And when a furious Evan had spiked his way through the flimsy wooden door of the crumbling Victorian the Brotherhood members were forced to call home, Pietro, who'd been on the phone with that nice DJ--what was his name again? Umberto? Chimichanga?--arranging humiliating song dedications for the next week, decided to do the smartest thing possible. Now, since Pie-Pie is such a smart little boy, he knew that the smartest thing possible to do at the moment was to, frankly, split! Get the hell out! Go somewhere safe! And the safest place was, of course, the newly Blob-proofed kitchen that he and Lance had worked so hard on for the past six weeks.
Now, Evan had screeched to
a halt in front of the Blob-proofed kitchen, slamming his shoulders against
the door and shooting off half a dozen spikes of different shapes and sizes.
Pietro smirked in satisfaction, when he saw that all of Evan's weight combined
could hardly make a dent on the Blob-proofed door, and all of Evan's spikes
combined barely scratched the titanium walls.
"Hah! I got you beat, Daniels,
you can't get in! Youcan'tgetinyoucan'tgetinyoucan'tgetin!" Pietro gloated,
and, in the privacy of his very safe Blob-proofed kitchen, proceeded to
do a little victory dance. Just then, a dismayingly familiar, high-pitched
feminine voice spoke up.
"Like, don't be so sure,
you big jerk!"
Pietro froze amidst his newly-dubbed Maximoff Wiggle, as Kitty, holding
Evan's arm, phased the both of them through the supposedly impregnable
fortress that was the Brotherhood's Blob-proofed kitchen. Now, remember
that Pie-Pie is, after all, a very smart boy, so he reacted in the smartest
way possible.
"AAAIIIIIIIIEEEEE!!!"
Of course, this high-pitched,
disturbingly girlie squeal caught the attention of the remaining members
of the Brotherhood, who came in just in time to witness a melee that had
broken out amidst all the messy piles of jelly-filled doughnuts and half-eaten
pizzas. How did they get in, you ask, since, after all, the kitchen had
been Blob-proofed. Well, let's just say that Lance and Pietro forgot to
take into account the only female member of the Brotherhood, and her ability
to create homemade bombs within a fraction of a second. So, anyway, the
three remaining members of said Brotherhood watched in immense amusement,
as Pietro got his ass handed to him on a silver platter by Evan, and, every
now and then, Kitty, before Todd and Fred decided that now was the perfect
time to practice their color-commentating skills.
"And the Quicksilver ducks
a punch by the Porcupine, a.k.a. Spyke!" Todd intoned gleefully, trying
to make his voice sound as grown up as possible.
"Yes, but here comes Shadowcat,
and ouch, that slap must have hurt!" Fred joined in, for once enunciating
all his words.
"You said it, and Quicksilver's
now caught in between two very pissed foes!"
"No, no, wait! Quicksilver
manages to zip out of the circle, and has now blinded Shadowcat with a
jelly doughnut to the face and tripped Spyke with a soda can!"
"And judging by that smirk
on his face, he's got plans to extract his revenge on Spyke!"
"That's right! Watch him
strike that superheroic pose! Spyke is now YOUR man-in-peril! Quicksilver
is trying to bodyslam Spyke like the great superhero that he is!"
"Yes, but apparently, the
Spyke-Man must have kryptonite up his ass, because the Quicksilver can't
move an inch!"
"Ah, I see all those Gut
Bomb Burgers with the Mighty Blue One have finally paid off for the Porcupine!"
"Plus, that's what Quicksilver
gets for having such a high metabolism and weighing only eighty-nine pounds!"
"Good point, my friend,
good point."
"Thank you, my friend. Ah,
now it looks like Quicksilver is going for his signature move, running
around in circles like the maniac moron that he is!"
"Yes, and it might just
work this time...And no! Spyke has now successfully tripped Quicksilver
with a, well, spike, and has him firmly locked in place."
"And now Shadowcat is moving
in for the kill! Watch that hand! She's apparently got plans to unleash
Bitch-Slap-O-Mania on the trapped Quicksilver!"
"Yes, and the Quicksilver
is now YOUR fruit-in-peril!"
"Hey! I heard that!" Pietro
protested.
Rogue stared at the sea of
elegantly-dressed youths, all the girls boasting expensive-looking, prom-night-quality
dresses, with their dates decked out in equally formal wear, then glanced
down at the tatters that Scott had flung upon her as part of her whole
"terminally ill little sister" charade, and rolled her eyes.
"Oh, gee, why do I feel
like such an outsider in this environment?" she drawled sarcastically,
as Scott nervously pulled at his collar.
"Eh heh..." he tittered
nervously, glancing around. Spotting a couple making their way over, he
quickly hissed, "Here, I'll pull them into the bathroom and you zap them.
Then we'll take their clothes."
"Scott, are you nuts?!"
Rogue hissed acidly. "There is no way in hell that I'm zapping people and
stealing their clothes!"
"But Rogue, it's the only
way we'll fit in and be able to stalk Lance and Jean without getting noticed,"
Scott pouted. Rogue glared at him.
"No way in hell," she repeated
in a clipped tone. "And this time I mean it! Seriously, I've donned hideous
eighties fashions and a stolen wedding gown for you, and I'm drawing the
line at anything after the little beggar girl costume! I mean it!
There is no way that I'm going to zap people and steal their clothing just
to fit in so you can stalk Jean! No way in hell!"
Five minutes later, Rogue and Scott promptly emerged from the restrooms, looking rather sharp clad in their wine-colored evening gown and all-black suit, respectively.
"Um, hello? Is this on?"
The captain, looking somewhat ill at ease as he prepared to deliver the
bad news, tentatively tapped the microphone. "Um...I know we kind of advertised
Creed and the Goo Goo Dolls as the headliners for this cruise..."
An enthusiastic round of applause followed his immediate naming of
the two rock bands, upon which the captain flinched and swallowed hard,
pulling at his collar as he added in a tiny voice, "But, um, unfortunately,
they had to cancel."
As the applause and cheers turned to boos and hisses, the captain quickly
added, "Yeah, you see, both Scott Stapp and Johnny Rzeznik just
happened to develop really bad sinus infections at the same time...of
course, it has nothing to do with them finding out five seconds
earlier that they were to be sharing the stage with Fred Durst of Limp
Bizkit, eh heh."
Noticing with growing apprehension that his lame excuse didn't exactly
appease the indignant customers, the captain quickly added in a rush of
words, "So, um, we've gotten the next best thing! While myself and the
crew try to weedle Bon Jovi into giving up what they're doing right now,
book a Redeye flight to this city, stand around in the freezing night waiting
for a second ride, and flying here in a crappy little helicopter and performing
in place of Creed and the Goo Goo Dolls, here's the opening act, Revolvers
N' Lilies, which is a Guns N' Roses cover band!"
A really crappy guitar intro, that would have Slash wishing for a gun to shoot both himself and the guitarist covering him in RN'L, followed the captain's words, before an equally crappy (if not crappier!) version of Axl Rose's patented nasal vocals screeched out the opening notes of Sweet Child O' Mine.
After a few minutes of grumbling,
the customers gave up holding onto the hope that either Creed and/or the
Goo Goo Dolls might show up despite Fred Durst and his poofy twenty layers
of clothing, and grudgingly glided onto the dance floor, while in the background,
the Revolvers N' Lilies lead singer screeched out, "Oh...sweet child o'
mine." In the distance, dogs could be heard beginning to howl from the
harbor. Scott, observing that Lance and Jean had also begun to dance, quickly
grabbed Rogue's carefully covered hand and pulled her onto the dance floor.
"Scott...!" Rogue began
to protest, although a hint of a blush slowly stained her normally pale
cheeks.
"Creed or no Creed, nothing's
going to ruin this night for us," Scott hissed determinedly. Rogue's blush
positively deepened, as she stammered out, almost shyly, "What...what do
you mean?"
"The GN'R cover band is
crappier than hell, and I think that singer just about busted my left eardrum,
but believe you me, after tonight, you will have steered Lance away from
his current relationship, leaving me with Jean!"
The rosy color staining Rogue's pale cheeks quickly vanished, to be
replaced by a steely look. A flash of anger and frustration streaked across
her olive-green eyes, but soon made way for a carefully guarded neutral
expression.
"Sure. Whatever. Me and
Lance. You and Jean. Won't us four make the cutest couple," Rogue muttered
wearily. Scott, oblivious to her sudden mood swing and subsequent quiet
weariness, replied cheerfully, "That's right. Tonight is so going
to be our night!"