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The Xavier Institute…The wheelchair-bound Charles Xavier was in one of the Institutes side rooms which bordered the garage. The room was festively decorated with extravagant extra curtains, tablecloths on top of everything, and a few random balloons. A sound system borrowed from one of the students was situated in the corner of the room, and was blasting some rather fast-paced instrumental music. Also in the room were a multitude of wheeled clothes racks. The racks were filled with suit coats, dress shirts, pants and various other miscellaneous garments. The racks were attended by several well dressed men, who were scurrying about frantically. In the midst of the workers stood Orroro Monroe, Xavier's chief assistant.
"Hur-ry up!" Yelled Orroro, making sure her voice was heard over the bluster of the room. "The birth-day boy is on his way. This is a sur-prise cel-lebration."
As the assistants scurried about with renewed vigor, Xavier looked up at a particularly well dressed man who was standing next to him. "I hope you're remembered every word I said," Xavier instructed. "I want to see a tot-tal trans-formation."
The man, Manfred, had just opened his mouth to respond when the door from the garage opened. Logan entered dressed in his usual dusty jeans and black T-shirt and carrying his beat up leather jacket over his shoulder. Immediately noticing the decorations, he arched his eyebrow and gazed around.
"What's all this?" He asked, casually walking up to Xavier.
"Happy birthday, Logan!" Xavier greeted. "Did you think we'd forgotten?"
Logan blinked in surprise. "Uh, I don't know my—"
"Well, we just assumed," cut off Xavier.
Grinning from ear to ear, Orroro strode over to Logan's side. "These people are from the best Men's Shop in town," she informed, gesturing to scurrying workers. "We had them close it down for the day."
Logan cocked his head to the side. "Men's shop?"
Oblivious to his confusion, Xavier smiled. "We'll leave you boys to it…" Xavier happily wheeled himself out of the room, with Orroro following close after.
The moment they had turned to leave, Manfred cheerfully slapped Logan on the back. "Hap-py birth-day! Wel-come to your shop-a-thon!"
"What's go-in' on?" Demanded Logan as he shoved the man off of him.
Gesturing to the racks lining the room, Manfred continued without missing a beat. "Help your-self, it's all been tak-ken care of. An-ny-one who's any-one is dressed by me." Manfred adjusted his bowtie proudly.
"Well, gol-ly gee," Logan muttered through his teeth.
"Pick out an-ny-thing you'd like a pair of." Manfred practically danced over to a nearby set of racks. "You just point," Manfred began running his hand across the merchandise for emphasis. "I'll do the rest. I've brought no-thing but the best! You're a ver-ry lucky cli-ent, now come a-long, and get undressed!" Pausing for just a moment, Manfred gazed at Logan and thoughtfully tapped his chin. "Un-less I'm not mistaken, that's a fift-ty-two inch chest…"
Not having moved since Xavier left, Logan stared blankly at Manfred. "I don't un-derstand a word you're say-ing."
Stepping forward, Manfred stuck out his head and replied in a condescending tone. "Well, all you need to know's Xav-vier's pay-ing." With a flare, Manfred gestured back to the clothes racks. "It's nice to get your just re-ward just once a year!" Manfred loudly continued.
Logan threw down his jacket and pointed to the door. "Get out of here!"
"And all my merch-chan-dise is strictly ko-sher." Manfred added. Striding forward, he walked past Logan and scooped his coat. "When you've thrown a-way all your old worn-out stuff…"
Logan reflexively darted forward and snacked his jacket out of Manfred's grasp. "Hey, that's en-nough…" Logan warned.
Unfazed, Manfred continued walking, coming to a cloth-covered table after only a few more steps. Picking a packet off the table, he politely turned and offered it to Logan. "Per-haps you'd like to mod-del fore my bro-chure."
Logan angrily grabbed the packet and tossed it to the ground.
Standing to his full height, Manfred smiled and nodded to his assistants. "I've got ju—uuust the thing for you! Chalk stripe suits…"
"In black…"
"Or blu-uuue…" Finished a pair of assistants, stepping past Logan and displaying suits as they passed.
"Green plaid trousers…"
"Cash-mere sweaters…
"Bath-thing shorts from Mal-li-bu…"
A sixth assistant planted himself directly in front of Logan and shoved a piece of footwear in his face. "Here's a pa-tent leather lace up, it's a vir-tuo-so shoe…"
Manfred again stepped forward, displaying a black jacket draped over his arm. "And a sim-ply marv'lous coat made of Vi-cun-na."
Logan stared at Manfred through narrowed eyes. "You know what you can do with your Vic-cun-na," he growled.
Xavier and Orroro chose that moment to re-enter the room. "Oh, Lo-gan, you hav-ven't ev-ven start-ted yet!" Cried Xavier, upon seeing Logan's attire.
Logan's gaze darted to the side. "You wan-na bet?"
As she walked, Orroro held up her hands and rolled her eyes. "We'd thought by now you'd look the height of fash-shion…"
"He al-ways takes for-ever mak-king up his mind," apologized Xavier as he wheeled up to Manfred. "It's just his kind."
Coming to a stop, Orroro crossed her arms and gazed disapprovingly at Logan. "Come on Lo-gan, you need to show some passion!"
Logan stared at his two supposed 'friends' and fought off a nervous twitch.
Shaking her head, Orroro quickly moved on. "I like fla—aaan-el on a man!" She continued, coming to a rack.
Manfred seemed to appear by her side holding out a brown shirt. "This will com-pli-ment his tan…
Like a child in a candy shop, Xavier wheeled along side a rack. "We'll take two of these," he gestured, "and four of those!"
"Clothes al-ways make the man…" Manfred tried to hold a tie up to Logan's neck to appraise it, but Logan stubbornly flinched away. Shrugging, Manfred tossed the tie to the side. "Very soon I'll have stopped him from look-king li—iiike an also-ran…"
Logan glowered towards Xavier. "You're gun-na make me sor-ry that I'm stay-ing."
Xavier shrugged. "Well, all right, we'll choose, af-ter all, we're pay-ing."
"Evening clothes?" Interjected Manfred.
Orroro stepped forward. "I want to see you're most de-lux."
"Won't wear a tux!" Yelled Logan.
"Of course not, friend," soothed Xavier, "tux-edos are for wait-ters."
"What we need are tails, a white tie and top hat!" Seemingly out of nowhere, Manfred presented a suit to Logan.
Logan's eyes bulged, and he slowly shook his head. "I can't wear that…"
"Friend, second rate clothes are for second-rat-ters," chided Xavier.
"Charles, please!" Began Logan.
"Friend, I'm rich," relied Xavier, casually dismissing Logan's protests with a wave of his hand. "You don't need to wear such kitsch."
"You own so man-ny of those plain shirts," chided Orroro. "We've for-got-ten which is which."
"But I—I don't go to par-ties," responded Logan. "I'm ne—ver on dis-lay." Crossing his arms, Logan grimly faced his friends. "You seem to for-get that I'm a lon-ner. You don't wear crap like that," Logan angrily pointed towards Manfred. "When you're a lon-ner."
"Logan, please just try some on, you're fam-mil-ly…" Pleaded Xavier with a disarming grin.
"Oh, whatever…" Logan muttered, giving in.
"Besides," cheerfully continued Orroro, "You can't help chaperone the Prom in that filling-station shirt."
Logan's mouth dropped open for a beat. "I am not chaperoning a dance!" He finally managed to get out.
"I can't do this a-lone," pleaded Orroro, "I ne—ed you!"
"You can't back out," added Xavier, "You have an obliga-tion."
Logan dejectedly lowered his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "All right, Orroro, I give in."
"Of course you do," Orroro cheerfully cut in, throwing up her arms. "And when we've dressed you, you'll cause a sensa-tion!"
At a signal from Xavier, the assistants darted forward again and began streaming past Logan. "We e-quip the cho-sen few ac-cross the land."
"The lat-test cut," interjected Manfred.
"We dress every ladies man and crooner. From their shin-ny toecaps to their hatband." Logan took a swipe at a salesman who got too close.
"Conceal your gut," added Manfred, appearing beside Logan in his confusion. Before the man could react, Manfred had draped a coat over his shoulders. "You won't re-gret selecting the vi-cu-na," he appraised.
Whirling around, Logan snatched the jacket and glowered at Manfred. As he did, the assistant salesmen reformed their ranks.
"If you need a hand to shake," they chorused, striding past Logan. "If there's a girl you want to make. If there's a soul you're out to capture, or a heart you want to break!" Again, Logan took a swipe at a passing assistant. The assistant nimbly jumped to the side, while the assistant behind him managed to fling a sash around Logan's waist. Another salesman managed to get a tie over Logan's head before they all broke off. "If you want the world to love you…"
"You'll ha—ave to learn to take," injected Manfred, again appearing at the flustered Logan's side.
Logan inadvertently snarled as he tore off the tie.
"And grace-ful-ly ac-cept the role you're play-ing," chorused the assistants, standing at attention along the racks.
As Logan angrily threw his tie on the ground, Manfred again stepped in front of him and glanced down appraisingly. "You'll look worth ev-'ry cent Xavier's paying."
At a hand gesture from their boss, the assistants strode forward. "So why not have it aaaa—aaaaaaaaalll…" As they paraded past him, each assistant piled an armful of clothes atop and increasingly irritated Logan.
"Now that didn't hurt, did it?" Asked Manfred in an extraordinarily irritating voice.
With Logan nearly bristling, the assistants turned and clicked their heels together. "Xavier's pay-ing!" They finished.
The silence held for a moment.
Snikt!
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