Disclaimer: Ain't got no home, ain't got no shoes, ain't got no money, ain't got no class, ain't got no … you get the point. Ain't got no characters.
Caliente I know, I know, it's pathetic. But I'm building up to a grand finale, which by the way is coming sooner than I wanted it too, because of your review. I refuse to be a fluffy mushiness writer. So you win, here Remy-bashing by Rogue. Maybe I overdid it a bit…
Ishandahalf Thank you so much. But please, don't put any more bunnies on crack, really, it's getting crowded at Bunnies Anonymous… :o)
Sphinx 29 He-he…I mean, oops, sorry I made it pink…he-he. Anyway, thanx for still liking the story even though his suit is pink.
Lonewolf Great idea, a huge pop-massacre! And everyone can join in! So, don't forget your chainsaw and samurai sword! And those sharp and pointy teeth…
Jazzyboo Thanx. I know I've taken a while, but waiting and patience are two good virtues and…what am I saying? Here's an update! (I usually update once every week.)
A/N Goodness gracious me, another chapter (and a long one, too). Hope you like my fight avoidance, it's a gift really.
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11. First try of a worst case scenario
Fissie
Britney Spears walked up to the mansion: ''Oh, I wonder who lives here.'' She screeched.
He-he, just kiddin'. Don't kill me...
11b. Second try of a worst case scenarioFissie
Right after having given the files to Xavier, Jean and Gambit stood in front of Jean's room.
''Don' y'r companion in crime get a goodnight kiss?'' Remy said winking at Jean.
''I don't think so.'' A curt voice answered from behind him.
Remy didn't even turn around. ''Hello, Cycke. Nice pajamas.''
''Hi, Scott.'' Jean said smiling.
''How did it go?'' Scott asked in a much softer voice, most likely not directed to Remy.
~Gotta go before dis gets too mushy.~ He turned around and walked away passed Scott. ''You two go t' sleep now, ey. Don' go doin' anythin' I would do.''
Remy wasn't really tired yet. He was walking down the corridor, to the window at the end of the hall, his stairway to the roof, when he spotted a light coming from one of the rooms. He knocked on the door.
''Who is it?'' came a sleepy voice from within.
The door opened and Remy stepped in. ''Hi, chere. We woke y'?''
Rogue looked up from her book. ''Yeah, actually.'' She yawned. ''Didn't Ah lock the door?'' To Remy's very surprise, she didn't sound very happy to see him.
''Oui.''
''How did it go?''
''Good.''
''Did you get your goodnight kiss?'' All the sleepiness was gone from her voice and she was not amused.
''Ey?'' ~She jokin', non?~
''From Jean.'' She said coldly. ~She serious.~ He sighed. ~Women.~
''Non, I didn't. But what 'f I did? Why should you care?'' ~Like I don' know.~
Rogue didn't expect those questions. ''Ah thought...Ah just...Never mind, all right. Leave me alone, all right? Ah'd like to finish reading.'' Rogue had reached irritation level number 10.
''What book you readin'?''
'''Go get yourself trampled over by a truck, by Getoutof Myroom ''
''Nice.'' Remy said realizing he'd have to go about this some other way.
''You should read it, it might give you ideas.''
''Can I sit? Promise I'll behave.'' He approached the bed installed himself on it.
''What exactly did Ah say that sounded even remotely like 'Yes'?''
''Body language, chere.''
She glared at him, and Remy swore that he saw poisoned darts coming from her eyes to his general direction.
''Y' look nice widout all dat makup, y'know.'' He said, and tried one of his winning smiles.
''Wow, thanks. Ah'll never wear makeup again, now.'' Sarcasm dripping from every word she spoke.
''Why you mad?'' Remy pouted in that way he knew was irresistible.
She exploded. ''Are! You idiot. Are! Why ARE you mad? Speak English for once in your life. You annoying moron! Get out!'' Remy was certain she was capable of killing him, right now, right there. The thought scared him a bit. So he tried his best.
''Why _are _ you angry with me? What is it I have done that does not receive your approval, dear?'' His English accent was pretty good for a speech impaired Cajun, Rogue had to admit. ''I assure you, the only reason I asked Jean for a goodnight kiss was because I knew Cycke was standin', I mean standing, behind me. You know I don' wan' no kiss from no one else but you, chere.''
''Do Ah?''
''Y'should.''
''You've got a death wish, then?''
''Maybe. Can' think o' a better way t' go, dat's f'r sure.'' He smiled at her. He was surprised when he realized he actually more or less meant what he was saying. He was actually falling for that girl. What an uncomfortable feeling to have when one is trying to flirt oneself out of a death threatening situation. ''Well, best I be goin' now. Goodnight, chere.'' He leaned in for a kiss and realized too late that she probably would kill him for doing that. He flinched half expecting her to slap him in the face. Instead, she put her hand on his mouth and kissed it.
''Goodnight.'' She said. To her amusement Remy didn't come up with anything to say. He just smirked a bit more clumsily than usual and waved goodbye. She heard the lock of the door and smiled. Against better judgment of a great portion of her brain she had to admit that in some inexplicable way she liked that annoying Cajun.
Outside of her door stood one confused Acadian, who swore by everything he cared for that he would not ever in his life understand that, or as a matter of fact any, women. Ever.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Next day, morning, 10 o'clock.
''#...Somewhere I belong...#''
What power that may be was pissed at Remy LeBeau? For the umpteenth time since his arrival at the mansion his peaceful night rest was being disrupted. He tried to hide his face in his pillow. Useless. The music was too loud.
''#...Somewhere I belong...#''
He checked the alarm clock, it was ten in the morning. Weren't all the kids supposed to be at school by now? ~Dieu. Why me? I've always been a good li'l thief...~
He got up and slumped to the source of all evil, the room where the music was coming from. He didn't even see what room it was.
He knocked on the door. No answer. He continued knocking, until knocking became banging and banging became slamming.
''Cut de fucking noise! Dere's people tryin' t' sleep!'' No answer came. He gave up slamming, his fist still on the door. The music continued blaring.
''How does Logan sleep through all o' dis wid his senses?'' He muttered to himself.
''HE DOESN'T!'' A gruff voice shouted from downstairs, presumably from the kitchen.
Rogue was sitting on her bed. She was listening to Linkin Park while reading her book. Suddenly she noticed her door was pinkish. ~Damn. Ah thought I told Kitty not to paint anything else pink.~ Than she noticed the door was _glowing_ pinkish. ~Remy?~ She turned the volume down, just ever so slightly to be able to shout above the music. ''Hey don't blow up mah door, Cajun! Can't you just knock like any other decent person?''
''Ey?'' ~O merde, I'm chargin' de door.~ He retrieved the charge.
'''What do you want?'' She shouted.
''Can y' please turn de volume down!''
''Ah just did!''
''A bit more dan dat, chere.'' He sounded a bit patronizing. Rogue did not appreciate that change in his voice.
The door opened. ''Don't y' have t' go t' school or somethin'?'' Remy asked in the same tone.
''Not yet. The English teacher called in sick.'' She said smiling, but there was something about that smile that Remy didn't like at all.
''Den could y' turn de volume down. I'm tryin' t' sleep here.''
''Then sleep somewhere else.'' She sneered ''This is mah room, so Ah can do whatever the hell Ah want.''
''Can' y' do whatever de hell y' want wid less decibels?''
''No.''
Remy sighed. ~Talk about a split personality. First she act all lovable and kissable next thing she's...I give up.~ ''What's dat music anyway?''
''It's a band called Linkin Park.''
''It sucks.''
''Oh and Ah suppose your taste in music is great.''
''Better dan dis rubbish. Lincoln Hark?''
''Linkin Park.''
''Linkin Park. Sound like every oder band y'hear on de radio.''
''That is not true. It only states that you know nothing about music.''
''Chere, everything y' hear on de radio sound de same. Dey have a hundred names f'r it but it's all Medio-core in de end.'' (*)
''Take that back!''
''Non. De music is too loud, predictable an' unoriginal.''
''How can you say that? Do you have ears? Listen to it!''
He listened. The song continued, or was in another song. Remy didn't know. ''Oh, now I see de deeper truer meanin' o' de song.''
She smiled satisfied. She knew she'd win.
''Didn't know Sesame street had a band o' its own.''
Why did that Cajun have to butt in to everything? ''You're just upset because you have no feeling for music and Ah do!''
''Y'r just annoyed I realize dey make music f'r money an' fame and not from devotion.''
''You're just a poor musically frustrated Swamp Rat with...'' More insults were shouted in his direction. ~I must have a real gift f'r upsettin' women. Maybe I'm lucky. Maybe it's just dat time o' de month.~ ''...and cut your hair for once in your life, you look like a homeless street rat!'' She slammed the door shut and turned the volume back on 'extremely loud'. Gambit was slightly thrown off balance by that last comment, it reminded him of someone else. Someone he remembered well.
''Dieu, dat girl's worse den m' wife.'' He rubbed his temples. He didn't say it that loud. Really, not at all. But luck was something Remy seemed to be without these days.
''WHAT?''
Remy heard a chuckle coming from downstairs, but he ignored it. ~M' an' m' big mouth. Remy LeBeau you fils de...~ ''What, chere?'' He said in his most angelical voice.
''_What_ did you just say?''
''Nothin'?''
He door opened. ''Your wife? You're married?''
He took a deep breath. ''Define married.'' He tried innocently.
''Married as in family gathering, bride, rings and cake.''
''Hmm. I never really got to de cake bit...''
''You're _married_?!''
''Sort of.''
''Sort of?''
''It's not what it looks like. Let m' explain.''
''Get out!''
''Chere, I...'' A flying book quickly approaching him interrupted Remy's pleadings. He only barely managed to avoid it hitting his face. The door slammed back shut and Remy just stood there. ~What way t' start a day.~
He found Logan in the kitchen, reading the news paper and sipping coffee with a grin on his face.
''Still alive?'' He asked not even looking up from his paper.
Remy threw the book on the table. ''Jus' barely. Girl's got a mean aim.'' He passed to the counter and grabbed a clean mug.
''Is it true? You're married?'' Logan asked looking up this time.
'''Fraid so. You made dis?'' Remy lifted the coffeepot. Logan nodded. ''Good, den I can drink it.'' He said filling the cup.
''So kid, why are you here and not with the missus?''
''She's a murderous trained assassin.'' Remy said blankly, staring through the window.
''Point taken.'' Logan said and went back to the sport section of the paper.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
''Alright everybody, we've examined the files Gambit and Jean gathered. The plans are far more advanced than we could hope for. The FOH is practically existent already. It stands for Friends Of Humanity. They have numerous wealthy members, and a lot of weaponry at their disposal. There's a file here that seems coded, it makes no sense whatsoever, I will look in to it more closely later. It also says here that they talked to the president, it says here they've convinced him, but I haven't heard that yet. The incident a few days ago with the mutant was triggered by the FOH, they knew how to startle the girl, and they sent a few men there to cause general panic. The plans here state they know another mutant and will make him cause a riot as well. Maybe, if we can reach him before they can cause the riot, we can prevent it. If we succeed then perhaps the mutant registration law will be put away. If we fail, Kramer will talk to the president again and he may succeed.''
''Who's the new mutant?''
''Robert Drake. The boy has cryomorphic abilities.''
''The kid can make ice-cubes? What's he gonna do? Fill everyone coffee with ice?'' Logan mockingly said.
''Hey. 'F he does dat in de mornin', he could start a war.'' Remy warned.
''It is unknown to what extent his powers have manifested. This is his profile.'' Xavier continued talking while Bishop handed some papers to the rest of the team. ''He has been followed for several weeks and he goes to the mall with his friends every week, tomorrow to be precise. We have to be there and get to the boy before the FOH does.''
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
The boy was found without much problems in a busy mall. The man that would scare him was there too plus a few others who would cause more panic. Mission: to get them away from the boy. No problems there. Wolverine is a persuasive man, especially when his claws are mere inches away from his 'victim'. Everything went smoothly. That was, until the Men in Green appeared out of everywhere. They wore green suits and greenish sunglasses, imagine Matrix-style.
''Who sent in de Oompa–Loompa's?'' was the last smart remark made before mayhem started.
The fight was big. Think really big. Like universe big. Like wow-that-was-one-big-fight big. Yeah. A lot of things got smashed. No innocent bystanders were injured, thanks to Jean and Xavier's telepathic shields. Not thanks to Wolverine or Gambit's concern of any one around them.
Suddenly Gambit heard gunfire too close to him. He looked at himself. ~Not dead. Not even injured. He missed me.~ He looked down and he saw it. The horror. The agony. The terror. He flung himself to his attacker and smashed him into a wall. He spoke, composed, as he should, not flaring with anger as he felt.
''You ruined m' coat. You die. Simple, ney?'' The grin on his face and the glowing red eyes burning a hole in the man made him look like an unpredictable demonic maniac. With glowing hands on his now slightly glowing green coat. The attacker gulped and didn't dare to move. Apparently demons don't like it when their coat gets filled with holes. This might be a good thing to remember for another day.
All of a sudden a scream disrupted the glowing. Gambit looked to the direction of the scream. Rogue was on the floor, reaching her head with both hands.
''Rogue? Rogue!'' In a flash, Gambit removed the charge of the man's coat. Before leaving, he looked back at the man once more. ''We finish dis some oder day ey?'' He smiled, patted the man's cheek and let go. The man fainted as Gambit ran towards Rogue who was still on the ground screaming.
''Chere, you okay?''
''Do Ah look okay?!'' She tried to shout, but it didn't sound louder than a whisper.
Gambit sat down on his knees and lifted her head, so it wouldn't be on the hard cold floor, careful not to touch the sleeveless arm. Her suit hadn't been treated nicely either. ''Dat a trick question?''
''They're in mah head. All of them. Ah tried...So much hate. So much...Ah...Ah...''
''Shh. Don' worry. I stay here. It be over soon, non? We jus' wait.'' Gambit caressed her covered arm with one hand while flinging a card to a quickly approaching assailant. ''Maybe we do de waitin' somewhere else, ey, chere.'' He lifted her, quite unceremoniously, put her over his shoulder and took her to Xavier.
''She absorbed a few men at once, I think. She's confused.'' He put her down, she didn't even move. ''An' unconscious at de moment.''
''I'll take care of her. We've almost beaten these men. I need you to see to Robert. He's confused and frightened. We can't afford to loose him now.''
''Sure thin'.''
The boy was easily found, hurled up in a small corner covered in an armor of ice, whishing he was home, with a nice cup of freezing tea. He didn't see the shaded man in green that was approaching him from behind fast and furiously. He didn't see the rage on the man's face. He didn't see the bat in his hand. He didn't see the man come nearer and nearer. He didn't see the flying card until it exploded right behind him, smashing into a near wall and saving the him. But he didn't know that. So instead of gratitude, Remy received a long line of high pitched screamy curses, telling him he should watch were he throws his cards in colorful ways. He rolled his eyes and approached the kid.
''Stop screamin' like a girl at a Backstreet Boys concert.'' He grabbed the kid's collar and dragged him along.
''You nearly killed me!'' The kid said, while struggling the hold rather unsuccessfully.
''Don' whine. I aimed at de man behind y'. I hardly ever miss a target.''
''Hardly ever? You put my life at risk because you 'hardly ever' miss?'' The boy yelled.
''Apparently, yes. Let's go. Now.'' He pushed the boy towards the rest of the team.
''I don't believe this. Get the fuck away from me, freak.''
''Freak? Y'callin' _me_ a freak? Who's de human Popsicle ruinin' de whole town here?''
''Don't go blaming _me_. You just blew half that building away!''
Gambit turned around and saw the slightly scorched wall. The kid followed his gaze. Then he followed Remy's gaze to the broken down monument that was still dripping melting ice.
''Oh, right...But you _did_ almost kill me!''
''I only wish.''
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Saving the boy from a bunch of FOH-people was one thing. Convincing the kid to actually come with them was another.
''I'd like to go home now.''
''We saved your life, you could at least be grateful.'' Scott complained.
''I am. Very. Now let me go home.''
''Come with us. We can help you.'' Jean said caringly.
''I'm not going anywhere. I'm just fine, I don't need help.''
''You live hidden. Whenever you transform to your ice-form by accident you run away from everything because you don't want anyone to know who you are. We can teach you how to control your powers and how to use them for good purposes.'' Xavier explained.
''Just leave me alone, okay. I don't need you. I don't need anyone.'' Seeing the mild approach not working, Wolverine grabbed his arm.
''You're coming with us, kid.''
Bobby yanked away from Logan. ''My _name_ is Bobby. I'm not a kid. And I'm not going anywhere with the likes of you.''
''Bobby, mon ami, come here.'' Remy said in a very friendly way while putting an arm around Bobby and moving them away from the rest. ''Walk wid me.'' Not having much choice Bobby moved along with Remy. ''You come wid us, ey, like any oder good boy. Dese here are good people. Dey only here to help, dey won' hurt y'. Trust me.'' While lowering his head a little, he added, only audible to Wolverine. ''An' y' _do_ want t' trust me, cher. Cos 'f y' don' come wid us right now, you gonna regret de day y'r poppa an' momma met. See, I don' much like ruinin' a coat f'r nothin'.'' He tightened his grip on the boys arm and lowered his eyes. The boy could now clearly gaze into two burning red on black eyes. ''Tu comprends?''
The boy nodded in sheer terror upon which a smile appeared on Remy's face. ''Good.'' He turned back around and announced. ''He's comin' wid us.''
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Somewhere in an office in New York''They've ruined our plan. Do we know these pests?''
''Yes, but they're a bigger threat than we expected them to be.''
''In that case we must take harder measures.''
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Remy cooked that evening, which was quite a sight to say the least. He cooked in the typical closed-kitchen style. For those culinary challenged among you, the closed-kitchen style is the way food is prepared in restaurants you rather bring your own spoon to, because you don't know how the spoons you get there are cleaned, but you suspect it has to do with a drooling dog. You know, the kind of restaurant you sit for the first time and have a wonderful and good tasting meal at until you spot the kitchen doors open because the waiter just came out and you see a million dirty pots, not one clean white tile, a cook licking the spoon he's just tasted the soup with and sticking it back in the soup and a cat just lying there quite harmlessly until you see where it's lying; in front of a small hole in the wall where mice are undoubtedly celebrating a grand feast, catered by all the food that is lying on the floor. It is then and only then that you realize you don't feel so good and blame the food for it. Sick people can get a decent restaurant in trouble. They don't like that idea much. And that, my friends, is why some restaurants cook in the closed-kitchen style.
In accordance to this style Remy tasted the boiling liquid in on of the pots with a wooden spoon. ''Perfect.'' He chided to himself while stirring the liquid some more. He took part of the already chopped tomatoes ate a few of them and took the rest of them with his bare hands and put them in the pot. Wiping his hands on the once-upon-a-time white apron, not minding greasing his black and old 'Honk if you've never seen a gun fired from a moving chopper'-shirt, he undid and retied his hair in an attempt to lock a loose stand of hair back with the rest. It worked, for now. The strand was shorter then the rest and would be out again in no time. Hopefully not when he would look down the contents of the pot to see if the Gumbo (A/N what else.) looked all right. He took the newspaper he had been reading sat on the counter, right next to the freshly chopped vegetables and continued with the Sports section. See, a typical closed-kitchen style of cooking. It probably tastes great but you don't necessarily feel the need to see how it's been prepared.
Remy also worked alone. Very, very alone. He didn't allow anyone within a 10 mile radius of the kitchen. So far he had successfully managed to be left to his cooking, aided by a few charged knifes that looked real dangerous even from afar. However, Wolverine wasn't in the least bothered by so called territorial claims. He wanted a coke, the coke was in the fridge, the fridge was in kitchen. Simple as that.
''Smells good kid. Want some coke too?''
Wanting to protest to the invasion of his personal cooking-space but remembering just in time about two sets of adamantium claws, Remy wisely said ''Sure.'' and put the paper down to check on his cooking one more time.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Dinner that evening was one big riot. Of course bystanders had seen the fight. The kids being exposed in public would not be good for them. So, everyone was talking about it, all together, at once in a very unorganized way.
''Everyone at school vill know about us, now.''
''Yeah, I'll be kicked out of the basketball team, man.''
''We'll, like, be kicked out of school all together.''
''Y'r upset cos y' won' hav' t' go t' school no more?'' Remy shook his head in unbelief. ''Someone explain.''
''Some of us enjoy having proper education, Gambit. It makes us capable of adding some level to our conversations.''
A shrimp was launched in Scott's general direction. ''Shrimp, Scott, Scott, Shrimp. Now y' can talk t' someone on y'r own level.'' The poor sea-creature landed in his hair. Scott was not amused. Remy was. And so, the delicate balance was once again restored.
''I suggest that if such a thing truly happens we could teach the students here at the mansion.'' Hank said to Xavier.
''Yes. That would be a marvelous idea. I could teach you English and Economics. 'Ro could teach Biology and Geography, . Hank could teach Physics and Chemistry. Logan could handle Self defense. And Remy could teach History.'' Xavier answered.
Remy heard the conversation and looked up in surprise ''Ey? What you say?''
''You could teach history. And perhaps French for those who are interested.''
''History an' French?''
''For those interested.''
''I don' think so.''
''We all have to help such a situation.''
''Y'r kiddin', right. Me, as a teacher? Well, y'sure got a sense o' humor, Xavier.''
''Why would I be kidding?''
''Let's start at point 86 and go down from dere...''
''Well I think...'' Scott interrupted.
''Scott, I didn't ask you.'' Xavier warned.
A hint of light shone in the Cajun's mind. ~Scott don' like de idea o' me bein' a teacher much, ey. Ask y'rself a question, LeBeau: Do you need any more encouragement to accept de offer? Non.~ ''Fine. I do it. But m' classes start no earlier den twelve.'' He pointed a wooden spoon towards Xavier warningly.
''Of course.''
''Bon. What does history classes teach kids nowadays?''
~ Nowadays?~ Scott thought. ~ As if he ever took a history class in his entire life.~
''We have a book on, like, the Cold War.'' Kitty said, excited to the possibility of having a cute teacher for once in her life.
''De Cold War? Where dey fight dat? De Artic?''
''Are you sure he is fit to teach the children?'' Hank whispered to Xavier.
''Most certainly.''
''Let's stop de borin' talk. Dis is what all of you have been waitin' for. You thought you knew what good food looked like? Feast y'r eyes on dis, den.'' Remy put the plates on the table. The food looked incredibly good, very promising indeed.
''Smells great.''
''Jus' wait 'till y' taste it, mon ami.''
''You must tell me the recipe.'' Storm smilingly said.
''Can', Stormy. Ancient family secret. Dis recipe goes wid me t' de grave. Feel free t' dig it up, dough. Bon appetit.''
Kurt was the first to dip in. The word moderation was unknown to him as he took a first bite. And a second and a third. All in one motion. Suddenly he stopped, his eyes becoming very watery. His nose cringed. ''Vater, vater. Now!'' He cried out and a glass of water was gulped back in a few seconds. ''Man, dat's hot. Are you trying to kill us?''
Remy laughed. ''Down on de Bayou we have a sayin'. If y' can' beat dem, invite dem over f'r dinner.''
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A/N That's it for this week…ahem, three weeks. Anyway, I hope you liked it, I hope you laughed and I hope you understood my impaired English.
On next: Well, let's keep it simple for once: Review or Christina is 'on next'…he-he.
(*) A/N Sorry for fans of Linkin Park and co, but I didn't want Remy to like the same music as Rogue (he likes jazz), and I figured Rogue likes L.P. and that kind of stuff. Don't whine. You should all be happy I didn't have her like Westlife. :-) I repeat: I am not trying to insult anyone, I kinda appreciate L.P. too, so don't be angry.
Everyone has his/her a certain style of music that he/she calls Medio-core.
Medio-Core
Nofx
Medio-core, It's not forsaken
The music they're makin'
Will leave you woke up
Feeling of indifference
How was the band?
They were okay
Not great, but pretty good
They played the songs I knew they would
Some old, some new
They say the formula stays true
You can't concur
It's Medio-core
Sing
Sing a song
Make it simple
So all the kids can sing along
Sing along
The list keeps growin'
The melodies been stolen
Remind me of songs sung in the 70's
You might fool the kids
But you don't fool me
Have you ever heard of something called
aboriginality
Is it absurd
To compose music no one's ever heard
Predictability
Like a bussom will confront them
My one true foe
L.C.D.
Medio-core
This other power
Who rips the lofty flower
Spreading faster
Than British tooth decay
Are you ready to run?
How are you all doin tonight?
You condensential fucks
Make me wanna laugh and puke at the same time
I want to speak
The soft sounds like they do
I've heard before
Medio-core
Sing
Sing a song
Make it simple
So all the kids can sing along
Sing along