Author's Note: The usual disclaimer here... I was cracking my brains when I saw this picture of Warren and thought why not make a story of him? So, here goes..., oh, and please do you-know-what after you're done reading... ;-)
"Morning, Warren."
Warren gave Ororo a moan.
Ororo stopped pruning the hedges as the blond man walked past in front of her. "Warren? Are you all right?"
Warren stopped and turned to her. She was squatting behind some shrubs with a pair of garden shears. He waved a dismissal hand to her and started walking toward the garage.
Ororo stood up, watching Warren as he entered the garage. Soon she could hear engines roaring, and later Warren was out of the mansion inside his Honda.
Salvation comes to various people in various means. For Warren salvation meant getting out of Xavier's coop for one day and waste away the day - if not week - in some health club, a hotel with a personal gym or a lakeside retreat. Money had always been easy for him. He could always sell some Degas or that awful Kandinsky painting he had bought on a whim three summers ago at Christie's. But never the van Gogh, he added with pleasure. That somehow lifted the pain veil on his face. Never the van Gogh.
Warren hated those booming music in a car. He was sort of a selfish fellow - he wanted everything, if possible, to himself. So here he listened to the passionate strains of Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto as played by Oistrakh. (Was that his name? Warren didn't care. All he knew this was the best version.)
Already Warren could feel his spirits lighten up. Nothing like a good ride and a good music to lift one's soul. He glanced at the dashboard clock. The LED numbers said nine-thirty. Fine, Warren thought. He could do with a little walk in the nearby park eating some strudel and a glass of skim milk cappuccino.
He took a left turn at the next junction and ten minutes later he arrived at the park. The image transducer was on, so he had no need to fear people freaking out on him.
Sitting on a bench fifteen minutes later with a polystyrene cup and two apple strudels Warren felt ignorantly happy. People jogging down the crazy-paved path, a lake before him with the sun reflected on it, the clean morning air-
And he forgot to ask for sugar.
He had checked twice inside the bag they gave him but only came out with two sachets of creamer. "Must be first-timer," Warren thought almost angrily. He had been quite a regular customer at the nearby café, and almost everyone there knew his tastes and preferences.
Warren slumped in the bench. He wasn't going to let something like this dampen his perfect getaway. He looked around, doubting whether he should go back to the café or the nearer convenient store.
Warren hated convenient stores.
But the café, when he tried, didn't have the usual sugar he preferred (fat-free). So he made up his mind to look inside the store. He found later that he had to look for it, and he used to imagine that they had this stores all in order, like snacks on one row, other stuff the next.
This store was a mess. Everything seemed all jumbled up, mixed here and there. Warren got stares when he accidentally picked up a condom that was wedged in between no-fat sugar sachets. When he was sure he picked up the right one he quickly walked to the counter.
Maybe he didn't her coming or she didn't, but they bumped on each other when they walked out of opposite rows. Warren was about to apologise when from under her coat, snacks, sodas, bottled water and sardines fell out. Both were in shock and surprise, and neither said a word for a full minute.
Then she made a move toward the exit but Warren was quick enough to catch her denim coat. Surprisingly the coat slipped off her easily enough, and with a gasp she ran out of the store and out of sight.
Warren stood there, not knowing what should he do. He stared at the coat later, then turned it inside out. Bits of wrapping papers, three bus tickets and sand fell out. Warren also noticed the lower part of the coat was slightly wet and dirty.
He weighed these in his mind.
The day quickly changed from sunny to cloudy in no time at all. Certain that rain would surely come, Warren went back to his car, preparing to go back.
Someone tapped at the window.
"Hello?"
Warren looked up. It was the girl... woman. He wasn't sure where to place her. Where does one draw the line? She looked young, but her eyes proved to be older than what she seemed. And the ratty hair... She was hugging her shoulders. Warren realised that outside was getting cold as he rolled down the window.
"Give back my coat," said she sternly.
Warren stared at her as if she didn't say a thing.
"I said, give back my coat!"
"Then where you'll go?" he asked, putting his arm on the rolled down window. "Back to that pipe where you sit on a puddle waiting for the rain to stop like yesterday?"
Surprise was evident in her eyes when he said that, and Warren liked the way he was proved to be correct. She stepped back hesitantly. "What do you care?" she asked back with sluggish retort. "I want my coat back."
"Come inside," said Warren with a smile.
She eyed him suspiciously. "Go to hell," she replied as she walked away.
"Dammit!" Warren shouted from his car. "It's going to rain, you fool!"
"I am not going inside a car with someone I don't know!"
Warren got out of his car. At that instant a brief flash and a loud roll of thunder made him quickly return inside. "It's dangerous!" he shouted at her again. "You'll get yourself struck by lightning."
Rain began to fall in large drops. Warren saw the girl crouched inside a big pipe in the middle of the park. He stared at her; afraid that she would bolt off the moment he looked away.
That proved impossible, because the weather seemed to have other ideas. It continued to rain heavily with the occasional thunder and lightning. The sharp wind made everything more dangerous, and Warren wondered how long could she sit there, crouching.
Should we see how long...? Tell me!
"Morning, Warren."
Warren gave Ororo a moan.
Ororo stopped pruning the hedges as the blond man walked past in front of her. "Warren? Are you all right?"
Warren stopped and turned to her. She was squatting behind some shrubs with a pair of garden shears. He waved a dismissal hand to her and started walking toward the garage.
Ororo stood up, watching Warren as he entered the garage. Soon she could hear engines roaring, and later Warren was out of the mansion inside his Honda.
Salvation comes to various people in various means. For Warren salvation meant getting out of Xavier's coop for one day and waste away the day - if not week - in some health club, a hotel with a personal gym or a lakeside retreat. Money had always been easy for him. He could always sell some Degas or that awful Kandinsky painting he had bought on a whim three summers ago at Christie's. But never the van Gogh, he added with pleasure. That somehow lifted the pain veil on his face. Never the van Gogh.
Warren hated those booming music in a car. He was sort of a selfish fellow - he wanted everything, if possible, to himself. So here he listened to the passionate strains of Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto as played by Oistrakh. (Was that his name? Warren didn't care. All he knew this was the best version.)
Already Warren could feel his spirits lighten up. Nothing like a good ride and a good music to lift one's soul. He glanced at the dashboard clock. The LED numbers said nine-thirty. Fine, Warren thought. He could do with a little walk in the nearby park eating some strudel and a glass of skim milk cappuccino.
He took a left turn at the next junction and ten minutes later he arrived at the park. The image transducer was on, so he had no need to fear people freaking out on him.
Sitting on a bench fifteen minutes later with a polystyrene cup and two apple strudels Warren felt ignorantly happy. People jogging down the crazy-paved path, a lake before him with the sun reflected on it, the clean morning air-
And he forgot to ask for sugar.
He had checked twice inside the bag they gave him but only came out with two sachets of creamer. "Must be first-timer," Warren thought almost angrily. He had been quite a regular customer at the nearby café, and almost everyone there knew his tastes and preferences.
Warren slumped in the bench. He wasn't going to let something like this dampen his perfect getaway. He looked around, doubting whether he should go back to the café or the nearer convenient store.
Warren hated convenient stores.
But the café, when he tried, didn't have the usual sugar he preferred (fat-free). So he made up his mind to look inside the store. He found later that he had to look for it, and he used to imagine that they had this stores all in order, like snacks on one row, other stuff the next.
This store was a mess. Everything seemed all jumbled up, mixed here and there. Warren got stares when he accidentally picked up a condom that was wedged in between no-fat sugar sachets. When he was sure he picked up the right one he quickly walked to the counter.
Maybe he didn't her coming or she didn't, but they bumped on each other when they walked out of opposite rows. Warren was about to apologise when from under her coat, snacks, sodas, bottled water and sardines fell out. Both were in shock and surprise, and neither said a word for a full minute.
Then she made a move toward the exit but Warren was quick enough to catch her denim coat. Surprisingly the coat slipped off her easily enough, and with a gasp she ran out of the store and out of sight.
Warren stood there, not knowing what should he do. He stared at the coat later, then turned it inside out. Bits of wrapping papers, three bus tickets and sand fell out. Warren also noticed the lower part of the coat was slightly wet and dirty.
He weighed these in his mind.
The day quickly changed from sunny to cloudy in no time at all. Certain that rain would surely come, Warren went back to his car, preparing to go back.
Someone tapped at the window.
"Hello?"
Warren looked up. It was the girl... woman. He wasn't sure where to place her. Where does one draw the line? She looked young, but her eyes proved to be older than what she seemed. And the ratty hair... She was hugging her shoulders. Warren realised that outside was getting cold as he rolled down the window.
"Give back my coat," said she sternly.
Warren stared at her as if she didn't say a thing.
"I said, give back my coat!"
"Then where you'll go?" he asked, putting his arm on the rolled down window. "Back to that pipe where you sit on a puddle waiting for the rain to stop like yesterday?"
Surprise was evident in her eyes when he said that, and Warren liked the way he was proved to be correct. She stepped back hesitantly. "What do you care?" she asked back with sluggish retort. "I want my coat back."
"Come inside," said Warren with a smile.
She eyed him suspiciously. "Go to hell," she replied as she walked away.
"Dammit!" Warren shouted from his car. "It's going to rain, you fool!"
"I am not going inside a car with someone I don't know!"
Warren got out of his car. At that instant a brief flash and a loud roll of thunder made him quickly return inside. "It's dangerous!" he shouted at her again. "You'll get yourself struck by lightning."
Rain began to fall in large drops. Warren saw the girl crouched inside a big pipe in the middle of the park. He stared at her; afraid that she would bolt off the moment he looked away.
That proved impossible, because the weather seemed to have other ideas. It continued to rain heavily with the occasional thunder and lightning. The sharp wind made everything more dangerous, and Warren wondered how long could she sit there, crouching.
Should we see how long...? Tell me!