Moulder cracked his rotted jaw back into place. “What’s so hard to believe about that? Billy Night the Wight says he saw a mailman in the Screaming Gulch behind Canker’s. We have video footage to prove it. It’s clearly normal forces at work.”

“Your problem, Moulder, is that you’re just too damn gullible.” Skully rolled the pinpoints of light in her empty sockets that served her as pupils. “The netherworld is paranormal. Nothing normal has ever been proven to occur. There’s always an illogical explanation. Always.”

“Is there an illogical explanation for why you wear a pantsuit when there’s nothing under there but dry ivories?” Moulder said with a crooked grin. “Or why you wear that red wig?”

“There is a perfectly illogical explanation,” said Skully. “I like to have something to scratch, hence the wig. I like to sport something colorful yet professional, hence the pantsuit. You might try taking the same care with your appearance.”

Moulder broke off a nethershroom eagerly growing through one of the many, many tears in his dark duster and slipped it into his maw. “Why’s that?” he said. “It’s just going to get torn up again.”

“Ugh.” Skully turned away in disgust. “Look, we’ve got a zombie or a white walker in a mailman suit to investigate. Just try to keep an unreasonable, weird explanation in mind, okay?”

“We’ll see about that,” said Moulder. “The normal is out there.”

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