I’ve found myself telling this story twice this past weekend, so, I figure it’s time to write it down. That, and it's a continuation on a theme of rednecks gone wrong. So, it's a gimme, really.
As a teenager, I was a fan of the X-Files. I watched the entire first season on the couch with the then love of my life. For later seasons, I was in college, so I’d catch them when I could. It was tough since it was on a Friday, but now and again, I managed to catch a new episode. I’d either find myself in one of the campus lounges, or I’d be perched in my desk chair, craning my neck to see the picture on my tiny 13” TV/VCR combo. Home was one of those I saw as a first run.