Disclaimer
I don't own the X-Men, I don't own Crisco, I don't own a flushing toilet, I don't own a car, I don't own the state of Texas, and I don't own Woody Allen. I do own a large stash of cashews and the remains of the my squirrelly grandpa, Mr. Smitty. If you sue me, this is what you get. Not that I mind, Grandpa Smitty is starting to smell bad.
Warning
These don't act like the real X-Men because they're being acted out by rapid hamsters. It was all I could afford on a $2 a year salary. Almonds don't sell like they used to.
Thanksgiving, The Crisco Kind
"Holy Shit! Rogue, what the hell is this turkey stuffed with?" Scott screams.
"Just an ol'family recipe, sugah," she replies, "Somethin' wrong wit it?"
"No, it just tastes like SHIT!" Scott replied, like the ass he is.
"What do you, mean? Let me look! Oh my Gawd! Wolverine, I am goin' beat your ass!" Rouge screeches.
"What do you mean, darlin? Oh, you found 'em. I have been lookin' all over for those panties. Next time me, Kitty, n' Jean go at it, I'll make them clean up after themselves. God, you haven't lived till you have seen how many different ways Kitty can use a lamp."
"What the Hell! Logan, I am going to kick the fuckin' shit out of you!" Scott rants. "I am going to rip your fuckin' liver out and toast it. You, son of a bitch! You sick bastard. Why didn't you ask me to join in?"
The Professor walked like a seal, into the middle of the room and says, "Oh, my."
"Professor, um, where is your hover chair?" asked Scott.
"Oh, my."
"Chuck, why do you reek of Psylocke's perfume."
Psylocke comes into the room in Professor X's hover-chair half naked, dragging Warren.
"Come on back Professor, we still haven't played Pop Goes the Weasel," Psylocke says.
"Oh, not that again. God, Betsy, you have no imagination," says Warren.
"Oh, my."
Jean walks into the rooms moments later, and yells, "Wolverine, did you get the spatula? Kitty is having problems pulling out the lightbulb."
"Yeah, just thought I'd pick up some other stuff too," Wolverine calls back.
"Oh, in that case, go get some Crisco and get Scott. You need to see him when I…with Crisco," Jean says.
"Yeah baby! I love Crisco!" Scott screams over and over again.
"Oh, my."
"That's it! I'm neva gonna spend Thanksgivin' with y'all again. Come on Remy, let's go. Remy? Remy get your tongue off that lightbulb!"
The End
I don't own the X-Men, I don't own Crisco, I don't own a flushing toilet, I don't own a car, I don't own the state of Texas, and I don't own Woody Allen. I do own a large stash of cashews and the remains of the my squirrelly grandpa, Mr. Smitty. If you sue me, this is what you get. Not that I mind, Grandpa Smitty is starting to smell bad.
Warning
These don't act like the real X-Men because they're being acted out by rapid hamsters. It was all I could afford on a $2 a year salary. Almonds don't sell like they used to.
Thanksgiving, The Crisco Kind
"Holy Shit! Rogue, what the hell is this turkey stuffed with?" Scott screams.
"Just an ol'family recipe, sugah," she replies, "Somethin' wrong wit it?"
"No, it just tastes like SHIT!" Scott replied, like the ass he is.
"What do you, mean? Let me look! Oh my Gawd! Wolverine, I am goin' beat your ass!" Rouge screeches.
"What do you mean, darlin? Oh, you found 'em. I have been lookin' all over for those panties. Next time me, Kitty, n' Jean go at it, I'll make them clean up after themselves. God, you haven't lived till you have seen how many different ways Kitty can use a lamp."
"What the Hell! Logan, I am going to kick the fuckin' shit out of you!" Scott rants. "I am going to rip your fuckin' liver out and toast it. You, son of a bitch! You sick bastard. Why didn't you ask me to join in?"
The Professor walked like a seal, into the middle of the room and says, "Oh, my."
"Professor, um, where is your hover chair?" asked Scott.
"Oh, my."
"Chuck, why do you reek of Psylocke's perfume."
Psylocke comes into the room in Professor X's hover-chair half naked, dragging Warren.
"Come on back Professor, we still haven't played Pop Goes the Weasel," Psylocke says.
"Oh, not that again. God, Betsy, you have no imagination," says Warren.
"Oh, my."
Jean walks into the rooms moments later, and yells, "Wolverine, did you get the spatula? Kitty is having problems pulling out the lightbulb."
"Yeah, just thought I'd pick up some other stuff too," Wolverine calls back.
"Oh, in that case, go get some Crisco and get Scott. You need to see him when I…with Crisco," Jean says.
"Yeah baby! I love Crisco!" Scott screams over and over again.
"Oh, my."
"That's it! I'm neva gonna spend Thanksgivin' with y'all again. Come on Remy, let's go. Remy? Remy get your tongue off that lightbulb!"
The End