=Doom Is A Four Letter Word=
AN ~ Some people wandered why I'm having a winter holiday right now. The answer is, I live in New Zealand. During July it's pretty much in the middle of winter (You lucky people of the northern hemisphere and your summer holidays. . . *envy*).
I take this moment to apologize for all my previous and future spelling errors and typos. Let's just say spell-check and grammar-check aren't the highest up the AI evolutionary tree.
Disclaimer: Bow down to me! The almighty! With the power to spew out random verbal garbage which seems to make people laugh! Does that qualify me for the ownership of Xmen?
Apparently not.
*****
*Location ~ Xavier's ridiculously long name for his house of accident prone mutants*
It was another sunny day in Bayville. Even if the weather is a stupid way to start a paragraph, I'm doin' it.
The birds were chirping, all the kids were outside, and the students at the Xavier Institute were hiding and scattering in various directions as Kitty worked hard in the kitchen. . .
"Sheesh! It's not like my cooking's THAT bad. . ." Kitty grumbled after Roberto had walked in, yelped when he saw Kitty with a mixing bowl, and ran off like my dog did when I tried to give him a bath (at 35k/h).
She turned her ingredients ferociously with a wooden spoon and muttered something about fanfic writers and their clichés about how bad her cooking was.
But it's reassuring to know that no matter how OOC (out of character) a fic can get, at least you can always count on one thing: Katherine Pryde's culinary creations will always damage people and property.
Kind of like a natural disaster really.
Today's dish of terror: A nutty, macadamia bundt cake.
Now. I could single-handedly crash Thesaurus.com and describe just how that cake could damage your digestive system, but I've been asked since the first chapter never EVER to explain any food ever again.
So I won't.
Instead, I shall follow the sacred path of every 'Kitty's-cooking-is- equivalent-to-a-bioweapon' fanfic and choose a victim to sample her cake. Oh! And here he comes now!
Forge strolled into the kitchen, unaware of what awaits him. He was the only person inside the mansion that did not know of Kitty's jaw-cracking muffins, or her fire-resistant cookies.
Poor fool.
"Hi Kitty, where is everyone? Isn't it lunchtime?"
Kitty removed her cake from the cooling rack. "They must be busy or something." She smiled innocently "Would you like some cake?"
Y'see, Forge was smart. And any person with a LITTLE bit of logic could put two and two together and figure out just WHY everyone wasn't there. The half dozen burnt cakes around the counter should also give him a clue.
But Forge was also hungry. And hunger has a way of messing with people's perception.
"Well?" Kitty held up a slice.
NO! NO! Say no and run!
"Sure."
Gah. Nice knowing you Forge.
Kitty put the slice onto a plate and handed Forge a spoon. He thanked her and took a bite without hesitation. Kitty looked on with anticipation while Forge chewed. . . and chewed. . . and chewed. . . he's still chewing. . .
"Well?"
He seemed to be unwilling to swallow, but he succeeded. "I'm not sure if you know this Kitty." Forge paused, looking pained. "But the macadamia nuts still have shells on them." He picked something from between his teeth "And this looks like part of an egg shell. . ."
Kitty sighed. "It's hard cracking those nuts! They keep bouncing off the counters when I hit them with the hammer. The only unshelled ones were the pieces I picked up from the floor."
Forge raised an eyebrow "But that doesn't explain the eggshell." He paused, and picked something off his cake. "Make that eggSHELLS."
"So I'm a little clumsy. . ."
"What about the burnt raisins?"
"The oven needs repairs."
"Or maybe," Forge replied dryly "Maybe, you need to work a little more on your cooking skills."
Kitty rolled her eyes, "Well I don't DENY it. But you have to admit," she pointed at her previous creations "I AM improving."
"Uh huh." Forge said in an I'm-not-so-sure-about-this-but-if-it-means-I- don't-have-to-finish-the-cake-and-I-get-a-cool-hyphenated-sentence-then- fine kind of tone. "If you want, I can always get you a nut cracker to make the process easier."
"Really?" Kitty was surprised. No one had ever volunteered to help with her cooking before.
"Yep. Don't have anything better to do." Forge told her in a confident manner that all would-be victims of horrible humor fanfics do.
But meanwhile. . .
*Location ~ Acolytes HQ*
Sabertooth raised a hand (the meeting was still commencing). When Magneto nodded in his direction, Victor spoke up "Do we get any toilet breaks?" The team had been in the meeting room since the day before.
Magneto furrowed his brows (which is a bit useless seeing how nobody would notice it from under his helmet) "No! We're staying here till we have a plot!"
And so the silence resumed.
*Location ~ Brotherhood's Boarding House*
It seems the Brotherhood has also been concentrating on a plot. Even if it WAS one of the most exasperated, random and attention seeking plot ever to grace the world of fanfiction.
Lance was standing on top of the dining table, explaining his complicated plan to locate this 'PlasticMan'. It involved the whole Brotherhood, explosions, and Cerebro. He might've been more successful in getting his point across if his sentences made grammatical sense, or if his audience hadn't been betting on how long before the table collapsed.
In the middle of describing a way of breaking into 'Cerebro', Lance was interrupted when Pietro let out a sudden outburst wondering when had leadership of the 'hood' changed hands to Lance.
"Because I was the first to come up with a possible structure for this pointless story." Lance replied bluntly.
Wanda rolled her eyes "That's getting old."
"What's getting old?"
"Cracking remarks about this story needing a plot. You can only be amused for so long before the repetitive statements get cheesy. I mean COME'ON we GET IT!"
Hey! I was only reminding the readers of what this is about! Of course Wanda can't hear me. . .
"It ain't gonna work." Todd spoke up after a long pause.
"What's not going to work?" Lance was beginning to think that his friends weren't good at including all the information needed for a full explanation.
"The plan."
"Why not?" Fred asked "It's simple enough. Crash through security, get to Cerebro, look up plastic-controlling mutants, and away we go."
"It's da ironic forces of fiction. It'll stop us some'ow. Note da formula: Us = bad guys. Bad guys = failure. We won't be able ta succeed. This story won't make sense."
Lance laughed. It was a oh-you-don't-get-it laugh (which should NEVER be used by someone who's about to get something SOOO wrong.) "Who said we're the bad guys?"
"Every news stations within america and across the Atlantic?" Pietro offered.
"I know all about the laws of fiction." he ignored Pietro "That's why we're going to have to defy them."
"How?" Pietro could defy the laws of physics but he wasn't sure about fiction.
"Hey, if they can do it in reality why not in fanfics?" And with that, the table collapsed and Wanda collected her winnings.
"If they could do what in reality?" Fred scratched his head, which couldn't decide on growing hair or not (Evo artists seems to have trouble deciding too) "Hello? Wake up Lance! You need to finish your sentence! Lancie-poo. . . hello. . ."
*Location ~ Bayville Cinema/Mall*
Jean and Scott were NOT on a date. How could they be? Nearly everyone from the institute was there.
Jean turned to Scott when no one was looking. She'd been wanting to ask him something for a very long time. . .
"Scott?"
"Hmm?"
". . . Why DID the chicken cross the road?"
And so the start of a VERY important and philosophical conversation began, spanning the length of the entire movie and all the mutants present took part in it.
But that's a story for later.
*Location ~ Who Reads This? Nobody cares. It's not like an important piece of information or anything. . .*
Kurt 'Bamfed' back into the institute. He'd had enough of all the talk about 'chickens' and 'road crossing'. He felt that if he ever hear someone speak those words in the same sentence again that he would not be able to control the strong urge to strangle them. Kurt noticed that nobody else was inside, and wandered if he could snatch something from the kitchen without Kitty noticing him.
"Kurt?" Kitty's voice carried all the way to the foyer.
Damn! he thought (actually he thought something similar to that in german. I think.)
"Hey Nightcrawler! Check out my new creation!" called someone who definitely wasn't Kitty. Kurt's worst horrors were realized when he recognized the voice. It was Forge.
"Come into the kitchen Kurt! I know you're there." This time it was Kitty.
Death by a fiery dimension or death by food poisoning? Kurt pondered silently before 'Bamfing' to his undesired destination.
*****
Ok, ok. I'm lazy. It's been the holidays for a while and I still haven't managed to get my other fanfic done. You can grill me all you want for taking so long (go ahead, it might encourage me).
-Rubber Duki
AN ~ Some people wandered why I'm having a winter holiday right now. The answer is, I live in New Zealand. During July it's pretty much in the middle of winter (You lucky people of the northern hemisphere and your summer holidays. . . *envy*).
I take this moment to apologize for all my previous and future spelling errors and typos. Let's just say spell-check and grammar-check aren't the highest up the AI evolutionary tree.
Disclaimer: Bow down to me! The almighty! With the power to spew out random verbal garbage which seems to make people laugh! Does that qualify me for the ownership of Xmen?
Apparently not.
*****
*Location ~ Xavier's ridiculously long name for his house of accident prone mutants*
It was another sunny day in Bayville. Even if the weather is a stupid way to start a paragraph, I'm doin' it.
The birds were chirping, all the kids were outside, and the students at the Xavier Institute were hiding and scattering in various directions as Kitty worked hard in the kitchen. . .
"Sheesh! It's not like my cooking's THAT bad. . ." Kitty grumbled after Roberto had walked in, yelped when he saw Kitty with a mixing bowl, and ran off like my dog did when I tried to give him a bath (at 35k/h).
She turned her ingredients ferociously with a wooden spoon and muttered something about fanfic writers and their clichés about how bad her cooking was.
But it's reassuring to know that no matter how OOC (out of character) a fic can get, at least you can always count on one thing: Katherine Pryde's culinary creations will always damage people and property.
Kind of like a natural disaster really.
Today's dish of terror: A nutty, macadamia bundt cake.
Now. I could single-handedly crash Thesaurus.com and describe just how that cake could damage your digestive system, but I've been asked since the first chapter never EVER to explain any food ever again.
So I won't.
Instead, I shall follow the sacred path of every 'Kitty's-cooking-is- equivalent-to-a-bioweapon' fanfic and choose a victim to sample her cake. Oh! And here he comes now!
Forge strolled into the kitchen, unaware of what awaits him. He was the only person inside the mansion that did not know of Kitty's jaw-cracking muffins, or her fire-resistant cookies.
Poor fool.
"Hi Kitty, where is everyone? Isn't it lunchtime?"
Kitty removed her cake from the cooling rack. "They must be busy or something." She smiled innocently "Would you like some cake?"
Y'see, Forge was smart. And any person with a LITTLE bit of logic could put two and two together and figure out just WHY everyone wasn't there. The half dozen burnt cakes around the counter should also give him a clue.
But Forge was also hungry. And hunger has a way of messing with people's perception.
"Well?" Kitty held up a slice.
NO! NO! Say no and run!
"Sure."
Gah. Nice knowing you Forge.
Kitty put the slice onto a plate and handed Forge a spoon. He thanked her and took a bite without hesitation. Kitty looked on with anticipation while Forge chewed. . . and chewed. . . and chewed. . . he's still chewing. . .
"Well?"
He seemed to be unwilling to swallow, but he succeeded. "I'm not sure if you know this Kitty." Forge paused, looking pained. "But the macadamia nuts still have shells on them." He picked something from between his teeth "And this looks like part of an egg shell. . ."
Kitty sighed. "It's hard cracking those nuts! They keep bouncing off the counters when I hit them with the hammer. The only unshelled ones were the pieces I picked up from the floor."
Forge raised an eyebrow "But that doesn't explain the eggshell." He paused, and picked something off his cake. "Make that eggSHELLS."
"So I'm a little clumsy. . ."
"What about the burnt raisins?"
"The oven needs repairs."
"Or maybe," Forge replied dryly "Maybe, you need to work a little more on your cooking skills."
Kitty rolled her eyes, "Well I don't DENY it. But you have to admit," she pointed at her previous creations "I AM improving."
"Uh huh." Forge said in an I'm-not-so-sure-about-this-but-if-it-means-I- don't-have-to-finish-the-cake-and-I-get-a-cool-hyphenated-sentence-then- fine kind of tone. "If you want, I can always get you a nut cracker to make the process easier."
"Really?" Kitty was surprised. No one had ever volunteered to help with her cooking before.
"Yep. Don't have anything better to do." Forge told her in a confident manner that all would-be victims of horrible humor fanfics do.
But meanwhile. . .
*Location ~ Acolytes HQ*
Sabertooth raised a hand (the meeting was still commencing). When Magneto nodded in his direction, Victor spoke up "Do we get any toilet breaks?" The team had been in the meeting room since the day before.
Magneto furrowed his brows (which is a bit useless seeing how nobody would notice it from under his helmet) "No! We're staying here till we have a plot!"
And so the silence resumed.
*Location ~ Brotherhood's Boarding House*
It seems the Brotherhood has also been concentrating on a plot. Even if it WAS one of the most exasperated, random and attention seeking plot ever to grace the world of fanfiction.
Lance was standing on top of the dining table, explaining his complicated plan to locate this 'PlasticMan'. It involved the whole Brotherhood, explosions, and Cerebro. He might've been more successful in getting his point across if his sentences made grammatical sense, or if his audience hadn't been betting on how long before the table collapsed.
In the middle of describing a way of breaking into 'Cerebro', Lance was interrupted when Pietro let out a sudden outburst wondering when had leadership of the 'hood' changed hands to Lance.
"Because I was the first to come up with a possible structure for this pointless story." Lance replied bluntly.
Wanda rolled her eyes "That's getting old."
"What's getting old?"
"Cracking remarks about this story needing a plot. You can only be amused for so long before the repetitive statements get cheesy. I mean COME'ON we GET IT!"
Hey! I was only reminding the readers of what this is about! Of course Wanda can't hear me. . .
"It ain't gonna work." Todd spoke up after a long pause.
"What's not going to work?" Lance was beginning to think that his friends weren't good at including all the information needed for a full explanation.
"The plan."
"Why not?" Fred asked "It's simple enough. Crash through security, get to Cerebro, look up plastic-controlling mutants, and away we go."
"It's da ironic forces of fiction. It'll stop us some'ow. Note da formula: Us = bad guys. Bad guys = failure. We won't be able ta succeed. This story won't make sense."
Lance laughed. It was a oh-you-don't-get-it laugh (which should NEVER be used by someone who's about to get something SOOO wrong.) "Who said we're the bad guys?"
"Every news stations within america and across the Atlantic?" Pietro offered.
"I know all about the laws of fiction." he ignored Pietro "That's why we're going to have to defy them."
"How?" Pietro could defy the laws of physics but he wasn't sure about fiction.
"Hey, if they can do it in reality why not in fanfics?" And with that, the table collapsed and Wanda collected her winnings.
"If they could do what in reality?" Fred scratched his head, which couldn't decide on growing hair or not (Evo artists seems to have trouble deciding too) "Hello? Wake up Lance! You need to finish your sentence! Lancie-poo. . . hello. . ."
*Location ~ Bayville Cinema/Mall*
Jean and Scott were NOT on a date. How could they be? Nearly everyone from the institute was there.
Jean turned to Scott when no one was looking. She'd been wanting to ask him something for a very long time. . .
"Scott?"
"Hmm?"
". . . Why DID the chicken cross the road?"
And so the start of a VERY important and philosophical conversation began, spanning the length of the entire movie and all the mutants present took part in it.
But that's a story for later.
*Location ~ Who Reads This? Nobody cares. It's not like an important piece of information or anything. . .*
Kurt 'Bamfed' back into the institute. He'd had enough of all the talk about 'chickens' and 'road crossing'. He felt that if he ever hear someone speak those words in the same sentence again that he would not be able to control the strong urge to strangle them. Kurt noticed that nobody else was inside, and wandered if he could snatch something from the kitchen without Kitty noticing him.
"Kurt?" Kitty's voice carried all the way to the foyer.
Damn! he thought (actually he thought something similar to that in german. I think.)
"Hey Nightcrawler! Check out my new creation!" called someone who definitely wasn't Kitty. Kurt's worst horrors were realized when he recognized the voice. It was Forge.
"Come into the kitchen Kurt! I know you're there." This time it was Kitty.
Death by a fiery dimension or death by food poisoning? Kurt pondered silently before 'Bamfing' to his undesired destination.
*****
Ok, ok. I'm lazy. It's been the holidays for a while and I still haven't managed to get my other fanfic done. You can grill me all you want for taking so long (go ahead, it might encourage me).
-Rubber Duki