You remember William Drake, that man told it was his fault Bobby was a mutant on account of passing on the x-gene? Some time down the road, he finds out that if you fuck up hard enough, even making a simple phone call gets real hard.
Don't get confused by the intertwining timelines!
Even if it's true
A
hesitant hand shakingly picking up a phone. Call
Bobby.
Middle-aged men crammed into a room, discussing their feelings upon discovering their children were mutants.
Call
Bobby.Awkward words and embarrased tales, suddenly
interrupted by a bang. A phone, dropping down again.
A female voice, a roar.
Aww, look at the self-help group of rightous little humans! Are you quite proud of yourself for abandoning your children?
Smoke, blood, and violence.
A hand.
Hey, don't I know you?
A sneer, I want a word with him.
Call Bobby.These are the monstrous creatures your sperm set into the world, unleashing hell upon you.
I said, leave him alone.
Call Bobby.Go home. Read everything you can find written by one Dr. Jean Grey. Then call him.
A flickering computer, an office, free of smoke.Why?
'Cause Bobby has this strange delusion it's possible for us to live in some peaceful mutant/human co-existenence heaven. I don't want him to lose that, much as I'd like us to fight on the same side again.
Call Bobby. A
dialling pad, remaining untouched. A terrorist made me love
you. How do you say that to your son?
angst