A/N: Warning again! This chapter again has many references to music, movies, and Pietro-sex! If you can guess them all, then... neato! As you can see, it's been about... a year or maybe more since we updated, but we've been very busy people, what with working on other creative projects. Such as a webcomic. Called Eternity Inc. Which you can access from our profile (if this doesn't clue you in to who we really are... then it's just sad. Especially if you know us). Anywho, enjoy! Now. Please? Read. We're sorry for the lateness, really!
The laundry room was a place of great mystery and excitement. No one had ever gone into the laundry room and made it out... ALIVE! Well, that was a lie. A lot of people went into the laundry room; they just used the back entrance. Scott, however, could not use the back entrance, as it required him going right by Logan's room.
With Logan's super-keen sense of smell, Scott really didn't want to tempt fate by dragging his pheromone-laden body past him. And so... the front entrance it was.
Grabbing a torch from the wall, he wielded it in front of him, fighting the darkness ahead.
"I hate the laundry room," the bespectacled hero muttered as the torch illuminated his way and the big, scary doors closed behind him.
"Hey... where did those come from?" he asked himself. Last he remembered, there were no big, scary doors in the laundry room. Oh well, the Professor had been watching a lot of Martha Stewart recently, and maybe big, scary doors were supposed to make laundry rooms look more open and friendly and... that was beside the point, as a strange wind was blowing through the corridor of the laundry room.
Scott looked around, noting the cobwebs strewn about the laundry room, swinging in the faint, inexplicable wind. There were many fake severed heads of mutants before him, who unwittingly tried to retrieve their whites from... the dryer.
Wait, this was oddly familiar. It reminded him of a Harrison Ford movie. But... which one? Probably not "Star Wars", and definitely not "Working Girl" because, after all, there's no cute blonde running around.
Scott remembered a brief briefing (and laughed at his pun) about the laundry room. Apparently, there were three tasks that he must conquer in order to get to the sacred washer/dryer from Sears. Firstly, he had to-- ah, crap, what was the first task? If only he could...
Scott scratched his nose and caused his glasses to fall to the ground somehow. Deciding not to waste time thinking about plot holes, he closed his eyes, bent over, and reached for his glasses just as a shiny blade swept through the air where his head once was. No, no, Scott didn't lose his head. He simply moved his head as he bent down, thereby displacing it and avoiding said razor-sharp blade that was actually never referred to as "razor-sharp". It was actually more like a pizza cutter attached to a rotary wheel. Professor X had a sick sense of humor.
"Why's there crap like this in the laundry room?!" Scott cried confusedly once his glasses were back in place. Well, that was the first task. What was the--
Oh God, now I remember...
For Scott had then come across the second task of... the laundry room, where there were many tiles of varying letters and sizes placed about the floor.
He remembered what the second task was now. He had to spell out the professor's name in order to get across. But... which name? Was it... Professor? Professor X? Charles? Charlie? Professor Charles Xavier? Charles, the Happy Professor? You get the gist of it.
And then, a moment of clarity struck Scott. He knew then what he must do. Right in the middle of all of these other letter were the words... "Professor Charles Xavier".
"That has to be it!" Scott declared to himself as he said aloud. Quite redundant, no?
Using his nifty X-Men skills, Scott leaped daringly to the center tile and then leapt to the other side.
"Ha ha!" he screamed in a heroic way. If one had seen Scott at the moment, they would've thought him mad, running around screaming while wearing Rocky Horror lingerie. Actually, they would've thought attractive, as he still had the effects of the pheromones on him. Yessss, the Elixir of Doom. You had forgotten about that, hadn't you? Admit it.
Anyway, in the shadows, a man stood, watching our hero. At least, it is assumed he was a man, as the shadow proved to be humanoid. Of course, it could've been an elaborate coat rack designed specifically to create a shadow humanoid in appearance. This, however, was not a coat rack, and it said... "Bub."
Scott, meanwhile, came upon the third task.... a big pit with the washer/dryer combo on the other side.
"Ohh no," he groaned. "What am I supposed to do now? Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi! You're my only hope..."
Scott had had a long, hard day today. There was the car accident and the Pietro... and the-- the singing and the--
"AAAGH! Screw it, I don't need clothes!" he screamed, the pressure finally making him snap. "Besides, what would happen if I threw myself into this pit, anyway? Would the world really miss Scott Summers?"
"I would," came a voice from the shadows. Scott assumed it was the coat rack. "But... if you want to... we could jump in... TOGETHER!"
"...Logan?!" Scott exclaimed. This was a shocker, indeed. A big, scary, stupid shocker, because after all, wasn't this the reason he took this way in the first place? To avoid Logan? "Fine. Make love to me," Scott said in a flat, robotic voice, giving up all hope of escape. Damn Madame Moonbeamshinystardust and her elixir.
"What?!" Logan cried, taken aback. "Why on earth would I want to do that to you, my love?! You are far too pure for such things!"
"Pure? Shoulda talked to me an hour ago," Scott muttered. He then wondered if what he did with Pietro actually constituted as "love making". Well, actually, he hadn't done anything at all. Pietro did all of the work as Scott watched Jeopardy and counted ceiling tiles. "Three-hundred and sixty-eight," he said aloud.
"What?"
"Ceiling tiles."
"Oh, you are so deep, my love. As deep as this pit as I am going to save you from." Logan rushed out of the shadows to rescue Scott from the pit that was not threatening at all.
"I don't need rescuing; I need clothes!" Scott shouted as he tried to evade the tiny hairy man.
"C'mon, bub, we should be lovers! In a nonsexual way!!"
"What?!"
"Yeah, y'know, bub, poetry, flowers... long walks on the beach... Pina coladas, getting caught in the rain, and the feel of the ocean and the taste of champagne."
Scott felt like he was going to be sick. "I'm not old enough to drink," he replied kind of sarcastically. This day really sucked, anyway, so Scott, losing all hope, decided to jump into the pit.
Can't be much worse than this, he thought grimly as he took a dramatic swan dive into the abyss.
"NOOOOO!!!!" Logan cried melodramatically, in a manner much akin to an 18 year old girl, or even a saddened movie hero, and he fell to his knees and sobbed. He beat his heart, tore his hair, and cried, "Oh! Sweet Summers gone, and all the world is in winter without the shine of your ocular blasts, brightening the day." He really was a poet.
With that, he threw himself upon the ground further, and wept silently.
"Are you still working on that plan?" Pietro asked the overly diligent Lance Alvers, who was sitting in a swivel chair, with his back turned to his probably now ex-boyfriend. The room was lit with many a candle, bringing it a dreary, dramatic lighting that enhanced the spookiness of his Ikea furniture.
Lance mumbled in reply. "Yesss, the plan... precioussssss plan... Little mutantses don't know of the plannnnn, the preciousssss."
"Knock that off!" snapped Pietro. "Besides," he added smugly, crossing his arms over his chest triumphantly, "I already screwed him twice. Or maybe eight times. Maybe seven-and-a-half. Oh well, that's irrelevant, 'cause I already got him and that's all that matters. And you're dumb."
Lanced hissed. "I feel pretty.... oh so pretty. I feel pretty and witty and... GAY!!"
"This crazy lighting is making you insane," Pietro said as he flicked the light switch on.
"NOOO!" came Lance's anguished cry as he dove under the desk to hide from the burning light. But it was too late. Pietro had already noticed the red locks of hair and the crazy looking makeup, not to mention the horribly bland khakis and equally bland shirt.
"...Jean?"
"Yessssss, Jeeeaan," he hissed, crawling for the door. "This will win Scott over!"
Pietro took no notice of Lance's sudden change from talking like a total freak to sounding halfway normal because it's a plot hole... or is it? Maybe it's just a characterization hole. Or maybe it's a deep pit where washers and dryers go! Regardless, Lance tried to make his escape in his new wig and ensemble.
"Oh, no you don't!" the speed demon said, but Lance had an ace up his sleeve. Actually, it was a little blinky flashy ball that dogs have a tendency to play with. He threw it into the air and it bounced against the floor, giving off a spasm of lights to distract the other boy.
"Oooh! Pretty!" Pietro declared, watching the ball is if he were in a trance.
Lance escaped into the night.
A/N: Has Lance truly gone insane? How will Logan live now that his love has plummeted from a precipice? What's with the movie references? Did anybody even catch all of the movie references? Is Scott really dead? If so, how're we writing another chapter? Are we writing another chapter? Yes, yes we are. Our email address had yet again changed because "sorceress_rinoa@hotmail.com" is dead and "purple_dirt@hotmail.com" is also dead. Sadly, we'll have to kill our secret identity even further by resorting to one of our other email addresses, which is "gareth_angel@hotmail.com". Email if it floats your boat! Or even if it doesn't.