Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nada. Zilch. Goose egg. The gods and goddesses at Marvel own everything. Except the Eggos. I'd say that the Eggo Waffle company owns those. Oh yeah, Columbia owns the coffee *nods*. I'm not getting paid, and am a starving young author surviving on easy mac and water. Pity me and my pathetic…ness.
Delilah: Well here's chapter one. *Mumbles* If you've decided to hang around.
Tangy: What was that, oh bane of my existence?
Delilah: For all of you fascinated readers out there this is Chapter One and the cause of "The Great 'of' Debate".
Tangy: Well it's difficult to come up with names for these damned things *kicks a chapter*. Anyways, I asked about 6 people if the title should have an "of" at the beginning. So the votes came out 50/50, and I tossed a coin.
Delilah: So is that how you solve your problems? Toss a coin? That does not bode well for the world. Yes, let us all decided our fate by a coin toss. I can just picture it now-- peace, love and harmony all due to a coin. Praise the lord and-- *is cut off by Tangy*
Tangy: Well I take after you, now don't I? Anyways, story time!
Delilah: HEY!!! Oh forget it. Roll film. Er…text…screen…story…whatever.
Tangy:
Hah. Loser.
=====================================================================
Katherine Pryde woke at
precisely six A.M., and not a second later. She was an early bird, but the
relentless shrieking of the alarm clock stirred a bit of surprise in her each
morning, and she would wake to find herself underneath her bed with wide,
fearful eyes and a blanket halfway stuck through the mattress. Then, having
crawled back out with an oath of vengeance, she would angrily phase her hand
through the alarm clock, squealing with delight as it died with a distinctive
"BEEP- BEEp- BEep-Beep-beep" and sudden silence. Needless to say, she went
through a lot of alarm clocks.
While she was an early riser,
she had developed a habit of allowing her brain to sleep in on certain days
while her body aimlessly romped around the mansion. Today was one of those
days. Her mind could only focus on two things: Coffee and waffles. "Maybe some
tea," she added in a halfhearted voice, soon intercepted by a yawn. "Mmmn,
waffles, coffee, and tea." She was too preoccupied to notice the chair in front
of her, and if she hadn't been phased she would have tumbled right over it. Her
abilities made mornings like this much easier to bear. She slipped a robe over
her cutesy purple dragon pajamas, and phased out the door and down the stairs.
The promise of waffle-y goodness and lethal proportions of caffeine kept her
moving down the stairs and into the kitchen.
She wandered in and headed
straight for the freezer. A box of Eggo brand waffles was soon in her hands,
filling her eyes with a gleam of impish giddiness.
"Ah, Eggos. Absence indeed
makes the heart grow fonder." She licked her lips as she stuffed the frozen god
sent golden treats into the toaster. Now for a caffeine boost.
"Would you like some
coffee?" The overbearing male voice
came from the other side of the counter.
"You read my mind." She
yawned, reaching her arm across the table to grasp the warm energy-in-a-mug.
She shuffled over to the kitchen table, sitting down and guarding her coffee as
she hunched over it. Slowly injecting the mocha flavored poison by mouth, she
eyed the toaster like a predatory bird. Rogue sauntered into the room, showing
no shame the boxers and baggy shirt that she had worn to bed. Her hair was a
mess as well, and Kitty soon suspected it wasn't a matter of pride; it was
Rogue's lack of a mirror.
"Did
Ah smell Eggo?" Rogue looked devilishly in the direction of the appliance about
to release Kitty's precious waffles.
"MIIINNNEEEEE!" she shrieked,
diving a rather long distance and landing before the toaster. She growled
menacingly at Rogue. Rogue understood the territoriality none too well—she was
the same way about cinnamon rolls. Something about the lightly sweetened treats
with gooey white frosted dripped all over her gave her goose bumps and
instilled the same motherly instincts.
"Ah'll just make mah own." She
held up her hands as a sign of surrender to Kitty, and even took the liberty of
getting her a plate.
"Thanks!" Kitty beamed, doling
a few waffles onto the plate and throwing generous servings of butter and syrup
on top. Something primal seemed to emanate from her eyes. Grabbing a fork and
knife, she hurried back to the table. She attacked it with such vigor that it
seemed for a moment that all of Logan's training had led up to this point.
"Would you like some coffee?"
The eerily smooth male voice addressed Rogue.
"Hmmn, Tea would be nice," she
replied. Then she blinked. Several times. "Kitty?"
"Mmpfh?" Kitty pried her
hungry eyes from the jungle of waffle, syrup, and butter and glanced at her
friend.
"Kitty…?" Kitty gulped down
the large and sticky morsel in her mouth. It was quite difficult.
"I saaaid what?" she retorted,
almost annoyed now that Rogue had not only interrupted her meal, but done so
twice. And she hadn't even bothered to be original the second time.
"Kitty, why is Mistah Sinister
in th' kitchen?"
"Is he now?" was Kitty's
astonished reaction. She looked, and there he was. "So he is!"
"Why, Kitty?"
"For Pete's sake, I don't
know. I'll ask him. Hey, Sinister, what are you doing here?" Rogue thought that
Kitty ought to be taking this a little more seriously.
"Well it's about time one of
you asked. Thought I was going to have to serve up coffee until Summers himself
strolled in to find us all sharing the latest news over the pot." Bobby Drake
picked a choice moment to come in.
"Hey, Rogue! Hey, Kitty! Mmmn,
something smells good!"
"Bobby, Sinister is in th'
kitchen." Her annoyance seeped though her words.
"Why, so he is!"
"That's what I said." Kitty
nodded, downing some more coffee.
"Doesn' this strike y'all as a
little odd?"
"Should it?" Bobby inquired,
gratefully accepting a mug off coffee from Sinister and taking up a seat
opposite of Kitty.
"Yes! He's EVIL!"
"You're evil?" The boy was
extremely thick. He suffered the same condition as Kitty, only it usually
lasted throughout the day.
"Yes, I am," Sinister glowed
with pride, and for once it wasn't just his watch.
"Well, good for you then!"
Kitty said in an unwitting imitation of Ororo's most motherly voice.
"Ah find it unnervin' that
Ah'm the only one worryin' here. Where's Scott when you need 'im?"
"Somebody call?" The
I-have-a-metal-rod-up-my-ass-and-rather-like-it voice of Scott Summers flowed
into the room. Most of the X-Men believed him to be not of his earth due to his
ability to be completely levelheaded in the morning.
"What's wrong, Rogue?" A mug
of coffee was passed from Sinister, to Rogue, to Scott.
"Well, as Ah was sayin'--,"
"OH MY GOD!" Kitty screamed,
Jumping up from the table. "Mr. Sinister is in our kitchen!"
"Ah've been tellin' ya that
the whole time!" Rogue exploded.
"Oh, sorry. You have to wait
for the caffeine to kick in." Kitty motioned to the empty mug on the table.
"I don't see what the big deal
is." Bobby didn't bother standing, he was too busy making whirlpools in his
coffee. He giggled as a small surfing ice figure he had made was sucked into
the caffinated abyss and melted out of sight. Scott took a thoughtful sip of
his coffee.
"Mr. Sinister, I presume."
"You don't need to presume,
you know who I am," Sinister said, pointedly.
"Yes, well, I've always
dreamed of saying it."
"Oh, sorry."
"Quite alright." Scott took
another swig. His mind was processing the information, and it was apparently a
more complicated system than they had all believed." So, Sinister, we
meet at last."
"We've already met, Scott."
"Gawddamnit, Scott! Skip th'
corny one liners and assess th' situation!" Rogue was pouting against the
counter, and Kitty apparently had not yet gotten over the shock of a villain
being in the kitchen. She was still pointing and rambling incoherently, and
Bobby was busy playing with his food. Two more mutants of X-Men fame stumbled
into the mess unfolding in the kitchen. Coffee was graciously handed to them
and they struck up positions next to the disconnected Kitty. Piotr Rasputin
soon had a comforting arm around her shoulder, which was batted away with the
hand not pointing to Sinister. Ororo Munroe scowled at Kitty's latest refusal.
"Good morning." Scott raised
his mug in a greeting.
"'Ro, thank Gawd y'all are
here! Mistah Sinister is in th' kitchen!"
"Ees that who he ees? I kon
see a definite similarity." The husky Russian rubbed his chin in what he
thought to be a contemplative manner.
"Why don't you people recognize
me? I only tried to create mini-Scotts and kill the rest of you! Oh, hello,
Gambit. Coffee?" Any annoyance had washed from his voice as he donned his sweet
smile and held up the pot of coffee like a regular Susie Homemaker.
"Oui." If possible, Remy looked
scruffier than ever in his boxers and tank top. His hair was a rats nest, and
his eyes were bloodshot—not that you could tell. He slowly looked up at Rogue,
only after greedily snatching the beverage from Sinister. "What's wrong,
Chere?"
"Mistah Sinister is here, in
our kitchen, and nobody seems to care!"
"Sinister?" Remy turned.
"Well, so he is!"
"That's what I said!" Kitty
and Bobby chimed.
"Summers, Scott Summers."
Giggles were heard, and a bubbling redhead popped into the doorframe, fingers
to her temple.
"What, you didn't think Mr.
Young Republican(if he weren't a mutant) here would ever say those things on
his own, did you?"
"Well, he was bound to crack
sometime." Ororo said.
"What's
going on down here?" Betsy Braddock tramped in with a disgruntled Warren
hanging from her arm.
"Mr. Sinister joined us for
breakfast!" Kitty piped.
"Hello." Betsy greeted him.
She poked Warren in the ribs.
"Hi." He said quietly.
"Salutations." Sinister bowed
his head slightly in greeting. The couple took up seats at the dining table,
Betsy fussing over Warren's hair and Warren looking much the part of a five
year old momma's boy. An opposing "Stoppit" was occasionally voiced.
"Well, Sinister, what are ya
waitin' for?" Rogue growled. "Why are ya in our kitchen?"
"Methinks the lady doth
protest too much," Hank chided, wheeling in the famous bald cripple.
"Th' lady has a right to
protest—Mistah Sinister is IN OUR KITCHEN!"
"Hello, Charles."
"Nathaniel."
"Don't call me that."
"Right. Why are you here?"
"Because I'm evil."
"But why are ya evil this
time??" Rogue had her head in her hands now.
"Because I collaborated with
FOX television to lock you all up and force a reality T.V. show on you."
"FOX? No!" Ororo sunk into a
chair out of fear and shock combined. Bobby gasped
"A reality T.V. show? Why?"
Yes, Bobby was stupid. There was no doubt in any of their minds.
"Because FOX didn't like my idea of 'Boy George's Magical
Mutant Muppet Menagerie'."
"Ah can understand
why," the southern belle said under her breath.
"Anyway," Sinister coughed to
capture their attention again, "You can't leave without permission. Or
something like that. We forced Mystique to sign all of your names to a
contract." He grinned at their frightened faces, waving the contracts in
question around in the air. Rogue made a desperate attempt to grab hers before
he hid them away.
"This bites," Kitty sulked.
"It better not. You have
viewers to entertain. The cameras have been installed around the house." He
moved towards the door. "And I wouldn't advice trying to short them out, Miss
Pryde," he added upon seeing a mischievous gleam flash across Kitty's eyes.
"You'd be messing with a legally binding contract." He gave a short trademark
villain's laugh before walking out of the kitchen, leaving the baffled X-Men to
their own devices.
Tangy: And that's a wrap!
Delilah: As indicated by your useless "bar."
Tangy: I don't like you.
Delilah: I'm your beta. You're not supposed to like me.
Tangy: *Twitch*
Delilah: Please review. Tangy needs reviews to be somewhat stable. Her birthday is coming up soon. Review her as a present.
Tangy: Or get me a pony.
Delilah: Shut up*fwap*.
Tangy: Ouch. Fine, fine, reviews
are fine.
