19 ¼ Days Until Thanksgiving
"Well, thank my stars and garters, I do believe I've isolated the problem!" Dr. McCoy exclaimed, adjusting the tiny eyeglasses perched on the bridge of his leonine nose.
"Food poisoning?" Bobby asked from where he was lying on one of the institute's hospital beds.
"In a manner of speaking, Bobby," Beast said, peering over the half frames, "That analysis would be accurate. However, our particular situation is a bit more complex than that."
"Isn't it always?"
"Sorry, sorry!" Shane found himself saying to everyone and no one. He'd eaten only a small portion of the lunch he'd helped prepare (he was dieting) and even that was enough to give him a case of belly cramps severe enough to land him in the basement medical center, along with the rest of the school.
Both veteran X-men looked his way and blinked. Despite a recent round of intensive questioning that had confirmed his guilty role, however unintentional, Shane doubted either had really noticed him.
"While we've isolated the egg salad as the dish that all afflicted had in common," Beast continued, turning back to his original conversation, "we've also established that none of the foodstuff's components were spoilt nor were there any foreign materials present that would account for the adverse reactions among the student body."
"So…, no bad eggs were involved?"
Beast sighed and swept his blue-black hair smooth with a dangerous looking paw. "I would say not," he said, choosing to ignore Bobby's grin.
"Well, what then?"
"I believe,,, enantiomers were involved."
"C'mon, Doc, speak English!. What's that mean?"
"Molecules, Bobby. Which are, as you may know, composed of atoms, the building blocks of life."
"Aw, Hank! Now you're making it too simple and I still don't get what you're talking about."
"You should have paid more attention to the basic chemistry course that was provided when we were students."
Bobby smirked, "Why bother, when I knew I'd always have you?"
Dr. Hank McCoy rolled his eyes but nevertheless seemed a bit less put out than before. "To put it as clearly as I know how, Bobby, the human body functions as a highly sensitive and differential machine. It requires certain elements to perform optimally, such as oxygen, H2O, and various nutrients-"
"Is this going to be a lecture, Hank?" Bobby asked suspiciously.
Dr. McCoy paused to pout for a moment, but then resumed speaking, now taking into account the wider audience of those directly concerned who were listening in. "Allow me to try again. The human body," he ignored Bobby's wince, "is capable of detecting very small differences in the substances it requires to work properly. In our case here, it appears that certain proteins in the eggs' albumen –er let's just say 'yolk,' even though that's not quite accurate, experienced a rearrangement of their molecular structure. Now, this happens naturally in any biochemical medium, but in this particular case…."
Not even his enthusiasm for his favorite subject could protect the good doctor from the silent stares of his patients. He paused awkwardly before finally giving in. "All right, when young Shane mashed up the eggs for the salad he also 'mashed' up a component that had the potential, when altered, to give you all a severe case of indigestion."
"Was that so hard, Beast?," someone called out.
"You have no idea." The man called Beast's answer was muffled as he had buried his face in his large paw-like hands.
"Well, even I know when you're mixing things up on an atomic level – that's power," Bobby said.
"But, the question is," Beast replied, recovering his poise, "Can he ever learn to use it."
It seemed as though everyone in the vicinity was looking at him. Shane flushed and Dr. McCoy appeared to take pity on him.
"Just choose foods that don't have the potential to produce toxic stereoisomers, Mr. Edwards, and everything will be fine."
'Huht?' Shane thought before his thoughts were interrupted.
"Golden boy coming through!" Along with everyone else, Shane's head snapped around to see a boy whose skin seemed to have actually been dipped in gold standing in the infirmary door.
The boy began to move around the room, touching a hand here a forehead there. All the while saying, "I heal thee, I heal thee."
"So, what, you didn't eat any of the salad, Josh?"
Josh put his hand to his stomach, "Heal thyself."
An English lady in a nearby hospital bed, newly restored, was the next to speak up, "Imagine that, I come back from the dead – only to be slain by my own lunch."
'Back from the dead?' Shane almost didn't notice his pain evaporate as Josh stopped by to lay on hands.
Raising his arms dramatically, Elixir announced, "My work here is done," turned, and strode from the room.
"Lucky guy," a pale boy with black hair sighed wistfully.
"Tell me about it."
Suddenly the mutant called Wolverine appeared at Shane's shoulder. "Congratulations kid, ya nearly wiped out the entire school. Ya know, I had three helpings myself. Nothing keeps the Wolverine down for long - I survived getting my head half-blown off – I can take your egg salad. Keep that in mind in case you decide to become a villain."
"Yes sir," Shane said, already feeling sick again despite having just been cured.
