On the Wall
Part III
You know all the crap. If you don't, you deserve to be beaten over
the head with a stick.
Due to new uploading policy,
or my stupidity, there might be a lot of versions of this story floating around
as I add new chapters…stick with me. Storm rules.
Jean
was in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee. It had been a long weekend. Storm bounced into the room, looking very…"Storm, are you going
somewhere special? And isn't that
you're 'I'm going to have sex tonight' dress?"
Storm looked up at Jean. "Oh, no where special, Red. Out shopping. And my dress," she looked down at the tight little black thing
she had thrown on, "is just to pretty to leave in my closet. Not like half of your clothes. By the way, I'm taking Scott's bike, I'm
sure he won't mind, and I could really use a few dollars."
Jean
sat, her coffee forgotten, her mouth hanging slightly open. "Well, sure, I guess, Ororo. I have about fifty dollars on me, I guess
you could borrow it."
"Actually,
fifty-three, and thanks, that made taking it from you much easier. Can you believe that Wolverine only had
eighty dollars in his pants, among other things?"
She
grabbed the keys to Scott's bike and began walking towards the door, her high
heeled shows making a click clack sound the entire way. "Bye hon. Don't wait up. And my depilatory
cream is in my dresser."
***
"No
wonder you love New York, Phoebe. The
shopping here is great!" Pru cried, as her eyes lustily wandered up and down
the neon-clad street. "I only wish we
had mortgaged the manor before we came, so I'd have an extra grand or two to
throw around."
The
Haliwell sisters had just arrived at Pen Strip, one of the more fashionable
places to shop in the city. They had
made a short detour to their hotel only long enough to drop off their bags and
check with Leo, who had orbed in with, discouragingly, very little
information.
"I
talked to the elders about the woman you saw, but they said they had no knowledge
of anybody like that living in New York." Pru brushed those thoughts from her mind. -this isn't time for being a witch, this is time for being a
girl…a Tommy girl, none the less.-
"Oh,
oh, look! Sale at Bloomingdales! Come one!" Phoebe half yelled, as she grabbed her two, awestruck sisters towards
the entrance of the huge department store. With a metallic whoosh of a twin pair of doors, they were in.
"This
is what I've been dreaming about all my life. Forget men, forget love, get my gold card," whispered Piper, looking at
a brown sweater a woman was pawing at.
"Ok, well, I figure that we should take care
of my clothes first, and that shouldn't take long…"
"Ha,
I beg to differ," exclaimed Phoebe.
"…so
it looks like we're in the right department for ladies clothes, so let's do
this first."
"Oh, little Miss Prudence, always making
plans. But ok, I need a pair of those pants anyway."
"Phoebe,
they're bright orange."
"No,
no, they're ripe pumpkin, my dear. Oh,
you have so much to learn."
Phoebe
and Pru dove into a rack of pants, discussing the pros and cons of each pair,
while Piper busied herself with the sweaters she had seen the lady looking
at. She ran a slim finger over the
smooth fabric, closing her eyes and imagining it on her skin. Nimbly, she scourged through the hangers for
at least ten minutes until she found a pale blue one in her size. -Finally. But I bet it won't fit.- She
turned around, to track her sisters down. What she saw was the top of Pru's head, the rest of her struggling to
support an enormous pile of clothing.
"Find
anything?" she asked with a giggle.
"Oh,
just a few things. Phoebe picked out
most of them. I decided, 'eh, might as
well trust her New York style.'"
"Right. Good luck with that. I found this sweater," she looked at a near
by rack, "and this skirt, so let's say we go try these on."
"Ok,
I think there is a dressing room to our right," Phoebe said, motioning with her
hands.
"Hey,
girl not laden with clothing, how come you, for lack of anything better, aren't
laden with clothing."
"I
decided that since I have no money, I'll only buy something if I really, really
want it, or if my sissies really, really love me."
"Aha. Evil child," Piper said, smiling. -This trip is turning out better than I
thought.-
The
three walked, with Phoebe guiding Pru, to the dressing room, where Piper and
Pru entered. Phoebe called to them as
they went in. "I'll wait out here and
be your Joan Rivers, ok?"
"Ok," called back Piper and Pru, who had
already disappeared into two tiny rooms.
Phoebe
scratched the back of her neck and slowly turned around, to admire the
store. She gasped. Standing ten feet away was the lady from her
vision, and damn if she didn't look better. Her white hair seemed to glow against the strapless black mini-dress she
wore, and her slender legs were accented by her high, strappy heels that wound
to halfway below her knee. -Wish I had
legs like that. Maybe I should dye my
hair blonde- Phoebe took a few steps towards the woman, who was scrutinizing a
slinky red top.
"Umm,
excuse me, miss."
Storm looked up and gasped. A charmed one. -Holy shit, run..wait, she won't recognize me in Ororo's body. By the way, how ya doing down there,
'Ro? Reliving the death of your parents
again. Damn, wish I could join.- Storm
reached up and brushed a strand of flaxen hair from her eyes. "Yes? Do you work here, because if you do, I'd like to see this in a size six."
"Umm,
no, actually I don't work. I'm visiting
from California."
"Well,
isn't that special. Good for you." She went back to her shirt.
-Whoa,
this lady is rude much.- "Listen, umm,
I'm a psychiatrist, and I'm working on an outreach program, and I just wanted
to let you know that if you're ever in any trouble, you can talk to me."
"Thank
you, but I don't think I'll be needing your services, if they actually are *eh
hem* therapeutic, and not something less edifying."
"Excuse
me?"
"Oh,
nothing. Jus-"
"Ororo,
what the hell are you doing?"
Both
women turned their heads to see Logan, wearing jeans, a white shirt, and
leather jacket, cradling a motorcycle helmet, jogging up to them.
"What
the hell am I doing, Logan? Why, I'm shopping. What the hell are you doing?" She asked politely. Phoebe just
kind of stood there, trying not to stare too hard at the hot man.
"How
the hell do you come off being so high and mighty, and just leaving after
we…after that?"
"Logan,
piss off. I've got better things to do
than listen to you whine, but thanks for the eighty dollars. They bought me these great shoes." She held up a Gucci bag to his face.
"Piss
off? FUCKING PISS OFF?" His gaze
sharpened as he noticed Phoebe there for the first time. "I dunno who you are kid, but get lost. This is none of your business." He muttered under his breath. "Piss off." He took a step closer to her, throwing his helmet down in disgust.
"For
once, little girl, this man is right. This is none of your business, so get your skanky ass together and
leave."
"Wait
a minute there. Skanky ass?" Phoebe
asked, moving closer to Storm.
"Oh,
I'm sorry, do you not know what that means? I should've brought my dictionary to translate for the California
bimbo."
"Ro,
cool down. You're fight's with
me."
"For
God's sake, Fuck Off, Logan. You too,
fuck off!"
Phoebe
knew her next move was childish, but she couldn't help it. She stamped on Ororo's foot. Her perfectly pedicured toenails were a
thing of the past, and chipped nail polish was all Ororo's furious eyes could
see. That was all Storm needed. She shoved her backwards, hard, using the
wind to push her up a few feet before she crashed into a mannequin.
"What
part of fuck off didn't you understand, bitch?"
"ORORO!"
Logan yelled, grabbing for her arm.
She
spun around and shoved him harder, with more wind. He flew down onto an escalator, which happened to be going
down. He took a moment to regain his
balance before running up it. In the
mean time, Phoebe stood up and clutched her head, which was beginning to
hurt. Storm coolly walked up to her and
grabbed her throat, lifting her off the ground.
"Listen, Barbie, when someone tells you to
fuck off, you better damn well FUCK OFF? Ok? Ok!" She dropped Phoebe to the ground and
smiled. "Now, where did I put my
shoes? Ah, there they are. Hey, do you think they look cute?" Storm ripped open the box and waved a shoe
for Phoebe to see. -oh man, does my
innocent have some problems.-
"Umm,
they're great!"
"You
really think so? I thought they might
be too sparkly, but…I guess you're right, they're perfect. Well, I have to go
but it was delightful talking to you, sweetie. Give me a call, I'm listed." Storm turned to leave and was greeted by a thwap to the back of her
head. Logan caught her as she fell, and
slung her over his shoulder. She was
out cold.
"Why
did you do that?" cried Phoebe. "she
looked like she was under control now!"
"Better
to be safe than sorry. She had a fall
the other day, and I think it knocked a few screws loose in her head."
"Is
there anyway I can help. My sisters and
I are all…um, social workers and psychiatrists."
Wolverine
grunted. He had ridden his motorcycle
here, and he knew Storm had ridden Cyclops's. Also, she had apparently stolen all of his money, so he couldn't call a
cab. "Actually, ya. You wouldn't happen to have enough money for
a cab, or a car?"
"We
have a rental. We'd be happy to drive
you wherever." Wolverine grunted again,
which Phoebe took as a yes.
A
little bald man with a name tag that read "Pat" approached them. "Excuse me, but someone reported fighting
going on…oh God, is she ok? Do you need
an ambulance?"
"Nah,
she's just got low blood sugar. Diabetes and all. She just needs
to be taken home."
"Oh,
all right then. Well, ask for Pat if
you need any help!"
Piper
confidently walked out of the dressing room. "Joan Rivers, it fit! It
actually fit." She looked up at the
incapacitated woman and battered looking man. "Ok, what did I miss?"
***
"Professor,
have you noticed that anything's been…a little off with Ororo lately?" asked
Jean, entering a few statistics into the medbay computer. Annual check ups for everyone in the mansion
had been last week, and since Beast wasn't feeling up to par, Jean had
volunteered to do the task with the Professor.
"How
do you mean?" Charles Xavier questioned, looking up from a clipboard. It looked like a student by the name of
Samantha had mono.
"Well,
it just seems like she's been a bit more…brash since her accident. For example, this morning she took off with
all my money, but not before insulting me."
"Well,
Jean, you know that everyone has their bad days. What makes Storm an exception to that?"
"I
know, it's just that she usually never loses control. And it's not just her moods, it's like there's a new aura
floating around her."
Charles
head snapped to attention. "An aura,
Jean? Do you detect something wrong
with her psyche?"
Jean
sighed. Out of worry, she had scanned
Storm's pysche, and despite a preoccupation with shopping, she seemed
normal. "No, nothings wrong with it. I guess I'm just not used to seeing her like
this."
Charles
smiled. "Don't worry. I'm sure she'll snap out of it in a day or
two."
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