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striptease later on. Woo-hoo!
Oh, disclaimer: Everything I do not own, I do not own.
Remy laughed and tossed St. John an unmarked, opaque Tupperware container. When he opened the lid the reek that wafted out of it was intense.
"Ulgh! Remy, mate, come on!" Pyro exclaimed. "I eat this and I'll have to go to the emergency room with food poisoning."
"Twenty dollars or not, he cannot eat that," Piotr agreed. "But either way, put the lid back on it! It stinks!"
Remy peeked inside before the lid was back on. Inside there was an assortment of molds growing over whatever the food substance used to be. Maybe a pasta of some kind; it was impossible to tell. The entire container was thrown into the garbage and Remy reached for something else to give John.
"Fine, fine," he grabbed a tin foil covered plate off one of the shelves. "Here, eat dis."
Pyro lifted the foil to see a... fried chicken breast, he thought. It looked dehydrated, but he'd already passed up on one item, and at least this one wasn't a garden yet. He went and got a fork, but when he tried to stab the piece of meat it rebounded off.
"Ummm...?"
"So use y' teeth an' fingers," Remy suggested.
[Twen'y dollars better be worth it,] John thought.
Both young men watched John wrestle with the lift over chicken. It was like watching wolves eat on the Discovery Channel.
Piotr looked away first and realized that he was out of chili about ten seconds before Remy did. Gambit looked back in the fridge and tried to find something else that was still edible.
"Here, Petey. Pretty sure it ain't alive."
Colossus took the bowl covered in tin foil and looked inside. In it was Jell-o, with fruit bits wiggleing around. Piotr made a face.
"This is John's..."
"Travesty?" Remy suggested.
Piotr nodded. "I am allergic to it," he decided.
John grabbed the bowl, gulping down the last of his chicken. He attacked his last portion with the determination of a man who has nothing but his life to lose, and money to gain, so what's the harm?
"O-kay," Gambit shrugged. "Um... here."
It was a smallish Gladware bowl-thingy full of a red goopy-looking substance. Piort opened it carefully, as if it would explode if it wasn't handled correctly, and sniffed.
"Strawberries?"
St. John looked up from his Jell-o mess. "When did we have those?"
"Dey're mine."
"When did you make them?"
"Ya 'member couple'a nights ago when I didn' come back 'til noon?" he asked. The other two nodded. "De chick was a student chef at de local college, livin' at home wit' 'er parents. She shoved de leftovers off on me."
Piotr pushed the container away. Even John looked mildly disturbed.
"You eat it," Colossus said. "I did not know that girl."
Remy was a little offended by that. "I _said_ it was de leftovers. De stuff we _didn'_ use. It's perfec'ly safe t' eat."
Piotr just looked at him, his expression stony- or metallic, as the case may be. "No."
"Den ya fo'fit," Remy grinned.
Piotr opened his mouth to tell the Cajun off, but St. John cut in.
"I don't feel good, mates." The Australian was looking a little green around the edges. John pushed his bowl away and laid his head down on his arm, moaning in a not-good way.
Remy and Piotr passed a look and quickly got up from the table and moved to the other side of the room. If Pyro was going to blow chunks, neither wanted to be in the same room. Both made a mad dash for the door. They retreated to the TV room to find something to watch. _Swordfish_ was on STARZ, so they watched that, the volume cranked up in case John did puke. They didn't want to hear him. "Do you think we should have left Saint John in the kitchen alone?" Piotr asked over the background music coming from the surround sound speakers.
"Dere are very few people I'd stick around t' see if dey were alright, an' John ain't one o' 'um," Remy yelled back.
The big Russian nodded and went back to trying to follow the plot of the movie.
The volume was up so high that neither heard the warning sounds of Sabertooth on the rampage. Poor, stupid boys.
Well, hope you liked. And, yes, I know that St. John probably didn't really get salmonella, but it makes a good title, no? Just like last time, I need feedback if you want me to continue, so go! Go! Go! ( Luv you!
Oh, disclaimer: Everything I do not own, I do not own.
Remy laughed and tossed St. John an unmarked, opaque Tupperware container. When he opened the lid the reek that wafted out of it was intense.
"Ulgh! Remy, mate, come on!" Pyro exclaimed. "I eat this and I'll have to go to the emergency room with food poisoning."
"Twenty dollars or not, he cannot eat that," Piotr agreed. "But either way, put the lid back on it! It stinks!"
Remy peeked inside before the lid was back on. Inside there was an assortment of molds growing over whatever the food substance used to be. Maybe a pasta of some kind; it was impossible to tell. The entire container was thrown into the garbage and Remy reached for something else to give John.
"Fine, fine," he grabbed a tin foil covered plate off one of the shelves. "Here, eat dis."
Pyro lifted the foil to see a... fried chicken breast, he thought. It looked dehydrated, but he'd already passed up on one item, and at least this one wasn't a garden yet. He went and got a fork, but when he tried to stab the piece of meat it rebounded off.
"Ummm...?"
"So use y' teeth an' fingers," Remy suggested.
[Twen'y dollars better be worth it,] John thought.
Both young men watched John wrestle with the lift over chicken. It was like watching wolves eat on the Discovery Channel.
Piotr looked away first and realized that he was out of chili about ten seconds before Remy did. Gambit looked back in the fridge and tried to find something else that was still edible.
"Here, Petey. Pretty sure it ain't alive."
Colossus took the bowl covered in tin foil and looked inside. In it was Jell-o, with fruit bits wiggleing around. Piotr made a face.
"This is John's..."
"Travesty?" Remy suggested.
Piotr nodded. "I am allergic to it," he decided.
John grabbed the bowl, gulping down the last of his chicken. He attacked his last portion with the determination of a man who has nothing but his life to lose, and money to gain, so what's the harm?
"O-kay," Gambit shrugged. "Um... here."
It was a smallish Gladware bowl-thingy full of a red goopy-looking substance. Piort opened it carefully, as if it would explode if it wasn't handled correctly, and sniffed.
"Strawberries?"
St. John looked up from his Jell-o mess. "When did we have those?"
"Dey're mine."
"When did you make them?"
"Ya 'member couple'a nights ago when I didn' come back 'til noon?" he asked. The other two nodded. "De chick was a student chef at de local college, livin' at home wit' 'er parents. She shoved de leftovers off on me."
Piotr pushed the container away. Even John looked mildly disturbed.
"You eat it," Colossus said. "I did not know that girl."
Remy was a little offended by that. "I _said_ it was de leftovers. De stuff we _didn'_ use. It's perfec'ly safe t' eat."
Piotr just looked at him, his expression stony- or metallic, as the case may be. "No."
"Den ya fo'fit," Remy grinned.
Piotr opened his mouth to tell the Cajun off, but St. John cut in.
"I don't feel good, mates." The Australian was looking a little green around the edges. John pushed his bowl away and laid his head down on his arm, moaning in a not-good way.
Remy and Piotr passed a look and quickly got up from the table and moved to the other side of the room. If Pyro was going to blow chunks, neither wanted to be in the same room. Both made a mad dash for the door. They retreated to the TV room to find something to watch. _Swordfish_ was on STARZ, so they watched that, the volume cranked up in case John did puke. They didn't want to hear him. "Do you think we should have left Saint John in the kitchen alone?" Piotr asked over the background music coming from the surround sound speakers.
"Dere are very few people I'd stick around t' see if dey were alright, an' John ain't one o' 'um," Remy yelled back.
The big Russian nodded and went back to trying to follow the plot of the movie.
The volume was up so high that neither heard the warning sounds of Sabertooth on the rampage. Poor, stupid boys.
Well, hope you liked. And, yes, I know that St. John probably didn't really get salmonella, but it makes a good title, no? Just like last time, I need feedback if you want me to continue, so go! Go! Go! ( Luv you!