HAMILTON: Now, now, hold on a second. Around here, we refer to them as "very special people." Now, some of them may be different on the outside but it's what's inside that counts. And on the inside, they're as normal as anybody.

SCULLY: Until their arrests, many serial killers are considered by their friends and family to be quite "normal." If you truly regard these people as normal, then you must also consider the possibility that they are capable of committing these crimes.

HAMILTON: This is Hepcat Helm. He operates a carnival funhouse.

HEPCAT HELM: Oh man, how many times have I told you not to call it that? It's not some rinky-dink carny-ride. People go through it, they don't have fun. They get the hell scared out of them. It's not a funhouse, it's a tabernacle of terror.

HAMILTON: It's a funhouse.

MULDER: I'm sorry, I meant no offense.

NUTT: Well, then why should I take offense? Just because it's human nature to make instantaneous judgments of others based solely upon their physical appearances? Why, I've done the same thing to you, for example. I've taken in your all-American features, your dour demeanor, your unimaginative necktie design and concluded that you work for the government. An F.B.I. agent. But do you see the tragedy here? I have mistakenly reduced you to a stereotype. A caricature. Instead of regarding you as a specific, unique individual.

MULDER: But I am an F.B.I. agent.

SCULLY: Mulder, what is this Feejee Mermaid business?

MULDER: Every murder investigation begins with a list of possible suspects. You should try not to be so exclusive, Scully.

MULDER: This window. This seems to be the point of entry and there's a smear of blood on the outside of the window.

SCULLY: Why would there be blood before the attack?

HAMILTON: Why didn't the attacker just come through the open door? For a person to crawl in and out of these windows, they'd have to be a contortionist... or just plain crazy. Or both.

MULDER: Exactly how does one become a professional blockhead?

BLOCKHEAD: Starting in my homeland of Yemen, I studied with yogis, fakirs and swamis, learning the ancient arts of body manipulation. But most men know nothing of these arts. For instance, did you know that through the protective Chinese practice of Tiea Bu Shan, you can train your testicles to drop into your abdomen?

MULDER: Oh, I'm doing that as we speak.

SCULLY: Is this... man also a body manipulator?

BLOCKHEAD: No. In the classical sense, the Conundrum's a geek.

MULDER: He eats live animals.

BLOCKHEAD: He eats anything... live animals, dead animals, rocks, light bulbs, corkscrews, battery cables, cranberries...

SCULLY: Human flesh?

BLOCKHEAD: Only the Conundrum can answer that question. But he doesn't answer questions, he merely... poses them.

SCULLY: I was just reading about the fascinating life of Chang and Eng and wondering if their death was just as fascinating.

CURATOR: Oh, very much so. On a cold January eve in 1874, Eng awoke to find his brother had passed away during the course of the night. A few hours later, Eng himself departed from this world. Now, these facts themselves may be less than fascinating but imagine... imagine being Eng and lying there. Knowing that essentially half your body was now dead... that the rest must inevitably follow... and being able to do about it absolutely nothing. At the autopsy, it was officially concluded that Chang died of a cerebral hemorrhage.

SCULLY: And what was the official cause of Eng's death?

CURATOR: Fright.

MULDER: Does Agent Scully know that you're under her crawlspace?

NUTT: I was merely repairing the plumbing on this unit. I know what you're thinking, my friend, but you are grossly mistaken. Just because I am not of so-called "average" height does not mean I must receive my thrills vicariously. Not all woman are attracted to overly tall, lanky men such as yourself. You'd be surprised how many women find my size intriguingly alluring.

MULDER: And you'd be surprised how many men do as well.

SCULLY: Oh, it's you. Is Mister Nutt finished with the plumbing?

BLOCKHEAD: It's a variation of an American Indian sun dance ritual. I suspend myself by these hooks and the pain becomes so unbearable I leave my body. If people knew the true price of spirituality, there'd be more atheists.

SCULLY: Mister Swaim, we're here to take you into custody to question you about some recent murders.

BLOCKHEAD: I don't answer any questions until I talk to my lawyer.

MULDER: Who's your lawyer?

BLOCKHEAD: I represent myself.

SCULLY: Sir, if you're going to be uncooperative, I'll have to handcuff you.

BLOCKHEAD: What gives you fascists the right to do that?

SCULLY: Did I not mention we're federal agents?

BLOCKHEAD: Did I not mention I'm an escape artist?

SCULLY: Well, his body possesses some anatomical discrepancies... some offshoots of the esophagus and trachea that almost seem umbilical in nature and... I've never seen anything like it.

BLOCKHEAD: And you never will again. Twenty-first century genetic engineering will not only eradicate the siamese twins and the alligator-skinned people, but you're going to be hard-pressed to find, uh, a slight overbite or a not-so-high cheek bone. You see, I've seen the future and the future looks just like him [Mulder]. Imagine going through your whole life looking like that. That's why it's left up to the self-made freaks like me and the Conundrum to remind people.

SCULLY: Remind people of what?

BLOCKHEAD: Nature abhors normality. It can't go very long without creating a mutant. Do you know why?

SCULLY: No, why?

BLOCKHEAD: I don't either, it's a mystery. Maybe some mysteries are never meant to be solved.