The Secret Tapes of Dale Cooper: A Christmas Special

By Dorothy Marley

Rating: PG
Pairing: Cooper/Rosenfield

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December 23, 1986, 8 p.m.

I have compiled a list of statistics regarding my last eight years with Albert Rosenfield.

On average, we have broken up twice a year. We have personal disagreements approximately three times a month. 60% of those involve the consumption of tobacco. We have cohabited for roughly 20% of the time period in question. Each separation has lasted approximately six weeks, accounting for roughly one quarter of each year. We have spent 92% of the Thanksgiving holidays not speaking, but so far have yet to fail to reconcile before Christmas. On average, we have sex at least once a week. Am not sure what this all means, except that I have approximately 28 hours to affect this year's reconciliation. In another relationship, roses and chocolate would no doubt suffice. For Albert, weapons of greater ingenuity are required. Believe a trip to the local gourmet store is in order.

December 24, 3 p.m.

Note to myself: If I should ever again consider doing any shopping whatsoever on Christmas Eve, remember these words: "Death first."

11:45 p.m.

The pursuit of love has been the human occupation for as long as members of the species have walked upright. Over the years, the language of romance has evolved into a complex algorithm of give and take, of compromise and determination. I have heretofore neglected the role of the kitchen appliance in this algorithm. All I can say is that innovation reaps rewards, and I look forward to the dinner that Albert has promised me tomorrow. Tonight, I look forward to rewards of another nature, but which I trust will prove equally as sweet.

The End

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Dorothy

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