The X-Files, Season 6

Scully:
Mulder, it is such a gorgeous day outside. Have you ever entertained the idea of trying to find life on this planet?

Mulder:
I have seen the life on this planet, Scully, and that is exactly why I am looking elsewhere. (Scully opens a paper bag and takes out something that looks like ice cream) Did you bring enough ice cream to share with the rest of the class?

Scully:
(smugly, eating) It's not ice cream. It's a nonfat tofutti rice dreamsicle.

Mulder:
(returning to his book, disgusted) Ugh. Bet the air in my mouth tastes better than that. You sure know how to live it up, Scully.

Scully:
(continuing to eat) Oh, you're Mr. Live-it-up. Mulder, you're really Mr. Squeeze-every-last-drop-out-of-this-sweet-life, aren't you? On this precious Saturday you've got us grabbing life by the testes - stealing reference books from the FBI library in order to go through New Mexico newspaper obituaries for the years 1940 to 1949, and for what joyful purpose?

Mulder:
Looking for anomalies, Scully. Do you know how many so-called "flying disc" reports there were in New Mexico in the 1940s?

Scully:
I don't care. Mulder, this is a needle in a haystack. These poor souls have been dead for 50 years. Let them rest in peace. Let sleeping dogs lie.

Mulder:
No, I won't sit idly by as you hurl cliches at me. "Preparation is the father of inspiration."

Scully:
"Necessity is the mother of invention."

Mulder:
"The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom."

Scully:
(taking another bite) "Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may die."

Mulder:
"I scream, you scream, we all scream for"- nonfat tofutti rice dreamsicles! (sets the book down; lunges for Scully. He grabs her arm and takes a bite of the dreamsicle, breaking it; it splatters on the page)

Scully:
No-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho! (laughing) Mulder! (she looks at the page; accusingly) Mulder!? You cheat. I can't believe that you've been reading about baseball this whole time.

Mulder:
Reading the box scores, Scully. You'd like it. It's like the Pythagorean Theorem for jocks. It distills all the chaos and action of any game in the history of all baseball games into one tiny, perfect, rectangular sequence of numbers. I can look at this box and I can recreate exactly what happened on some sunny summer day back in 1947. It's like the numbers talk to me, they comfort me. They tell me that even though lots of things can change some things do remain the same. It's...

Scully:
(interrupting) Boring. Mulder, can I ask you a personal question?

Mulder:
Of course not.

Scully:
Did your mother ever tell you to go outside and play? Mulder?

Mulder:
(looking at the page the ice cream spilled on; to himself) Is that ...Arthur Dales?

Scully:
Mulder?

Mulder:
(fake) Ah... Choo! (fake sneezes and rips the page out; Scully pretends to be horrified)

Scully:
You just defaced property of the U.S. Government. (he grabs the page and his jacket and runs out of the office; she smiles slightly) You rebel.