Part the Seventh: Red Dye 366
[Author's Note: For those of you who are unaware, red dye number 366 is
the colour most often responsible for hyperactive outbursts in kids.
This is the crux of the following tale :) ]
Hank added the Kool-Aid powder to the warm water and stirred it in. To
anyone else, mixing warm Kool-Aid was an insane thing to do, but he was
a *scientist*. The powder would dissolve more thoroughly in the warmer
liquid, which would, in turn, be cooled to more appropriate temperatures
- and diluted - by the shaved ice he planned to add. By the time he was
done, he'd have a *perfect* jug of Kool-Aid for the kids.
Hank added the ice, stirring it into ruby-red slush with a smile. He
should have made enough for everyone.
Kurt staggered in from outside. He was dripping wet and his swimming
trunks clung to his frame. "Ah, wunderbar!" He sighed, siezed the jug,
and downed its contents in one go. "Dankeshoen, mein Herr. I *really*
needed that." And he staggered back out again.
_I forgot. This is a residence full of mutants. I should have a tanker
bought in._ He let the empty packet go, completely ignoring the warning
on the back.
It said: Contains Red Dye 366. May aggravate cases of hyperactivity.
Kurt grinned as he floated in the pool. That drink really hit the
spot. He hardly felt the heat at all. He felt great. An oddity in the
Summertime, when opressive heat tended to opress him further because of
the fur coat.
In fact, for the first Summer in *years*, he felt like actually
*playing*.
And the game was *not* Marco Polo.
Grinning, Kurt took a breath and slipped beneath the surface of the
water. This was going to be fun.
"So then I said, like no *way* are you eating that. And then he like
*did*?"
"Ew," Jubilee said appreciatively. "Guys are gross."
"Some are grosser than others. It was like a PB and J crossed with a
BLT? I mean like, *gross*, right? Then he stops halfway through and adds
like, *pickles*."
"*EW*!"
"I swear, sometimes Kurt is so totally -- AIEK!" Kitty jumped about a
foot. "What the hell was *that*?"
Jubes looked around. "What? What?"
"Something like, brushed up against my leg."
"AAAAA!" Amara shrieked.
Ororo yipped.
Rogue yelped, "*Ow*! Who's the goose?"
"You were like, goosed?"
Jubilee screamed and jumped so high she practically walked on the
water for a few seconds. All the girls searched the water for the enemy,
and only found Kurt, blowing a whale-spout while he was drifting
spreadeagled in the water.
Poor Kurt. After a certain point in a Summer's day, all he did was
kind of lie there and moan. Heat was not his friend.
The only others visible were having a water weenie war all over the
volleyball court. Bobby was cheating, but no-one minded because they
welcomed the cold.
"Okay," Kitty announced at last, "That was like, strange."
"Mmm-hm," said Jubilee.
"And speaking of strange, did you know that Kurt *actually*..."
There was another scream. This time it was Rahne, and she was picking
the remains of a slushball from her hair. "You great daft muckle sumph!"
"Sor-reee!"
"Honestly. It gets to be that a girl can't enjoy a good, honest soak
in the -- *YYEEEEEEEK*!"
"*Ow*," said Rogue. "What the--?"
"Screet!"
"Yipe!"
"What is it? What *is* it?"
{Pfoooofff...} Kurt blew another whale-spout.
Jean was glaring in his direction, her arms folded. "I think I smell a
rat," she said. "A big, blue, fuzzy rat."
"You're like, *kidding*. It's after eleven. All he's like, good for is
floating in the pool and going, 'leiber Gott, it's hot' like, every five
minutes."
Jubilee shrieked.
Jean concentrated and put her hand over the water.
A grinning fuzzy menace surfaced with an insane little cackle. His
tail flipped and twisted, vigorously showering water on anyone within a
ten-foot radius.
"Just *what* is your demented little game?" Rogue demanded.
"Sharky, Sharky," Kurt grinned. "But now it's cannonball."
{Bamf!}
"Weeehoo!"
{SPLASH!}
{Blmf...} This time, the sound of his teleport was muffled by the
water. "Weeeehoo!" {SPLASH!}
This went on for a minute.
"Doesn't he like, usually have a tough time 'porting upwards?"
"Usually," Jean said. "His mind's kind of - scattershot at the moment.
His thoughts are all over the map, I can hardly make any sense out of
them."
"Waterweenies! Wheeee!"
"Damn. He's only like this at dawn," said Rogue.
"How do *you* know?"
"Oh, right. I forgot. You can actually *sleep* through a barrage of
water balloons at the crack of dawn."
"Okay. Like, that explains the recurring dream about like, bugs the
size of tennis balls like, hitting my windshield during a driver's ed
test..."
"You're really twisted, you know that?"
"Shut up, Jubes."
"Hey, girls!"
{Sproooooossshhh!}
"We're already *wet* fuzz-for-brains!"
"I wasted my weenie!" Kurt cried out in anguish, then gallopped off
with a manic grin.
"Whew," Kitty sighed. "Glad that's like, over."
Logan screamed in the distance.
Kurt came gallopping back and dived headlong into the water.
"If he starts playing 'Sharky, Sharky' again, I'm gonna kill him,"
said Rogue.
"All right! Which one of you little punks launched a water bomb at
me?"
Kitty had to giggle.
Kurt hadn't loaded the balloon with water. It was milk, and judging by
it's -er- chunkyness, it wasn't exactly *fresh* milk either.
Like anyone could get their hands on it otherwise, with Evan around.
{Pffoooooossshhh!} Kurt surfaced, blowing yet another whale-spout.
Logan went stalking off in the direction of the showers, muttering
about what he was going to do to the jerk who dumped sour milk on him.
"*Heee*heeheeheehee..." Kurt giggled, and submerged again.
"That's it, I'm gettin' out of the pool."
There was a general exodus.
Kurt surfaced again. "Awwww..."
"No Sharky, Sharky!" Jean scolded. "Bad Elf! Bad!"
"*Some*body needs a huggie," sang Kurt. {Bamf!} He was on Jean in a
cold second. "Huggie huggie!"
"AUGH! Wet fur. Ew. Getoffame!"
Kurt then proceeded to chase the girls around the pool whilst yelling,
"Huggie huggie! Youse needs a huggie!"
Storm and Jean levitated out of his range.
"There's something *wrong* with that boy," said Ororo.
{Bamf! Splut!} "Huggie!" Kurt had teleported above her and landed on
her for the embrace.
Ororo shrieked, lost control and landed them both in the water.
"WHEEEEEEE!" Kurt bounded out of the water and gambolled about the
pool edge. "*I* wants *huggies*!"
"If Wolverine doesn't kill him," Storm announced, "*I* will."
"Hug hug hug hug *huggie*!" Kurt sang, narrowly missing being
pummelled by the guys by millimetres and microseconds. "Everybody needs
a huggie!"
"*Nobody* needs a face-full of wet fur," said Scott, spitting in
disgust. "Ew. Some went in my *mouth*..."
"Kitty kitty kitty kittycat?" Kurt climbed up a tree. "Wo bist meine
Katzchen? *She* needs a *huggie*!"
Kitty quietly crept out of his sight. "Like, if anyone needs me? I'm
like, hiding in the basement."
The Professor wheeled out into the open. "What's all the noise?"
"CHUCKIE! Chuckie needs huggies!" {Bamf! Splut!}
"Ack! *Kurt*!"
"*Heeee*heeheeheeheeheeheehee..."
"I made another jug of Kool-Aid for everyone," announced Hank.
"Assuming we can keep it away from--"
{Bamf! Splut!} "Huggie!"
"--Kurt."
"Youse gets *extra* huggies for the nicenice drinkies!"
"Swell," Hank sarcasmed.
"Hug hug hug hug hug huggitty hug hug huggie..."
"Is that red Kool-Aid?" said Scott. "*Please* tell me it isn't the red
Kool-Aid from the back storeroom?"
"Er..."
"...huggie huggie huggie..."
"Aw *man*... You didn't. *Please* tell me you didn't..."
The Professor raised an eyebrow and steepled his fingers. "Scott? What,
exactly, is wrong with--"
"Kurt drank a glass of it last week. You know; right before the noodle
incident?"
"Just out of interest," said Hank, somewhat nervously. "What would two
gallons do?"
"Oh dear Lord. We have to tie him down. *Now*."
"You're no fun," Kurt complained. "*I* know someone who's fun!"
{Bamf!} he was gone.
"Great. Someone's going to get a wet hyperactive elf in their lap. How
the hell do we find him?"
"Follow the screaming, maybe?" said Jean.
"Honestly, this is the *last* freakin' time I'm taking *any* of you
loosers grocery shopping," Lance slammed the door on his SUV.
"...javajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajava..." said Pietro.
"...sugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugar..." said Todd.
"I just turned my back for a second, honest," said Fred, who had both
mutants pinned under each arm. "Next thing I knew - vtt - they were
gone!"
"...javajavajavajavajavajavajavajava..."
"...sugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugar..."
"We're just lucky nobody *saw* anything," Lance sighed, untangling his
keys. "I swear, it's a relief to get - home..."
He'd opened the front door during his speech, and was staring into the
maw of chaos.
"Holy crap on a raft," whispered Fred.
"...javajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajava..."
"...sugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugar..."
There was red sticky stuff all over the walls. It dripped from the
ceiling and spattered all over the floor. TP was draped in a quasi
artistic fashion from the light fixture. Take-out containers were pinned
to the roof with various cooking implements.
Lance dropped his keys. "...I didn't know you could *do* that with a
spatula..." he whimpered.
"Did Tabby do this?" Fred wondered.
"You're kidding, lard-brain. This isn't her style." With that thought
out of his mouth, his brain finally kicked into gear. "Shit! Tabby's in
there!" He ran into the mess, ignoring the intensly artistic things
someone had done with Spaghetti-O's, fruit loops, the mysterious red
stuff, canned ravioli and what looked to be Pietro's entire lollipop
supply. "Tabby! Tabby where are you!"
"Whoah," said Fred. "You should see what they did to the lounge room
ceiling. It's kinda pretty."
"...sugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugar..."
"...javajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajava..."
"TABBY!"
There was a frightened little whimper. Lance followed it back
downstairs, and opened the door it seemed to be coming from.
"Tabby? What are you doing in the stairway closet? Pretending to be
Harry Potter?"
Tabatha had wide, frightened eyes, a twitch under one eyelid, and a
shiver. "SHHH! You can't let him find me," she whispered. "Gotta stay
hidden. He'll get bored and go away. Yah. Go away. Nice blue. Go away.
Don' need you any mo'..."
"Tabby?"
She was spattered in the red junk, and a few noodles were tangled in
her hair.
"...the horror... the horror..."
"Who *did* this?"
Then there was one of those Classic Horror Movie Moments. Lance felt
his hackles rise. _If this *was* a horror film,_ he thought, _a thousand
violins would be being plucked to get that creepy, plicketty-plicketty
sound track._
Something was breathing down his neck.
There was a cloyingly sweet odour.
"Oh God! He's still here!" Tabby shrieked. "He's still *here*!"
Lance, despite his instincts to the contrary, turned.
"hElLo, HeLlO," there was a demented blue elf hanging from the ceiling
and devouring Raspberry-Cherry Kool-Aid straight from the packet. "HaVe
YoU cOmE tO pLaY?"
_His mutations have finally driven him insane,_ Lance thought.
Kurt grinned, showing off teeth that were stained bright red. He was
literally dripping wet, and half his face was covered in sticky, half-
dissolved powder. "yOuSe WaNtS a HuGgIe?"
_*WHY* did he pick on us?_ Lance thought.
"What the *fuck*?" whimpered Fred. "What's with the freakshow?"
"...sugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugar..."
"...javajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajava..."
"EeEeEeEeEeEe! FrIeNdSiEs!" Kurt leaped off the ceiling and landed on
Fred with a wet {Splut!} "LeT's PlAy A gAmE iN tHe PoOl!"
"Yaaaaa!!!" said Pietro.
"Whee!!!" said Todd.
"Gettimoffgettimoffgettimoffgettimoffgettimoffgettimoff!" said Fred.
"Fred! Don't drop the--"
"Whee!!!" Todd took off.
"Yaaaaa!!!" Pietro took off.
"--dweebs." Lance sighed. "I need asprin."
"*HEEE*heeheeheeheeheeheeheehee!!!" Kurt took off. "LeMmE sHoW yA tHe
PoOl!"
"You morons! We don't *have* a pool!" Lance screamed. "And quit
bouncing off the walls you hyperactive lunatics!"
"...oh, we have a pool, now," said Tabatha. Her voice was shaky and
wierd. "It's *amazing* what you can do with a few garbage bags and no
sanity whatsoever."
"Hey, Lance! You should see what's in the back yard!"
"Move over," said Lance. "I'll lock the door behind me."
"Promise?" whimpered Tabby.
Sunset.
It was quiet. *Too* quiet. Freakshow and the dweebs must have fallen
asleep by now. Or OD'd themselves into oblivion. Either way, Lance
didn't care. He had a cramp and he *needed* to pee.
That, and Tabby was starting to smell kinda rank.
Moving cautiously, he unlocked the door. No freakshow. No dweebs.
Cool. He didn't make a sound as he limped towards the bathroom, but he
certainly heard one.
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
_I am not going to ask. I am not going to think about it. I am going
to pee, and then I am going to lock myself in my room and turn up the
sterio 'till my *ears* bleed and I am definately *NOT* going to ask what
those three little freaks are up to._
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
_Yup. Just going to pee. Look at me, I'm ignoring the dweebs._
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
_Just *minding* my own business. Taking a leak. And *NOBODY* is going
to ask *ANY* questions. I'm better off not knowing._
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Oh, for fuck's sake," _I'm going to regret this in the morning..._
"What the hell are they playing at?" Finished, he ventured a look out
the back door.
It really *was* amazing what you could do with a bunch of garbage bags
and no sanity whatsoever. The 'pool' was two inches deep, at most, and
covered the entirety of the back yard. A forlorn hose spat water into
one of the larger puddles.
Freakshow and the dweebazoids were repeatedly throwing themselves in
the air from a supine position, and landing with a wet {Splut!} back
into their puddles.
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
Evidently, it was hilariously funny and endlessly entertaining. Lance
sighed. He *knew* he was going to regret looking, but he had to look.
_We're all Mystique's Lost Boys,_ he sighed. _Rags, tags and even the
fur coat, over there. No wonder she left us on our own._
"Yo, Blob!"
There was a distant, "Snrx? Whut?" from the lounge room. "Izzit time
for dinner?"
"No. Get'cher ass over here."
{Thomp, thomp, thomp, thomp, thomp,} "Whut?"
"What," he gestured at the dweebazoids, "the *hell*... is *that*?"
"Oh. That."
"Yeah. That."
"They call it 'Jumpysplat'. Way I figure it, if it keeps 'em quiet,
why do we gotta bother?"
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"We've got to *bother*, Fred, because *one* of them is an X-geek. The
X-geeks *like* that one, Fred. They're incredibly overprotective of the
little blue shag rug. *WAY* overprotective, Fred."
"Ummmm..." Fred cringed. "I thought they were havin' fun..."
"Do you have any idea what the X-geeks would *DO* if they found him
playing 'Jumpysplat' in our backyard, Fred? They would *trash* what
little of this place is actually still *standing*."
"...I'm sorry..." Fred picked at his fingernails.
"Okay. You grab Blue, I'll get Tabby out. Those two idiots probably
won't even notice we're gone."
"Okay. He's easier to catch like this, y'know? We should'a thought up
'Jumpysplat' sooner."
"Oh yeah," Lance muttered, "I can see *that* in the canned goods
aisle." He opened up the closet under the stairs. "C'mon, Tabby. We're
taking the fleapit home."
"Keepimawayfromme!"
"It's OK, Tabby. I got a plan."
Tabby had regained a lot of her confidence when she realised the
freakshow was going home. Heck, she was practically back to her usual
self.
Frightening thought.
{sniffledy...}
_Oh no..._ Lance risked a glance in the rear-view mirror to discover
that yes, the Blob was trying not to cry. "Get over it Dukes."
"But - I think he likes me..."
"You're not bonding, and that's final."
"But he gave me a special huggie."
Lance sighed. If Mystique was here, she'd frighten the crap out of him
in order to put him back in line. Lance had to use logic. "Fred, I think
he'd want to give a concrete *lamppost* a 'special huggie', right about
now."
"...icky cold," said the freakshow. "Freddy-teddy snuggy huggie."
"Ner," said Fred, sticking out his tongue.
Lance sighed. _God help me._
"Freddy-sweetheart," Tabby cooed, "We've *got* to take him back to
where he belongs. I mean, we don't know how to feed him or look after
him properly, and he'd miss all his geeky little pals."
Fred wiped his nose on his arm. "But--"
"I know," she soothed. "He's soft and warm and he likes you; but do
you really think he'd be happy in that grunge-pit we call a home?"
"He prettied it up for us?"
"It wouldn't have stayed pretty," said Tabby. "We all know that, don't
we, Lance?"
"Yeah. That ravioli was already going rank, Fred."
"*I* thought it was pretty," Fred mumbled. "And what if the X-geeks
don't want him no more? What if he's got nowhere else to go?"
"Freddy-sweetheart. A very wise person said something to me once. 'If
you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it's yours. If it
doesn't, it never was.' We're just setting fuzzy free, you know?"
Fred's bottom lip was trembling. "...okay," he squeaked.
"Hallmark poster," Tabby whispered. "Works every time."
Lance was counting in his head. _...five, four, three, two..._
"WAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!"
_One._ Lance groaned. "I swear... he's like this *every* *single*
*time* we gotta put some little critter back where we found it..."
"WAAAAAAAAHHHAAAAAAAHHH!!"
"Aw, poor Freddy-teddy..."
"Five more minutes. I just gotta survive for *five* more minutes..."
It was after dark, and Logan was still prowling the Institute grounds
in search of the elf's trail. There hadn't been a sign of him since
Scott had threatened to tie him down.
Chuck had made Hank clean out and dispose of anything that even
*threatened* to contain red dye 366, in order to stop a repeat episode,
but that hadn't bought the elf back.
Jean wasn't very worried. She said that no matter what, Kurt always
turned up for dinner. It was one of the fundamental laws of the Universe
or something.
Logan sniffed the air. Wet fur. Now *there* was a distinctive aroma,
and Kurt's unique scent made it even more distinctive.
He hardly needed his nose, though, to tell him that the enemy had him.
"(gasp) AAAAAAHHHAAAAAAHHHAAAAAHHHAAAAAHHH!!"
"Shut *up*, Fred! You want the clawmeister to shred us to pieces? Just
give us the freakboy and let's get *outta* here."
"But he doesn't wanna let go-oohoooo... (gasp) WAAAAAAAAHHH!!"
"I'mgonnaregretthis," Tabatha sighed. "C'mere, Blue. Wanna give us a
goodbye huggie?"
Kurt's voice, "Wheee! Huggie!" {Splut!}
"...ew. Peel him off and let's *do* this, okay?"
"Youse don't wants a huggie?"
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!"
"No," Lance cooed. "We're doing something *else* fun."
"WHEEEE! *Fun*! I likes fun!"
"Grab his feet, Tabs. I've got his arms."
"Ready? *Swing*! One. Two. *Three*!
"Wheeeeeee!"
"WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!"
Logan didn't see the flying elf until it was too late.
"Wolvie!" {Splut!}
"YES!" Crowed Lance. "Right in the kisser! BWA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Quick! Let's book!"
"Huggie huggie," cooed Kurt.
Jamie stopped running to tell Evan about something when he saw
possibly the wierdest thing in his life to date.
Logan stalked by with Kurt. Sort of. The demonic-looking X-man had
wrapped himself around Logan's head and shoulders and wasn't showing any
signs of wanting to let go.
"Not a word, squirt. Not *one* frikkin' word."
"...huggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggie..."
Jamie walked on. "Uh... Evan?"
"Yeah?"
"Logan just went by with the elf on his head."
Evan hadly bothered turning a hair. "It's a tough job, but someone's
gotta do it."
"AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA..." Hank
pounded on the floor, helpless in the paroxysms of laughter.
"When you're *sure* you're done, poindexter," said Logan. He was
muffled by about one hundred and seventy pounds of exhuberant elf.
Hank giggled to a stop. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he gasped. "It's just
that you look so damn *funny*. BWA-HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA...
(gasp) AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA..."
"...huggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggie..."
"Elf? Go give *poindexter* a huggie."
"HUGGIE!" {Splut!}
There was a moment of silence.
"Okay," said Hank as he convinced Kurt to 'huggie' his forearm. "*Now*
it isn't funny."
"Got that right," said Logan. "Let's secure him before he wants to
'huggie' anyone else."
"...huggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggie..."
There was light in his eyes, his head hurt, his body ached, but at
least it was cool. Kurt winced at the light and moaned. There was only
one place unsympathetic enough to shine a light into a sick person's
eyes. The hospital wing.
"*GOOOD* morning," sang some cheery bastard.
"...uhunh... loud..." Kurt groaned.
"Not a mornin' person fo' a change, I see," it was Rogue. Did she
actually get off on people's misery or what? "I can tell ya, Kitty an' I
are glad of the rest."
"...ooowwwwwwwwwhhhh..." he moaned. "Le' me die in peace, ja?
Ooowwwtch..."
Rogue snorted. "Y'all ain't gonna *die*," she said. "You'll just wish
ya *had*."
"...believe me, I already do," Kurt sighed, and made to cover his
eyes. He couldn't move. "Gott, nein. I'm paralysed."
"Nah. You're strapped down. After yesterday, we thought it was best."
"*Yesterday*? I thought I was in here for heat stroke. What happened?"
"You don't *remember*?" Rogue shrieked.
"*Owwwwww*... loud..." Kurt spent a little while whimpering. "Last
thing I remember, I got a nice, ice-cold drink from Herr McCoy... Then
it starts getting fuzzy."
{BAM!} The door slammed open. "RISE AND SHINE LITTLE CAMPER!"
"...kill me," Kurt whimpered. "The pain..."
"Y'ask me, you're gettin' *everythin'* ya deserve, ya fuzzy menace."
"I don't even know what I did. I hurt. Can't you go a little easy on
me?"
"Tell that to the bruises on my butt, goose-meister."
He opened his eyes. "I *goosed* my *sister*? *OWWW*!" He squeezed his
eyes shut. "...ohhhh, the agony. Turn the lights off, at least? Owwww...
Pity a poor, dying elf?"
"You *aren't* going to die," sighed Scott. "So you're completely over
jumping on people and yelling 'huggie', right?"
"*Vas*? Please tell me I didn't?"
Both Scott and Rogue glared at him. He could feel their gazes burning
into him.
Kurt moaned. "Trust me. I'm already paying for my sins. You don't
*have* to make it worse. Ach! What did I *do*?"
"The phrase, 'Sharky, Sharky' ring a bell?" asked Scott.
"...ooooohhhhh..."
"And we *think* y'all spent the afternoon buggin' the Brotherhood. At
least, Lance is refusing to come *near* us and Tabby's hiding in corners
and *Fred* - You don't wanna *know* what I saw *Fred* doing."
"Todd and Pietro weren't in the picture," said Scott. "But from what
we can gather, there was this little hyperactivity clambake at the
Brotherhood boarding house."
"...maybe it's better that I *don't* remember," sighed Kurt. "Is
anyone mad at me?"
"Prof. talked 'em all down. Said you had 'diminished responsibility'
and it was all Hank's fault in the first place."
"And we threw out every foodstuff that was even *remotely* coloured
red. So it better not happen again."
"The way I hurt, it shouldn't have happened *once*," Kurt winced. "The
light? Please?"
"*Good* elf," cooed Scott. "Here's a painkiller."
A pill was pressed against his mouth. Kurt practically took Scott's
fingers off, he was so eager to have it.
"It's chewable," said Rogue.
"Sehr gut," Kurt mumbled. "You watch. I'll be a *good* fuzzball.
Promise."
[Author's Note: For those of you who are unaware, red dye number 366 is
the colour most often responsible for hyperactive outbursts in kids.
This is the crux of the following tale :) ]
Hank added the Kool-Aid powder to the warm water and stirred it in. To
anyone else, mixing warm Kool-Aid was an insane thing to do, but he was
a *scientist*. The powder would dissolve more thoroughly in the warmer
liquid, which would, in turn, be cooled to more appropriate temperatures
- and diluted - by the shaved ice he planned to add. By the time he was
done, he'd have a *perfect* jug of Kool-Aid for the kids.
Hank added the ice, stirring it into ruby-red slush with a smile. He
should have made enough for everyone.
Kurt staggered in from outside. He was dripping wet and his swimming
trunks clung to his frame. "Ah, wunderbar!" He sighed, siezed the jug,
and downed its contents in one go. "Dankeshoen, mein Herr. I *really*
needed that." And he staggered back out again.
_I forgot. This is a residence full of mutants. I should have a tanker
bought in._ He let the empty packet go, completely ignoring the warning
on the back.
It said: Contains Red Dye 366. May aggravate cases of hyperactivity.
Kurt grinned as he floated in the pool. That drink really hit the
spot. He hardly felt the heat at all. He felt great. An oddity in the
Summertime, when opressive heat tended to opress him further because of
the fur coat.
In fact, for the first Summer in *years*, he felt like actually
*playing*.
And the game was *not* Marco Polo.
Grinning, Kurt took a breath and slipped beneath the surface of the
water. This was going to be fun.
"So then I said, like no *way* are you eating that. And then he like
*did*?"
"Ew," Jubilee said appreciatively. "Guys are gross."
"Some are grosser than others. It was like a PB and J crossed with a
BLT? I mean like, *gross*, right? Then he stops halfway through and adds
like, *pickles*."
"*EW*!"
"I swear, sometimes Kurt is so totally -- AIEK!" Kitty jumped about a
foot. "What the hell was *that*?"
Jubes looked around. "What? What?"
"Something like, brushed up against my leg."
"AAAAA!" Amara shrieked.
Ororo yipped.
Rogue yelped, "*Ow*! Who's the goose?"
"You were like, goosed?"
Jubilee screamed and jumped so high she practically walked on the
water for a few seconds. All the girls searched the water for the enemy,
and only found Kurt, blowing a whale-spout while he was drifting
spreadeagled in the water.
Poor Kurt. After a certain point in a Summer's day, all he did was
kind of lie there and moan. Heat was not his friend.
The only others visible were having a water weenie war all over the
volleyball court. Bobby was cheating, but no-one minded because they
welcomed the cold.
"Okay," Kitty announced at last, "That was like, strange."
"Mmm-hm," said Jubilee.
"And speaking of strange, did you know that Kurt *actually*..."
There was another scream. This time it was Rahne, and she was picking
the remains of a slushball from her hair. "You great daft muckle sumph!"
"Sor-reee!"
"Honestly. It gets to be that a girl can't enjoy a good, honest soak
in the -- *YYEEEEEEEK*!"
"*Ow*," said Rogue. "What the--?"
"Screet!"
"Yipe!"
"What is it? What *is* it?"
{Pfoooofff...} Kurt blew another whale-spout.
Jean was glaring in his direction, her arms folded. "I think I smell a
rat," she said. "A big, blue, fuzzy rat."
"You're like, *kidding*. It's after eleven. All he's like, good for is
floating in the pool and going, 'leiber Gott, it's hot' like, every five
minutes."
Jubilee shrieked.
Jean concentrated and put her hand over the water.
A grinning fuzzy menace surfaced with an insane little cackle. His
tail flipped and twisted, vigorously showering water on anyone within a
ten-foot radius.
"Just *what* is your demented little game?" Rogue demanded.
"Sharky, Sharky," Kurt grinned. "But now it's cannonball."
{Bamf!}
"Weeehoo!"
{SPLASH!}
{Blmf...} This time, the sound of his teleport was muffled by the
water. "Weeeehoo!" {SPLASH!}
This went on for a minute.
"Doesn't he like, usually have a tough time 'porting upwards?"
"Usually," Jean said. "His mind's kind of - scattershot at the moment.
His thoughts are all over the map, I can hardly make any sense out of
them."
"Waterweenies! Wheeee!"
"Damn. He's only like this at dawn," said Rogue.
"How do *you* know?"
"Oh, right. I forgot. You can actually *sleep* through a barrage of
water balloons at the crack of dawn."
"Okay. Like, that explains the recurring dream about like, bugs the
size of tennis balls like, hitting my windshield during a driver's ed
test..."
"You're really twisted, you know that?"
"Shut up, Jubes."
"Hey, girls!"
{Sproooooossshhh!}
"We're already *wet* fuzz-for-brains!"
"I wasted my weenie!" Kurt cried out in anguish, then gallopped off
with a manic grin.
"Whew," Kitty sighed. "Glad that's like, over."
Logan screamed in the distance.
Kurt came gallopping back and dived headlong into the water.
"If he starts playing 'Sharky, Sharky' again, I'm gonna kill him,"
said Rogue.
"All right! Which one of you little punks launched a water bomb at
me?"
Kitty had to giggle.
Kurt hadn't loaded the balloon with water. It was milk, and judging by
it's -er- chunkyness, it wasn't exactly *fresh* milk either.
Like anyone could get their hands on it otherwise, with Evan around.
{Pffoooooossshhh!} Kurt surfaced, blowing yet another whale-spout.
Logan went stalking off in the direction of the showers, muttering
about what he was going to do to the jerk who dumped sour milk on him.
"*Heee*heeheeheehee..." Kurt giggled, and submerged again.
"That's it, I'm gettin' out of the pool."
There was a general exodus.
Kurt surfaced again. "Awwww..."
"No Sharky, Sharky!" Jean scolded. "Bad Elf! Bad!"
"*Some*body needs a huggie," sang Kurt. {Bamf!} He was on Jean in a
cold second. "Huggie huggie!"
"AUGH! Wet fur. Ew. Getoffame!"
Kurt then proceeded to chase the girls around the pool whilst yelling,
"Huggie huggie! Youse needs a huggie!"
Storm and Jean levitated out of his range.
"There's something *wrong* with that boy," said Ororo.
{Bamf! Splut!} "Huggie!" Kurt had teleported above her and landed on
her for the embrace.
Ororo shrieked, lost control and landed them both in the water.
"WHEEEEEEE!" Kurt bounded out of the water and gambolled about the
pool edge. "*I* wants *huggies*!"
"If Wolverine doesn't kill him," Storm announced, "*I* will."
"Hug hug hug hug *huggie*!" Kurt sang, narrowly missing being
pummelled by the guys by millimetres and microseconds. "Everybody needs
a huggie!"
"*Nobody* needs a face-full of wet fur," said Scott, spitting in
disgust. "Ew. Some went in my *mouth*..."
"Kitty kitty kitty kittycat?" Kurt climbed up a tree. "Wo bist meine
Katzchen? *She* needs a *huggie*!"
Kitty quietly crept out of his sight. "Like, if anyone needs me? I'm
like, hiding in the basement."
The Professor wheeled out into the open. "What's all the noise?"
"CHUCKIE! Chuckie needs huggies!" {Bamf! Splut!}
"Ack! *Kurt*!"
"*Heeee*heeheeheeheeheeheehee..."
"I made another jug of Kool-Aid for everyone," announced Hank.
"Assuming we can keep it away from--"
{Bamf! Splut!} "Huggie!"
"--Kurt."
"Youse gets *extra* huggies for the nicenice drinkies!"
"Swell," Hank sarcasmed.
"Hug hug hug hug hug huggitty hug hug huggie..."
"Is that red Kool-Aid?" said Scott. "*Please* tell me it isn't the red
Kool-Aid from the back storeroom?"
"Er..."
"...huggie huggie huggie..."
"Aw *man*... You didn't. *Please* tell me you didn't..."
The Professor raised an eyebrow and steepled his fingers. "Scott? What,
exactly, is wrong with--"
"Kurt drank a glass of it last week. You know; right before the noodle
incident?"
"Just out of interest," said Hank, somewhat nervously. "What would two
gallons do?"
"Oh dear Lord. We have to tie him down. *Now*."
"You're no fun," Kurt complained. "*I* know someone who's fun!"
{Bamf!} he was gone.
"Great. Someone's going to get a wet hyperactive elf in their lap. How
the hell do we find him?"
"Follow the screaming, maybe?" said Jean.
"Honestly, this is the *last* freakin' time I'm taking *any* of you
loosers grocery shopping," Lance slammed the door on his SUV.
"...javajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajava..." said Pietro.
"...sugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugar..." said Todd.
"I just turned my back for a second, honest," said Fred, who had both
mutants pinned under each arm. "Next thing I knew - vtt - they were
gone!"
"...javajavajavajavajavajavajavajava..."
"...sugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugar..."
"We're just lucky nobody *saw* anything," Lance sighed, untangling his
keys. "I swear, it's a relief to get - home..."
He'd opened the front door during his speech, and was staring into the
maw of chaos.
"Holy crap on a raft," whispered Fred.
"...javajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajava..."
"...sugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugar..."
There was red sticky stuff all over the walls. It dripped from the
ceiling and spattered all over the floor. TP was draped in a quasi
artistic fashion from the light fixture. Take-out containers were pinned
to the roof with various cooking implements.
Lance dropped his keys. "...I didn't know you could *do* that with a
spatula..." he whimpered.
"Did Tabby do this?" Fred wondered.
"You're kidding, lard-brain. This isn't her style." With that thought
out of his mouth, his brain finally kicked into gear. "Shit! Tabby's in
there!" He ran into the mess, ignoring the intensly artistic things
someone had done with Spaghetti-O's, fruit loops, the mysterious red
stuff, canned ravioli and what looked to be Pietro's entire lollipop
supply. "Tabby! Tabby where are you!"
"Whoah," said Fred. "You should see what they did to the lounge room
ceiling. It's kinda pretty."
"...sugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugar..."
"...javajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajava..."
"TABBY!"
There was a frightened little whimper. Lance followed it back
downstairs, and opened the door it seemed to be coming from.
"Tabby? What are you doing in the stairway closet? Pretending to be
Harry Potter?"
Tabatha had wide, frightened eyes, a twitch under one eyelid, and a
shiver. "SHHH! You can't let him find me," she whispered. "Gotta stay
hidden. He'll get bored and go away. Yah. Go away. Nice blue. Go away.
Don' need you any mo'..."
"Tabby?"
She was spattered in the red junk, and a few noodles were tangled in
her hair.
"...the horror... the horror..."
"Who *did* this?"
Then there was one of those Classic Horror Movie Moments. Lance felt
his hackles rise. _If this *was* a horror film,_ he thought, _a thousand
violins would be being plucked to get that creepy, plicketty-plicketty
sound track._
Something was breathing down his neck.
There was a cloyingly sweet odour.
"Oh God! He's still here!" Tabby shrieked. "He's still *here*!"
Lance, despite his instincts to the contrary, turned.
"hElLo, HeLlO," there was a demented blue elf hanging from the ceiling
and devouring Raspberry-Cherry Kool-Aid straight from the packet. "HaVe
YoU cOmE tO pLaY?"
_His mutations have finally driven him insane,_ Lance thought.
Kurt grinned, showing off teeth that were stained bright red. He was
literally dripping wet, and half his face was covered in sticky, half-
dissolved powder. "yOuSe WaNtS a HuGgIe?"
_*WHY* did he pick on us?_ Lance thought.
"What the *fuck*?" whimpered Fred. "What's with the freakshow?"
"...sugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugarsugar..."
"...javajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajavajava..."
"EeEeEeEeEeEe! FrIeNdSiEs!" Kurt leaped off the ceiling and landed on
Fred with a wet {Splut!} "LeT's PlAy A gAmE iN tHe PoOl!"
"Yaaaaa!!!" said Pietro.
"Whee!!!" said Todd.
"Gettimoffgettimoffgettimoffgettimoffgettimoffgettimoff!" said Fred.
"Fred! Don't drop the--"
"Whee!!!" Todd took off.
"Yaaaaa!!!" Pietro took off.
"--dweebs." Lance sighed. "I need asprin."
"*HEEE*heeheeheeheeheeheeheehee!!!" Kurt took off. "LeMmE sHoW yA tHe
PoOl!"
"You morons! We don't *have* a pool!" Lance screamed. "And quit
bouncing off the walls you hyperactive lunatics!"
"...oh, we have a pool, now," said Tabatha. Her voice was shaky and
wierd. "It's *amazing* what you can do with a few garbage bags and no
sanity whatsoever."
"Hey, Lance! You should see what's in the back yard!"
"Move over," said Lance. "I'll lock the door behind me."
"Promise?" whimpered Tabby.
Sunset.
It was quiet. *Too* quiet. Freakshow and the dweebs must have fallen
asleep by now. Or OD'd themselves into oblivion. Either way, Lance
didn't care. He had a cramp and he *needed* to pee.
That, and Tabby was starting to smell kinda rank.
Moving cautiously, he unlocked the door. No freakshow. No dweebs.
Cool. He didn't make a sound as he limped towards the bathroom, but he
certainly heard one.
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
_I am not going to ask. I am not going to think about it. I am going
to pee, and then I am going to lock myself in my room and turn up the
sterio 'till my *ears* bleed and I am definately *NOT* going to ask what
those three little freaks are up to._
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
_Yup. Just going to pee. Look at me, I'm ignoring the dweebs._
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
_Just *minding* my own business. Taking a leak. And *NOBODY* is going
to ask *ANY* questions. I'm better off not knowing._
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Oh, for fuck's sake," _I'm going to regret this in the morning..._
"What the hell are they playing at?" Finished, he ventured a look out
the back door.
It really *was* amazing what you could do with a bunch of garbage bags
and no sanity whatsoever. The 'pool' was two inches deep, at most, and
covered the entirety of the back yard. A forlorn hose spat water into
one of the larger puddles.
Freakshow and the dweebazoids were repeatedly throwing themselves in
the air from a supine position, and landing with a wet {Splut!} back
into their puddles.
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
Evidently, it was hilariously funny and endlessly entertaining. Lance
sighed. He *knew* he was going to regret looking, but he had to look.
_We're all Mystique's Lost Boys,_ he sighed. _Rags, tags and even the
fur coat, over there. No wonder she left us on our own._
"Yo, Blob!"
There was a distant, "Snrx? Whut?" from the lounge room. "Izzit time
for dinner?"
"No. Get'cher ass over here."
{Thomp, thomp, thomp, thomp, thomp,} "Whut?"
"What," he gestured at the dweebazoids, "the *hell*... is *that*?"
"Oh. That."
"Yeah. That."
"They call it 'Jumpysplat'. Way I figure it, if it keeps 'em quiet,
why do we gotta bother?"
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"Whee!" {Splut!}
"We've got to *bother*, Fred, because *one* of them is an X-geek. The
X-geeks *like* that one, Fred. They're incredibly overprotective of the
little blue shag rug. *WAY* overprotective, Fred."
"Ummmm..." Fred cringed. "I thought they were havin' fun..."
"Do you have any idea what the X-geeks would *DO* if they found him
playing 'Jumpysplat' in our backyard, Fred? They would *trash* what
little of this place is actually still *standing*."
"...I'm sorry..." Fred picked at his fingernails.
"Okay. You grab Blue, I'll get Tabby out. Those two idiots probably
won't even notice we're gone."
"Okay. He's easier to catch like this, y'know? We should'a thought up
'Jumpysplat' sooner."
"Oh yeah," Lance muttered, "I can see *that* in the canned goods
aisle." He opened up the closet under the stairs. "C'mon, Tabby. We're
taking the fleapit home."
"Keepimawayfromme!"
"It's OK, Tabby. I got a plan."
Tabby had regained a lot of her confidence when she realised the
freakshow was going home. Heck, she was practically back to her usual
self.
Frightening thought.
{sniffledy...}
_Oh no..._ Lance risked a glance in the rear-view mirror to discover
that yes, the Blob was trying not to cry. "Get over it Dukes."
"But - I think he likes me..."
"You're not bonding, and that's final."
"But he gave me a special huggie."
Lance sighed. If Mystique was here, she'd frighten the crap out of him
in order to put him back in line. Lance had to use logic. "Fred, I think
he'd want to give a concrete *lamppost* a 'special huggie', right about
now."
"...icky cold," said the freakshow. "Freddy-teddy snuggy huggie."
"Ner," said Fred, sticking out his tongue.
Lance sighed. _God help me._
"Freddy-sweetheart," Tabby cooed, "We've *got* to take him back to
where he belongs. I mean, we don't know how to feed him or look after
him properly, and he'd miss all his geeky little pals."
Fred wiped his nose on his arm. "But--"
"I know," she soothed. "He's soft and warm and he likes you; but do
you really think he'd be happy in that grunge-pit we call a home?"
"He prettied it up for us?"
"It wouldn't have stayed pretty," said Tabby. "We all know that, don't
we, Lance?"
"Yeah. That ravioli was already going rank, Fred."
"*I* thought it was pretty," Fred mumbled. "And what if the X-geeks
don't want him no more? What if he's got nowhere else to go?"
"Freddy-sweetheart. A very wise person said something to me once. 'If
you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it's yours. If it
doesn't, it never was.' We're just setting fuzzy free, you know?"
Fred's bottom lip was trembling. "...okay," he squeaked.
"Hallmark poster," Tabby whispered. "Works every time."
Lance was counting in his head. _...five, four, three, two..._
"WAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!"
_One._ Lance groaned. "I swear... he's like this *every* *single*
*time* we gotta put some little critter back where we found it..."
"WAAAAAAAAHHHAAAAAAAHHH!!"
"Aw, poor Freddy-teddy..."
"Five more minutes. I just gotta survive for *five* more minutes..."
It was after dark, and Logan was still prowling the Institute grounds
in search of the elf's trail. There hadn't been a sign of him since
Scott had threatened to tie him down.
Chuck had made Hank clean out and dispose of anything that even
*threatened* to contain red dye 366, in order to stop a repeat episode,
but that hadn't bought the elf back.
Jean wasn't very worried. She said that no matter what, Kurt always
turned up for dinner. It was one of the fundamental laws of the Universe
or something.
Logan sniffed the air. Wet fur. Now *there* was a distinctive aroma,
and Kurt's unique scent made it even more distinctive.
He hardly needed his nose, though, to tell him that the enemy had him.
"(gasp) AAAAAAHHHAAAAAAHHHAAAAAHHHAAAAAHHH!!"
"Shut *up*, Fred! You want the clawmeister to shred us to pieces? Just
give us the freakboy and let's get *outta* here."
"But he doesn't wanna let go-oohoooo... (gasp) WAAAAAAAAHHH!!"
"I'mgonnaregretthis," Tabatha sighed. "C'mere, Blue. Wanna give us a
goodbye huggie?"
Kurt's voice, "Wheee! Huggie!" {Splut!}
"...ew. Peel him off and let's *do* this, okay?"
"Youse don't wants a huggie?"
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!"
"No," Lance cooed. "We're doing something *else* fun."
"WHEEEE! *Fun*! I likes fun!"
"Grab his feet, Tabs. I've got his arms."
"Ready? *Swing*! One. Two. *Three*!
"Wheeeeeee!"
"WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!"
Logan didn't see the flying elf until it was too late.
"Wolvie!" {Splut!}
"YES!" Crowed Lance. "Right in the kisser! BWA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Quick! Let's book!"
"Huggie huggie," cooed Kurt.
Jamie stopped running to tell Evan about something when he saw
possibly the wierdest thing in his life to date.
Logan stalked by with Kurt. Sort of. The demonic-looking X-man had
wrapped himself around Logan's head and shoulders and wasn't showing any
signs of wanting to let go.
"Not a word, squirt. Not *one* frikkin' word."
"...huggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggie..."
Jamie walked on. "Uh... Evan?"
"Yeah?"
"Logan just went by with the elf on his head."
Evan hadly bothered turning a hair. "It's a tough job, but someone's
gotta do it."
"AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA..." Hank
pounded on the floor, helpless in the paroxysms of laughter.
"When you're *sure* you're done, poindexter," said Logan. He was
muffled by about one hundred and seventy pounds of exhuberant elf.
Hank giggled to a stop. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he gasped. "It's just
that you look so damn *funny*. BWA-HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA...
(gasp) AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA..."
"...huggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggie..."
"Elf? Go give *poindexter* a huggie."
"HUGGIE!" {Splut!}
There was a moment of silence.
"Okay," said Hank as he convinced Kurt to 'huggie' his forearm. "*Now*
it isn't funny."
"Got that right," said Logan. "Let's secure him before he wants to
'huggie' anyone else."
"...huggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggiehuggie..."
There was light in his eyes, his head hurt, his body ached, but at
least it was cool. Kurt winced at the light and moaned. There was only
one place unsympathetic enough to shine a light into a sick person's
eyes. The hospital wing.
"*GOOOD* morning," sang some cheery bastard.
"...uhunh... loud..." Kurt groaned.
"Not a mornin' person fo' a change, I see," it was Rogue. Did she
actually get off on people's misery or what? "I can tell ya, Kitty an' I
are glad of the rest."
"...ooowwwwwwwwwhhhh..." he moaned. "Le' me die in peace, ja?
Ooowwwtch..."
Rogue snorted. "Y'all ain't gonna *die*," she said. "You'll just wish
ya *had*."
"...believe me, I already do," Kurt sighed, and made to cover his
eyes. He couldn't move. "Gott, nein. I'm paralysed."
"Nah. You're strapped down. After yesterday, we thought it was best."
"*Yesterday*? I thought I was in here for heat stroke. What happened?"
"You don't *remember*?" Rogue shrieked.
"*Owwwwww*... loud..." Kurt spent a little while whimpering. "Last
thing I remember, I got a nice, ice-cold drink from Herr McCoy... Then
it starts getting fuzzy."
{BAM!} The door slammed open. "RISE AND SHINE LITTLE CAMPER!"
"...kill me," Kurt whimpered. "The pain..."
"Y'ask me, you're gettin' *everythin'* ya deserve, ya fuzzy menace."
"I don't even know what I did. I hurt. Can't you go a little easy on
me?"
"Tell that to the bruises on my butt, goose-meister."
He opened his eyes. "I *goosed* my *sister*? *OWWW*!" He squeezed his
eyes shut. "...ohhhh, the agony. Turn the lights off, at least? Owwww...
Pity a poor, dying elf?"
"You *aren't* going to die," sighed Scott. "So you're completely over
jumping on people and yelling 'huggie', right?"
"*Vas*? Please tell me I didn't?"
Both Scott and Rogue glared at him. He could feel their gazes burning
into him.
Kurt moaned. "Trust me. I'm already paying for my sins. You don't
*have* to make it worse. Ach! What did I *do*?"
"The phrase, 'Sharky, Sharky' ring a bell?" asked Scott.
"...ooooohhhhh..."
"And we *think* y'all spent the afternoon buggin' the Brotherhood. At
least, Lance is refusing to come *near* us and Tabby's hiding in corners
and *Fred* - You don't wanna *know* what I saw *Fred* doing."
"Todd and Pietro weren't in the picture," said Scott. "But from what
we can gather, there was this little hyperactivity clambake at the
Brotherhood boarding house."
"...maybe it's better that I *don't* remember," sighed Kurt. "Is
anyone mad at me?"
"Prof. talked 'em all down. Said you had 'diminished responsibility'
and it was all Hank's fault in the first place."
"And we threw out every foodstuff that was even *remotely* coloured
red. So it better not happen again."
"The way I hurt, it shouldn't have happened *once*," Kurt winced. "The
light? Please?"
"*Good* elf," cooed Scott. "Here's a painkiller."
A pill was pressed against his mouth. Kurt practically took Scott's
fingers off, he was so eager to have it.
"It's chewable," said Rogue.
"Sehr gut," Kurt mumbled. "You watch. I'll be a *good* fuzzball.
Promise."