Where we last stopped, Kitty was reeling in shock from the news that she was banned forever from the kitchen. She LIKED cooking. It soothed her. She was sure her food was delicious… come to think of it; she'd never really tried a bit of her cooking. Not one slice of cake or bit of cookie.

Well, maybe her cooking did have disastrous results once… twice… okay, maybe every time. Perhaps she should take up another hobby, like… woodwork. Yeah. Kitty smiled confidently. You can't foul up when it comes to woodwork.

"Oh gawd, she's taking up woodwork," Sam muttered to himself, trying to hide from the intangible Kitty. "Why th' heck's she takin' up woodwork?" An' why, WHY did Ah evah tell Ray that Ah used ta carve stuff foah mah parents? he thought to himself.

"C'mon, Sam, you've, like, GOT to help me with, like, my project!" begged Kitty as she phased through closets and walls, searching for the elusive Sam. "Just one itty bitty wooden kitten! Pleeeeaaasssee…"

Meanwhile, as Kitty's voice faded away, Sam popped up from the pile of Bobby's dirty clothes, shuddering. Bobby's dirty clothes- never sent for washing, never sent for cleaning- were not something you want to curl up inside. Sam made his way to the balcony, stood there, wondering if he would break something were he to jump, then threw caution to the wind and fired off, finally landing amongst the trees. The very, very prickly trees.

The resulting "EEYEOW!" drew Kitty's attention, and she went straight to the nearest window overlooking the forest on the Institute estate. There, bouncing and crashing amid the treetops, was Sam. Kitty leaned out as far as she could.

"HEY, SAM!" she hollered. "ARE YOU TRYING TO, LIKE, ESCAPE FROM ME?"

"YES!" was the answer.

"HAHA, VERY FUNNY. NICE SARCASM," she yelled back.

"AH WASN'T BEIN' SARCASTIC!" Sam shouted as he tried to get away from the oddly bouncy treetops.

At last free, he managed yet again to evade Kitty and went directly to the 'Hood House. He knocked on the door, hurriedly looking himself over. Tabby opened the door.

"Sam?" she said incredulously. "What the fuck's up with ya? You look like- like- like Orlando Bloom after he's been chased by rabid fangirls. Without the good looks, o' course." Sam just gave her Rogue's patented Death Glare™. Tabby backed away, putting her hands up in a defensive position. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, no need ta give me the Rogue imitation. So, why're ya here?"

"Ah need a hidin' place," Sam responded. "Kitty got banned from th' kitchen an' she decided to take up woodwork, an' 'cause Ah used ta do woodwork too, she wants me ta help 'er."

"Yikes," Tabby observed. "If her cooking and driving skills are any indication, woodwork'd be a disaster too. Tell ya what, you can have the sofa until Kitty decides to do something else." She strode back in, Sam trailing in her wake. And what a nice wake (coughbuttcough) it was.

"Hey, fellas!" Tabby yelled. "We got a temporary guest!" There was a thundering down the stairs, from the kitchen, and from the living room. First appeared Pietro from his room upstairs, then Freddy from the kitchen, Toad from his room upstairs, and finally Lance from the living room.

"Aw, great, we got an X-geek," Pietro groaned.

"What're ya doin' here, X-geek?" Lance asked snidely. Sam stood his ground and put forth Rogue's Death Glare™ as best he could. All four 'Hood boys shrank back, each relieving the horrible memories of Rogue's brief stint as a 'Hood girl.

"Ah wouldn't be here if'n it weren't f'r yer girlfriend's terrible cookin' skills," Sam spat out.

(Insert divider)

Ooh, standoff! Will Lance admit Kitty's cooking is worse than being sent to Antarctica naked? Or will he defend his beloved's honour? Stay tuned!