******************************
The Electric Russian's Crazed Fantasies of XME
Chapter 3
The Producers
******************************
Scott glared at the clock in the café. 'They're late' his mind told him over and over. If there was one thing in the world Scott hated, it was unreliability. If these people couldn't make it on time, they didn't deserve to be there in his opinion.
At last, a small figure strode into the restaurant.
"Rahne!" Scott said, causing some people to look up from their chicken cordon blue and escargot. One child in particular looked up, then down, then did a double take. 'Is that really Scott?!' thought the kid.
"Scott!" Rahne hissed at him, "How mane times do I 'ave to tell ye! Don' use our real names in public!"
"Oh yea. But you're still late! Why?"
Rahne shrugged her shoulders. Scott sighed. 'Why me?'
"Did you at least bring the object?"
"What?"
"It was your turn!"
"Oh, that. Ye, I got it. Hey, there's Boris!"
"Who?"
"Ray!" Rahne hissed.
Indeed, Ray was easy to spot among all the French people. Or, rather, his hair. The only clue that Ray had walked into the café was his hair that stood above all the people.
When Ray saw the two at a small table, he said "Hey Scott, hey Rahne."
Rahne shook her head and lowered in defeat.
"What about our aliases?"
"Our what?"
"Our fake names!"
"Oh yea. What about 'em? Hey, look, its Fred!"
Rahne almost strangled the other new recruit.
"You. . . Mean. . . George. . ." Rahne said through clenched teeth.
Fred was outside, obviously thinking about how to get through the door. He was obviously too large to fit through, and he was pondering simply crashing though the window. He reasoned they wouldn't mind, seeing as how he practically kept these people in business.
"Missue Dukes! No! Do not crash srough ze window! We just had it replaced!"
"Oh, hey Gaston. How do I get in again?"
"Right zis way, Missue Dukes."
Gaston led Fred around to the back, where Fred half-walked, half-rolled through two large double doors.
"Uh, hey guys." Fred said from the ground.
"Iz zere anyzing else I gan get you, zir?"
"No thanks, Gaston. I got it under control here."
Fred had a seat at the table where the rest were. Scott leaned over to Ray and whispered, "Why is he here? I thought we kicked him out at the *last* meeting." Ray shrugged his shoulders.
"Right then, the meeting has come to adjourn. Today's issue is Season 5 of X-Men Evolution. So, the floor is open to anyone who has an idea for a plot. Well, the floor will be open after Ray stops combing his hair."
Ray quickly stuck his pink hairbrush in his back pocket and apologized.
"Ahem, as I was saying, the floor is open. Would anyone like to speak?"
"Aye, I would."
"Alright Rahne. Go ahead."
"I would like to say that ye oll deserve ta get strangled after not usin' our aliases in public. Somebody is bound to want an autograph, then the next person, then a hole row 'o people are gunna want autographs. Jus' wait an see."
"Right. Anyone besides Rahne?"
"Uh, yea. I would."
"Here we go again. . ." Scott grumbled.
"I would like to, um, er. . ."
"Propose?" Suggested Ray.
"Yea. Propose that the show is titled 'Brotherhood: Evolution'. All in favor, say Jay."
"Do you mean Aye?" suggested Ray.
"Er, yea. Aye?"
Nobody at the table said Aye or Jay.
"Right, moving o-"
"Pardon mua, Missue, but may I have your autograph?"
"AHH!" Scott screamed like a little girl at, um. . . the little girl. "GERMS!!!"
Faster than Pietro, he whipped out a can of Lysol and furiously sprayed the kid.
"He he. Zat tickles, missue!"
"Who are you?!"
"Missue, I am Persephorone. I would like an autograph, if you don't mind, missue. You are my favorite X-Man! I used to watch you show every Saturday, before the stupid network took it off."
She gave Scott a pouting, puppy-dog face. Scott looked pleadingly at Rahne, but she simply raised an eyebrow at him.
"Um, okay. There you go." Scott took the pen from the little girl and scribbled down on a napkin. He gave it to the little girl, who squealed with glee.
"Merci! Merci! I cannot wait to tell my brothers I got Cyclop's signature!" The little girl skipped off to tell her siblings.
"Don't say it, Rahne. Well, again, the floor is open. . ." Scott prompted.
He looked around at his guests; Rahne was waiting patiently, Ray was fiddling with a salt shaker, and Fred was eating another guy's sandwich while he was kissing his girlfriend.
"Fred! Er, George. Er, um, Whatever! Stop eating his sandwich"
"Whaft? He thaid I could eath ith!" Fred said with a mouthful of food.
"How dare you sir! Zat was *my* sandwich!" Said the man after he was done with his girlfriend. Fred slowly backed away.
"Um. Okay. So now that free session is over, it is Rahne's turn to bring a random object for inspiration to the plot. Rahne?"
"Aye, Oi brought it. Here it is." She said, pulling a GI Joe out of,. . . somewhere.
"OH! I have an idea!" said an elated Scott.
"How about I join S.H.I.E.L.D. and jean joins hydra, and then at the finale, she confesses her love to me and says 'Will you marry me, Scott?', and I'll say sure, but we wont kiss, because she has too many germ-"
"Pardon mua, Missue, but may I have an autograph?"
"AHH! GERMS!" Scott cried, as he again whipped out his trusty can of Lysol and sprayed the kid in the face with it.
"ARRG!!! IT BURNS! MOMMY!" The kid screamed. His mother came over and slapped Scott across the face.
"All ze poor boy wanted was an autograph, you sick, sick man!" The woman held the now fresh-pine smelling kid in her arms and stormed off.
Scott turned to see everyone glaring at him.
"Rahne, don't say it."
"Uhg, hey, wait a minute!" said Fred.
"What is it now?!"
"How come Jean never said that to me?"
"Said what?"
"You know, what you said!"
"HUH?!"
"Never mind."
"Alright. Onto the next order of business. I wo-"
"Excuse'e mua, Missue, but ma-"
"EEEEEEP!"
Scott again withdrew his can of Lysol and sprayed the kid with it. This time, though, it was not a small child. This was now a boy around Kurt's age, with the beginnings of a mustache and a handsome suit on.
"My younger brother apparently came over here for an autograph, but some idiot sprayed him in the face with air fresionair. May I get an autograph for him?"
"Um, sure. Do you have a pen."
"Wee, here you are"
Scott again scribbled down his signature before turning back to his group.
"Aye, Oi tol-"
"Don't say it. Okay then, the meeting is almost over. Th-" Scott again stopped in mid-sentence. He noticed a small spot on his sweater. Whatever it was, Scott was getting red. He finally lost it.
"GOD! AHHH! STAIN STAIN STAIN! AAAAHH!!!" Scott ran across the entire café looking for anything to get the evil stain off of his sweater, and finally came to rest when he discovered a stain removal kit behind the podium where Gaston seated the customers.
He hurriedly opened it up and spread some of the liquid over the practically non-existent stain on his sweater. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief after the stain slowly disappeared. He pranced back to the table, now happier than tapeworm in a meat patty.
Because people had been starring at him throughout the entire time, he did not notice anyone giving him strange looks, including his guests.
As soon as he sat down, he noticed some kitty litter from somewhere on his pants. How it got there, Scott didn't care. He just screamed, "DEAR GOD! NOT MY PANTS TOO! AAAHH!!!"
~~~~
Jean was in her room at the X-Mansion when Scott walked in. "Scott! Where have you been?"
"Um, nowhere. Just, er, um, nowhere."
Jean went to go hug him, but stopped about a foot away. It seemed that there was some kind of force field around her love.
Finally, Scott fizzled out of existence and Fred stood in his place.
"HOW DID YOU GET THAT HOLO-WATCH?"
"Um. Er, uh. You're not mad at me, are you?"
"out, out, OUT OUT OUT!!!"
"CUT!" cried Stan Lee, as he walked on to the stage.
"What was that? And why are you here?"
~~~~
{In the basement of the X-Mansion}
"Guys? Hallo? Guys? Zis isn't funny anymore! I cannot see! And someone stole my image inducer! GUYS!"
******************************
I hope you liked it. In fact, tell me whether you like it or not with that little button down there that says 'Submit Review'. Thanks. Again, props to Aslyin.
Until next time,
Das vi danya.
-The Electric Russian
The Electric Russian's Crazed Fantasies of XME
Chapter 3
The Producers
******************************
Scott glared at the clock in the café. 'They're late' his mind told him over and over. If there was one thing in the world Scott hated, it was unreliability. If these people couldn't make it on time, they didn't deserve to be there in his opinion.
At last, a small figure strode into the restaurant.
"Rahne!" Scott said, causing some people to look up from their chicken cordon blue and escargot. One child in particular looked up, then down, then did a double take. 'Is that really Scott?!' thought the kid.
"Scott!" Rahne hissed at him, "How mane times do I 'ave to tell ye! Don' use our real names in public!"
"Oh yea. But you're still late! Why?"
Rahne shrugged her shoulders. Scott sighed. 'Why me?'
"Did you at least bring the object?"
"What?"
"It was your turn!"
"Oh, that. Ye, I got it. Hey, there's Boris!"
"Who?"
"Ray!" Rahne hissed.
Indeed, Ray was easy to spot among all the French people. Or, rather, his hair. The only clue that Ray had walked into the café was his hair that stood above all the people.
When Ray saw the two at a small table, he said "Hey Scott, hey Rahne."
Rahne shook her head and lowered in defeat.
"What about our aliases?"
"Our what?"
"Our fake names!"
"Oh yea. What about 'em? Hey, look, its Fred!"
Rahne almost strangled the other new recruit.
"You. . . Mean. . . George. . ." Rahne said through clenched teeth.
Fred was outside, obviously thinking about how to get through the door. He was obviously too large to fit through, and he was pondering simply crashing though the window. He reasoned they wouldn't mind, seeing as how he practically kept these people in business.
"Missue Dukes! No! Do not crash srough ze window! We just had it replaced!"
"Oh, hey Gaston. How do I get in again?"
"Right zis way, Missue Dukes."
Gaston led Fred around to the back, where Fred half-walked, half-rolled through two large double doors.
"Uh, hey guys." Fred said from the ground.
"Iz zere anyzing else I gan get you, zir?"
"No thanks, Gaston. I got it under control here."
Fred had a seat at the table where the rest were. Scott leaned over to Ray and whispered, "Why is he here? I thought we kicked him out at the *last* meeting." Ray shrugged his shoulders.
"Right then, the meeting has come to adjourn. Today's issue is Season 5 of X-Men Evolution. So, the floor is open to anyone who has an idea for a plot. Well, the floor will be open after Ray stops combing his hair."
Ray quickly stuck his pink hairbrush in his back pocket and apologized.
"Ahem, as I was saying, the floor is open. Would anyone like to speak?"
"Aye, I would."
"Alright Rahne. Go ahead."
"I would like to say that ye oll deserve ta get strangled after not usin' our aliases in public. Somebody is bound to want an autograph, then the next person, then a hole row 'o people are gunna want autographs. Jus' wait an see."
"Right. Anyone besides Rahne?"
"Uh, yea. I would."
"Here we go again. . ." Scott grumbled.
"I would like to, um, er. . ."
"Propose?" Suggested Ray.
"Yea. Propose that the show is titled 'Brotherhood: Evolution'. All in favor, say Jay."
"Do you mean Aye?" suggested Ray.
"Er, yea. Aye?"
Nobody at the table said Aye or Jay.
"Right, moving o-"
"Pardon mua, Missue, but may I have your autograph?"
"AHH!" Scott screamed like a little girl at, um. . . the little girl. "GERMS!!!"
Faster than Pietro, he whipped out a can of Lysol and furiously sprayed the kid.
"He he. Zat tickles, missue!"
"Who are you?!"
"Missue, I am Persephorone. I would like an autograph, if you don't mind, missue. You are my favorite X-Man! I used to watch you show every Saturday, before the stupid network took it off."
She gave Scott a pouting, puppy-dog face. Scott looked pleadingly at Rahne, but she simply raised an eyebrow at him.
"Um, okay. There you go." Scott took the pen from the little girl and scribbled down on a napkin. He gave it to the little girl, who squealed with glee.
"Merci! Merci! I cannot wait to tell my brothers I got Cyclop's signature!" The little girl skipped off to tell her siblings.
"Don't say it, Rahne. Well, again, the floor is open. . ." Scott prompted.
He looked around at his guests; Rahne was waiting patiently, Ray was fiddling with a salt shaker, and Fred was eating another guy's sandwich while he was kissing his girlfriend.
"Fred! Er, George. Er, um, Whatever! Stop eating his sandwich"
"Whaft? He thaid I could eath ith!" Fred said with a mouthful of food.
"How dare you sir! Zat was *my* sandwich!" Said the man after he was done with his girlfriend. Fred slowly backed away.
"Um. Okay. So now that free session is over, it is Rahne's turn to bring a random object for inspiration to the plot. Rahne?"
"Aye, Oi brought it. Here it is." She said, pulling a GI Joe out of,. . . somewhere.
"OH! I have an idea!" said an elated Scott.
"How about I join S.H.I.E.L.D. and jean joins hydra, and then at the finale, she confesses her love to me and says 'Will you marry me, Scott?', and I'll say sure, but we wont kiss, because she has too many germ-"
"Pardon mua, Missue, but may I have an autograph?"
"AHH! GERMS!" Scott cried, as he again whipped out his trusty can of Lysol and sprayed the kid in the face with it.
"ARRG!!! IT BURNS! MOMMY!" The kid screamed. His mother came over and slapped Scott across the face.
"All ze poor boy wanted was an autograph, you sick, sick man!" The woman held the now fresh-pine smelling kid in her arms and stormed off.
Scott turned to see everyone glaring at him.
"Rahne, don't say it."
"Uhg, hey, wait a minute!" said Fred.
"What is it now?!"
"How come Jean never said that to me?"
"Said what?"
"You know, what you said!"
"HUH?!"
"Never mind."
"Alright. Onto the next order of business. I wo-"
"Excuse'e mua, Missue, but ma-"
"EEEEEEP!"
Scott again withdrew his can of Lysol and sprayed the kid with it. This time, though, it was not a small child. This was now a boy around Kurt's age, with the beginnings of a mustache and a handsome suit on.
"My younger brother apparently came over here for an autograph, but some idiot sprayed him in the face with air fresionair. May I get an autograph for him?"
"Um, sure. Do you have a pen."
"Wee, here you are"
Scott again scribbled down his signature before turning back to his group.
"Aye, Oi tol-"
"Don't say it. Okay then, the meeting is almost over. Th-" Scott again stopped in mid-sentence. He noticed a small spot on his sweater. Whatever it was, Scott was getting red. He finally lost it.
"GOD! AHHH! STAIN STAIN STAIN! AAAAHH!!!" Scott ran across the entire café looking for anything to get the evil stain off of his sweater, and finally came to rest when he discovered a stain removal kit behind the podium where Gaston seated the customers.
He hurriedly opened it up and spread some of the liquid over the practically non-existent stain on his sweater. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief after the stain slowly disappeared. He pranced back to the table, now happier than tapeworm in a meat patty.
Because people had been starring at him throughout the entire time, he did not notice anyone giving him strange looks, including his guests.
As soon as he sat down, he noticed some kitty litter from somewhere on his pants. How it got there, Scott didn't care. He just screamed, "DEAR GOD! NOT MY PANTS TOO! AAAHH!!!"
~~~~
Jean was in her room at the X-Mansion when Scott walked in. "Scott! Where have you been?"
"Um, nowhere. Just, er, um, nowhere."
Jean went to go hug him, but stopped about a foot away. It seemed that there was some kind of force field around her love.
Finally, Scott fizzled out of existence and Fred stood in his place.
"HOW DID YOU GET THAT HOLO-WATCH?"
"Um. Er, uh. You're not mad at me, are you?"
"out, out, OUT OUT OUT!!!"
"CUT!" cried Stan Lee, as he walked on to the stage.
"What was that? And why are you here?"
~~~~
{In the basement of the X-Mansion}
"Guys? Hallo? Guys? Zis isn't funny anymore! I cannot see! And someone stole my image inducer! GUYS!"
******************************
I hope you liked it. In fact, tell me whether you like it or not with that little button down there that says 'Submit Review'. Thanks. Again, props to Aslyin.
Until next time,
Das vi danya.
-The Electric Russian