnsonCam turns to the right just in time to see the truck ignoring the signal to stop, because obviously there is no one in the crosswalk. ANSON STOKES yells briefly, then splat. AnsonCam is no more.)

4:36 PM

(Same street, later. A KID is riding his bicycle on the dirt along the side of the road. He suddenly hits an invisible "speed bump," and flips head over heels off the bike and out of frame.)

KID: Whooooaaa!!!

(SCULLY stands waiting in an autopsy bay. She has a rather pained look on her face. Two MORGUE ATTENDANTS wheel an "empty" stainless steel gurney into the room. They both look very uncomfortable.)

MORGUE ATTENDANT: Can we go now?

SCULLY: Mm-hmm.

(The two men leave. SCULLY looks skeptically at the neck prop on the gurney. She leans close and gingerly reaches out with a finger. It makes contact. SCULLY stares as she follow the line of what looks like a shoulder. Without standing up, she turns and runs to the desk in the corner of the room and finds a jar of yellow powder and a brush. She dips the brush into the powder and taps it where a face would be. The powder begins to define a closed eye. SCULLY taps the brush again and continues to cover the face. She gets a silly cute grin of excitement as more of the face is revealed. She is amazed.)

(Later, SCULLY has almost completely covered the body with the yellow powder. It is ANSON STOKES. MULDER has joined her. He is looking intently at the shoulder of the body.)

MULDER: I think you missed a spot here. I can see straight through to his ass.

(She comes over and dabs a bit of powder on the spot.)

MULDER: This is Anson Stokes, huh?

SCULLY: It is. His dental records are a match. He was found about half a mile from his house. He was probably hit by a car or a truck or... something.

MULDER: And he's invisible.

SCULLY: Yes, he is.

(MULDER and SCULLY beam down at the corpse. They look like two parents gazing upon the first artwork that their four-year-old brings home from pre-school.)

SCULLY: You know, Mulder, in the seven years that we've been working together I have seen some amazing things, but this? This takes the cake. It's... it's going to change the boundaries of science.

MULDER: It is amazing, but I don't think it has anything to do with science. Remember Mr. Saturday Night Fever?

(He holds up the picture that they found in the storage unit.)


MULDER: I did a little background checking. His real name is Henry Flanken. He redefined the term "overnight success." In 1977, his net worth was $36,000, and in 1978 it was $30 million. Then there is the interesting way in which Mr. Flanken died.

SCULLY: How's that?

MULDER: Chronic morbid tumescence.

SCULLY: You don't mean what I think you mean?

MULDER: Sch-wing. On April 4, 1978, he was admitted to Gateway Memorial Hospital with an extreme priapic condition. Apparently, he was quite the specimen. They had to raise the doorframe in order to wheel him into his hospital room.

(SCULLY winces.)

SCULLY: Well, what does any of that have to do with this?

(He holds up a blown-up image of the DARK-HAIRED WOMAN.)

MULDER: Well, I think our mystery woman is the link. About whom I can find no information whatsoever. I think she's responsible for all of this.

SCULLY: But how?

MULDER: I... I don't know. But... we need to talk to her.

SCULLY: Uh, I think that I should stay here with the body. I mean, I... you know, I don't think it's a good idea to leave him unguarded. You know, this is truly amazing.

(MULDER smiles at her, understanding.)


(He leaves, and SCULLY smiles and happily looks down at the body.)


(Night. In the STOKES' trailer. MULDER is talking to a sad LESLIE STOKES. The yacht is still outside.)

MULDER: I'm very sorry for your loss.

LESLIE STOKES: Anson didn't suffer, did he?

MULDER: No, I don't think he suffered. The part about him being invisible-- that doesn't, uh, catch you off guard just a little bit?


MULDER: Leslie, there was a woman here earlier. Where is she now?

LESLIE STOKES: She's, uh... she's gone.

MULDER: Uh, let me tell you where I'm going with this. I think that woman is a jinniyah. Are you familiar with that term?


MULDER: It's the feminine for jinni-- as in a demon or spirit from Middle Eastern folklore.

(LESLIE STOKES doesn't get it. MULDER starts humming the theme song to "I Dream of Jeannie." LESLIE STOKES joins in, grinning. He gets it now.)

MULDER: Yeah, except Barbara Eden never killed anybody. All right, now in Arabic mythology they speak of these beings that are composed of flame or air but take human form. They can perform certain tasks or grant certain wishes. They live in inanimate objects like a lamp or a ring. Is this beginning to sound familiar?

(LESLIE STOKES shakes his head.)

MULDER: Leslie, I believe your brother found just such an object in the storage facility, didn't he? He took possession of the jinniyah and he made some pretty outrageous requests, like Jay Gilmore's mouth and the yacht in the driveway.

LESLIE STOKES: Oh, wait, wait. You believe all that?

MULDER: I do. And, Leslie, for your own safety-- so that what happened to your brother doesn't happen to you-- I think you should hand over that object to me right now.

(LESLIE STOKES sighs, then moves his wheelchair over to a table. He hands MULDER a hexagonal metal canister with an ornate top. MULDER looks at it possessively.)

MULDER: (reassuringly) You're doing the right thing.


(Short time later, LESLIE STOKES opens the door to the storage unit 407. He turns on a flashlight and sees the once again rolled up carpet.)

(Morgue. SCULLY is taking pictures of the yellow powder covered body with her Very Big Camera. MULDER enters.)

MULDER: Hey, Scully, come check this out.

(SCULLY does not want to leave.)

MULDER: Come on, he's not going anywhere. Come on.

(MULDER waves at her to follow him out of the room. SCULLY pushes the body tray back into the wall.)

SCULLY: (happy whisper to the body as she closes the door) Bye.

(SCULLY {presumably} locks the cabinet door and joins MULDER at a computer terminal in another room. She is adorably excited, trying to be modest, yet already deciding which outfit she is going to wear when she graces the cover of next months issue of "Pathology Today.")

SCULLY: I have a group of researchers flying in from Harvard Medical. Can't wait to see their faces.

(MULDER smiles tolerantly and hands her the container that LESLIE STOKES gave him.)

SCULLY: What's this?

MULDER: It's not what I hoped it would be. Judging from the odor coming inside, I think it's where the Stokes brothers keep their weed.

(SCULLY sniffs the container and MULDER shuts the lid and brings up a screen on the computer.)

MULDER: But that's not what I wanted to show you. Recognize him?

(He shows her a black and white image of Mussolini on a speech platform.)

SCULLY: Benito Mussolini.

MULDER: How about her?

(The DARK-HAIRED WOMAN is also in the image. She looks bored.)

SCULLY: Your mystery woman. Or someone who looks a lot like her.

MULDER: Well, the computer says it is her. I ran her through Quantico's facial recognition software and couldn't come up with a match in the known felon database. Then I took a flier and checked with the image bank at the national archives. Voila.

SCULLY: Well, even if it is her, Mulder, what would she be doing with Mussolini?

MULDER: Or Richard Nixon, for that matter.

(He shows a video of Richard Nixon also on a platform. The DARK-HAIRED WOMAN stands behind him, looking bored.)

MULDER: I don't know. Except that they're both men who got all the power they ever wished for and then lost it.


(Same night. STOKES' trailer. With a kick, the DARK-HAIRED WOMAN finishes spreading out her rug in the middle of the floor. She looks less than delighted to be back in this room.)

LESLIE STOKES: See? I told you it'd look good in here. Nice rug. How do you breathe in that thing, huh?

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: Can we just get this over with, please? Three wishes. Go.

LESLIE STOKES: Okay. Don't rush me, all right? I want to do this right. Got to be smarter than Anson was.

(He looks wistfully at a framed picture.) LESLIE STOKES: Damn it, Anson.

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: Then, can I once again offer you a suggestion?


(She indicates his legs.)


DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: This. Your disability? There was some tragedy involved here, I assume.

LESLIE STOKES: Yeah, well, yeah, it was pretty tragic, I guess. Me and Anson were playing mailbox baseball. (he chuckles) God, I miss that. And Anson's driving. I was leaning pretty far out the window there. Oh. (he laughs and indicates his wheelchair) You mean this?


LESLIE STOKES: (realization) Yeah, you're right. I could wish for a solid gold wheelchair. Man, that'd be sweet.

(The DARK-HAIRED WOMAN is over it all.)

LESLIE STOKES: I see what you're saying but you know what? There's something I want more than that.

(He gazes at his brother's picture. It appears to be a prom photo of ANSON STOKES.)


(Next morning. Morgue. SCULLY proudly leads the three MEMBERS OF THE HARVARD REASEARCH TEAM to the locked door in the morgue. She is delighted. This is her defining moment. This discovery is going to make her remembered as one of the most famous pathologists of all time. Even her father would have been proud of her at this moment.) SCULLY: You're not going to believe your eyes. I certainly didn't. You ready?

(SCULLY has unlocked the door. She opens it, and pulls out the tray. It is empty. She stares at it for a second, then nervously glances at the team behind her who are looking skeptically at each other.)

SCULLY: Uh, he's, uh... he's invisible... after all... Um...

(She laughs weakly, and puts out her hand to touch … nothing.)

SCULLY: He's in there.

(She reaches back further into the drawer. Nothing. Poor Scully.)


(Trailer. LESLIE STOKES and ANSON STOKES, still covered in yellow powder, sit across form each other at the table. The DARK-HAIRED WOMAN is also in the room, bored as usual. Each of the men has a bowl of corn flakes, but only LESLIE STOKES is eating his. Flies buss around the merely animated dead body of ANSON STOKES. LESLIE STOKES stares at him, then turns to the DARK-HAIRED WOMAN.)

LESLIE STOKES: Okay. You know what? He's creeping me out. This isn't what I asked for. He's all weird and messed up.

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: He's been hit by a truck. What did you expect?

LESLIE STOKES: I asked you to bring him back to normal.

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: You asked me to bring him back.

LESLIE STOKES: Okay, you know, the...

(LESLIE STOKES smells his bowl of cereal, then looks at ANSON STOKES.)

LESLIE STOKES: Now, he's starting to smell bad! Come on-- this isn't what I wanted! Look, he's got to at least be able to talk. Okay... You know what? That's my next wish. WISH NUMBER TWO: I wish Anson could talk.

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: No, you don't.

LESLIE STOKES: Yes, I do and that's final. I wish Anson could talk.

(The DARK-HAIRED WOMAN sighs in exasperation.)


(ANSON STOKES opens his mouth and begins one long, piercing scream, LESLIE STOKES and the DARK-HAIRED WOMAN both cover their ears.)


(Morgue. The Harvard team is long gone. As MULDER looks inside the empty drawer, SCULLY sits despondently, her head in her hands.)

SCULLY: Oh, I should just shoot myself. Oh... I was so happy. I was so excited. What was I thinking? An invisible man?

MULDER: (her moral support – he's been here) You saw it. It was real.

SCULLY: I don't know what I saw, Mulder. I do know that having that kind of proof in my hands it was just too good to be true.

MULDER: I don't think that's why the body disappeared.

SCULLY: Why did the body disappear?

MULDER: I think it was the result of a wish being granted.

SCULLY: A wish? Whose wish?

MULDER: Well, who would want Anson Stokes back? I mean, really, really back.

SCULLY: His brother, Leslie.


(In the trailer, ANSON STOKES is still screaming in horror. Finally it tapers off into a weak gurgle.)

LESLIE STOKES: Well, this is no good.

ANSON STOKES: (trembling, accusing) What did you do to me?

LESLIE STOKES: What? You're back from the dead, man. What kind of gratitude is that?

ANSON STOKES: What did you do to me?

LESLIE STOKES: I wasted two wishes on you. That's what I did.

ANSON STOKES: I can't feel my heart.

(LESLIE STOKES looks at the DARK-HAIRED WOMAN who smiles and shrugs.)

ANSON STOKES: I-I can't feel my blood. (coughs) I am yellow! I'm cold.

LESLIE STOKES: Screw this!

(ANSON STOKES shivers miserably.)

ANSON STOKES: I'm cold. I'm cold.

LESLIE STOKES: I wasted two wishes on you. And a perfectly good bowl of corn flakes.

(LESLIE STOKES rolls over to the thermostat and angrily adjusts it.)

LESLIE STOKES: There, I turned the heat up. Are you happy now? Huh? Are you happy? Is there anything else I can do for you there, buddy?

(In the kitchen, hands shaking, ANSON STOKES turns on the gas stove and breaks off the controller. He begins weakly trying to start kitchen matches.)

LESLIE STOKES: (yelling) What do you say? Maybe wipe your little yellow butt? Thanks for nothing.

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: You want to make your third wish, champ? I'd like to get out of here before the blowflies hatch.

LESLIE STOKES: Yeah, I tell you what-- my last wish is going to be for me, okay? It's going to be for me, you hear that, Anson? (yelling) I wasted two wishes on you and you don't even give a damn about that! All right... third wish. Uh... let's see, I could wish for, uh... I could wish for money. Not everybody wishes for money.

ANSON STOKES: (feebly trying to strike matches) It's so cold.

LESLIE STOKES: No, um... or there's the invisibility thing. (yelling) I guess that turned out pretty stupid huh? Anson? To be invisible! That was real smart, huh?

(Outside, MULDER and SCULLY arrive and start walking toward the trailer.)

LESLIE STOKES: Uh... X-ray eyes, maybe? No, that would be... hmm, like you said, solid gold wheelchair.

(The DARK-HAIRED WOMAN looks over at ANSON STOKES who keeps trying to strike a match. She looks a little concerned.)

LESLIE STOKES: Uh... wait, I got it-- legs!

(LESLIE STOKES beams. ANSON STOKES succeeds in lighting a match. At just that moment, MULDER and SCULLY are walking up to the trailer. It explodes violently. MULDER and SCULLY fall to the ground as debris rains around them. The last thing to fall is a rolled up rug. As it falls, we here a muffled "Ow" as it lands behind MULDER and SCULLY. They stare at it, then back at the destroyed trailer.)


(An office in the trailer park. Out the window, we see fire trucks and other emergency personnel. Inside, MULDER is interviewing the DARK-HAIRED WOMAN.)

MULDER: Would you mind removing your eyewear, ma'am?

(She takes off her sunglasses revealing the small jewel-thing at the corner of her eye.)

MULDER: Ah. Do you have a name?

DARK-HAIRED WOMAN: Not for a long time now.

(MULDER looks at her intently.)

MULDER: How about if I call you Jenn? That's short for "jinniyah."

(SCULLY enters the room.)

SCULLY: The, uh... the fire department just recovered two bodies.

MULDER: Leslie Stokes and his brother, Anson.

SCULLY: Looks like it. And, uh, Anson Stokes is visible now. (disappointed) Of course.


SCULLY: But what I'd really love an explanation for is how his corpse got from my locked morgue all the way across town to the Mark Twain Trailer Park.

JENN: Ask him. He's got it all figured out.

SCULLY: I know what he'd say. He'd say that you're some kind of a jinni from 1,001 Nights or something like that and that you grant people wishes.

JENN: Well, there you have it.

MULDER: Well, one thing I haven't been able to figure out is whether you're a good jinni or an evil one. Everybody you come in contact with seems to meet a bad end.

JENN: That's the conclusion you've drawn? That I'm evil?

MULDER: Well, possibly evil. Possibly cursed. A curse to others.

JENN: The only thing you people are cursed with is stupidity. All of you. Everybody. Mankind. Everyone I have ever come into contact with without fail. Always asking for the wrong thing.

MULDER: You mean making the wrong wishes.

JENN: Yeah, it's always: "Give me money. Give me big boobs. " (indicates her crotch region) "Give me a big hoo-hoo. Make me cool like the Fonz." Or whoever's the big name now.

MULDER: You been out of circulation a long time.

JENN: So what? In 500 years, people have not changed a bit.

SCULLY: 500 years.

JENN: Granted, they smell better now generally speaking but human greed still reigns... shallowness... a propensity for self-destruction.

SCULLY: You're saying that you have been a firsthand witness to 500 years of human history.

JENN: I used to be human. I was born in 15th century France and then, one day, an old Moor came to my village peddling rugs and I unrolled one that an Ifrit had taken residence in.

SCULLY: (not believing a word) "An Ifrit."

JENN: A very... powerful class of jinni. He offered me three wishes. For the first I asked for a stouthearted mule. For the second, a magic sack that was always full of turnips...

(MULDER and SCULLY stare at her.)

JENN: Did I mention this was 15th century France?

MULDER: What was your third wish?

JENN: My third... I pondered for a great while. I didn't want to waste it. So, finally, feeling very intelligent I spoke up and I said "Je souhaite un grand pouvoir et une longue vie." "I wish for great power and long life."

MULDER: And thus became a jinni yourself.

JENN: Gave me the mark of the jinn... (points at the corner of her eye) … right there. It's forever. Sort of like a prison tattoo.

(SCULLY rubs her temples.)

JENN: I should've been more specific. So, am I under arrest?

SCULLY: I can't think of anything we have to hold you on. And, not surprisingly we don't have any evidence of any of this, so, uh... I think she's free to go.

JENN: No, I'm not. He unrolled me.

(Both women look at MULDER. His face slowly registers elation as he realizes what this means. Close up on his face.)

MULDER: I get three wishes.


(MULDER's apartment. JENN is looking at the fish in the tank. He watches her, arms crossed.)

JENN: So your partner left the airport rather quickly. And I don't think she likes me very much.

MULDER: I don't think she knows what to make of you. I don't think I do either, really.

JENN: Well, you could always give up your three wishes. I'll disappear-- no hard feelings.

(She looks at him. He gives a little smile.)


JENN: I didn't think so. So, what's your first wish?

MULDER: Well...

(He thinks, then laughs.)

MULDER: What would your wish be if you were in my place?

JENN: I'm not you. It doesn't matter.

MULDER: But, I just... you know, I'd like to know.

JENN: I'd... wish that I'd never heard the word "wish" before. I'd wish that I could live my life moment by moment... enjoying it for what it is instead of... instead of worrying about what it isn't.

(MULDER smiles. Sounds of traffic outside.)

JENN: I'd... sit down somewhere with a great cup of coffee and I'd watch the world go by. But then again, I'm not you. So I doubt that's your wish.

MULDER: You know, I think I'm beginning to see the problem here. You say that most people make the wrong wishes, right?

JENN: Without fail. It's like giving a chimpanzee a revolver.

MULDER: This is because they make their wishes solely for personal gain.

JENN: Could be.

MULDER: So the trick would be to make a wish that's totally altruistic. That's for everyone. So, um... I wish for peace on earth.

JENN: Peace on earth. That's it?

(MULDER is now concerned.)

MULDER: What the hell's wrong with that? You can't do it?

JENN: No. I can.


JENN: It's done.

(MULDER is beaming happily. Then he realizes that all traffic sounds outside have disappeared. His face falls.)

MULDER: Oh, crap.

(He goes to the window and looks out the blinds. He runs outside. The street is full of empty cars and buses. He looks in a bus stopped at the corner of Market Street.)

MULDER: I guess I should have seen this coming! (concerned) Scully.

(He makes his way on foot to the FBI building and goes to his office.)

MULDER: Scully?

(No answer. He walks through the deserted hall in the building. Scattered files on the floor indicate where people may have been walking.)

MULDER: Hello? Hello?

(He goes to SKINNER's office. Also empty.)

MULDER: (applauding sarcastically) Very good. Jinni? Jinni, whatever the hell your name is...

(She is sitting in SKINNER's chair.)

JENN: Yes?

MULDER: What the hell is this?

JENN: It's what you asked for. Peace on earth. Listen.

(She exaggeratedly listens to the lack of sound.)

MULDER: You know damn well that's not what I meant.

JENN: You didn't specify.

MULDER: This has nothing to do with specificity. You don't have to wipe out the entire population of the whole planet just to effect a little peace on earth and goodwill towards men.

JENN: You didn't say goodwill towards men. So you expect me to change the hearts of six billion people? No religion in history has been able to pull that off. Not Allah or Buddha or Christ. But you'd like me to do that in your name? So... what? You can feel real good about yourself?

MULDER: (defensively) Did I say that? I didn't say that.

JENN: (clicking her tongue) Mm, how grotesquely egotistical of you. I bet you wish you hadn't made your first wish.

MULDER: Yes, I do, since you butchered the intent of that wish so completely. And another thing-- I think you've got a really horrible attitude. I guess that comes from being rolled up in a rug for the last 500 years.

(As MULDER rails at JENN we see SKINNER and several other agents now sitting in the conference area.)

MULDER: But we're not all that stupid. We're not all chimpanzees with revolvers. I think there's another possibility here and that's just that you're a bitch.

(JENN indicates that MULDER should look behind him. He does. JENN disappears.)

SKINNER: Agent Mulder?


SKINNER: How did you get in here?

MULDER: (extremely embarrassed) Uh...


(MULDER's office. MULDER is typing on the computer. JENN reads over his shoulder.)

(THE WISH: "Whereas, I have one wish left and desire to use it most effectively for the good of all mankind, and whereas this wish contains great potential for the betterment of life as we know it, and that equal potential for grave danger, chaos, and mayhem, let effect, a world run amok, and whereas, I must cover all bases…"

JENN: (reading) "Whereas, I have one wish left and desire to use it most effectively for the good of all mankind" yadda, yadda, yadda... "Here on this plane of existence..." Hmm... Hmm-hmm. What, are you a lawyer?

MULDER: Well, I have to be with you. I'm going to get this last wish perfect. I'm not going to leave you any loopholes. I'm not going to let you interpret this as an edict to bring back the Third Reich or to make everyone's eyes grow on stalks.

JENN: (sarcastically) Oh, geez. And I was so looking forward to that.

(SCULLY enters the office. She looks at him with concern.)

SCULLY: Skinner called me, Mulder. Is everything all right?

MULDER: You don't remember disappearing off the face of the earth for about an hour this morning?


MULDER: Well, I guess everything's okay.

(SCULLY sighs and starts walking toward MULDER.)

SCULLY: Mul...

(She turns and looks at JENN antagonistically.)

SCULLY: Could you give us a minute, please?

JENN: Sure.

(JENN doesn't move from where she is leaning against the glass partition. SCULLY takes a few more steps toward MULDER, then not hearing anything else from JENN turns back around.)

SCULLY: Like today?

(JENN has disappeared.)

SCULLY: Wh … Where the hell did she go?

(MULDER does the "I Dream of Jeannie" arm cross and head boink.)

MULDER: Boink!

SCULLY: No... It's got to be hypnotism or mesmerism or … something.

MULDER: Scully, it is what it is. You examined an invisible body, remember?

SCULLY: I thought I did.

MULDER: (rolling his head in frustrated disgust) Oh!

SCULLY: Mulder, all right, say... say that you're right. Say this is what it is. Then what you're doing is extraordinarily dangerous. I mean, you even said that yourself.

MULDER: The trick is to be specific. To make the wish perfect. That way, everyone is going to benefit. It's going to be a safer world, a happier world. There's going to be food for everyone, freedom for everyone, the end of the tyranny of the powerful over the weak. Am I leaving anything out?

SCULLY: (wistfully) It sounds wonderful.

MULDER: Then what's the problem?

SCULLY: Maybe it's the whole point of our lives here, Mulder-- to achieve that. Maybe it's a process that one man shouldn't try and circumvent with a single wish.

(SCULLY hesitates a moment, then sighs and leaves the office. MULDER goes back to the computer and types. JENN appears behind him.)

JENN: You ready?

MULDER: Yeah, I'm ready.

(MULDER closes the program and turns off the monitor, then turns to face JENN. She smiles.)


(MULDER's apartment. MULDER puts a videotape in his machine. The screen displays the FBI warning as he picks up a bowl of popcorn and crosses to sit beside SCULLY on the couch.)

MULDER: I can't believe you don't want butter on your popcorn. Uggh. It's un- American.

(SCULLY looks at the video tape case.)

SCULLY: Caddyshack," Mulder?

MULDER: It's a classic American movie.

(SCULLY slumps back against the couch and opens her Shiner Bock beer.)

SCULLY: That's what every guy says. It's a guy movie.

MULDER: Okay, when you invite me over to your place we can watch Steel Magnolias.

(SCULLY tosses her beer cap across the room and with a "clink" it lands in what ever it was she was aiming for. MULDER, having also opened a beer, tosses his cap in the same direction. SCULLY giggles into her beer as we hear the cap thud to the ground.)

SCULLY: So, uh... What's the occasion?

MULDER: I don't know. Just felt like the thing to do. Cheers.

SCULLY: Cheers.

(They tap bottles and take a sip of beer.)

MULDER: I don't know if you noticed but, um, I never made the world a happier place.

SCULLY: Well, I'm fairly happy. That's something.

(They smile at each other.)

ANNOUNCER MAN ON VIDEO TAPE WITH NO PREVIEWS: And now, our feature presentation.

SCULLY: So what was your final wish, anyway?

(MULDER looks at her for a long moment. All of her. Then he smiles happily and takes another swig of his beer as the Kenny Loggins movie theme starts: )


I'm all right...



(JENN is sitting in a coffee shop on a Washington, DC street. The jewel is missing from the corner of her eye. She watches people walking by the window. A WAITRESS sets a round coffee cup in front of her.)

WAITRESS: Here you go.

(JENN takes a sip. She looks very happy.)

[Fade to black]


Return to the Scripts Page