Disclaimer: I do not own any of the X-Men/marvel characters, some of these lines are not even mine but taken or paraphrased from various cartoons and comics I've read. What can I say, but I suck with dialogue. Just have some story in my head that won't go away so I'm writing it down.
NINE TO FIVE: Chapter Three - Cheeseburgers and Sugar Daddies
In downtown Bayville, three men walked away from the music store Vinyl Vintage. One was bounding restlessly from one side of the sidewalk to the other, laughing loudly and occasionally hitting the tall, dark haired one with the sunglasses. The third guy, built like a brick house, quietly walked next to the one with the sunglasses.
St. John Allerdyce now walked along the right side of Remy LeBeau, still laughing hysterically. "You're losin' your touch, mate!" John slapped Remy on the back. "After all the numbers you got from the artsy Sheilas when we picked up Petey from the art store, I was beginning to think you had some sorta 'charming' power but now...HA HA HA HA HA."
The Cajun shoved the hyperactive Aussie toward the street, "Do ya ever shut up? Geez, you sound like some frickin' laughin' hyena."
John made a puppy face. "Oh, you poor little Cajun. Did you get burned by the pretty little X-geek? Poor baby."
Remy lunged at him again, but missed as his prey ran ahead toward a brightly lit diner. "I'm starved, lets grab a bite."
Remy and the reserved Piotr Rasputin followed St. John into the diner and they all sat down in a booth by the window.
"Why don' ya stop raggin' on me, St. John-boy," Remy addressed his teamate. "Petey here's da one wit' da new girlfriend."
"But I teased Petey all afternoon," John explained. "Share the wealth, Cajun. Besides, I think Petey here has his eye on a different X-geek." Piotr blushed and John started poking him. "Don't ya, Petey. I saw you staring at the sprite from the time she first walked in."
Piotr blushed even harder. "I do not know what you are talking about."
"So da man o' steel likes de petite over de goth," the playboy Remy mused.
"Rogue is a little, how do you say it, overbearing," Piotr tried to avert the conversation away from himself.
It didn't work. "But dat's half da fun, mon ami," Remy replied. "You like your women sweet an' i like 'em wit' a little sauce. So...when you gonna ask da petite out, homme?"
The shy Russian was saved from a response by the waitress coming to take their order. "What will you boys like?"
"I'll have a cheeseburger and some chips along with a soda," John said. Remy realized the Aussie didn't realize what he truly ordered and almost asked but then thought better of it. It'll be more fun dis way.
"I'll have some hot 'n spicy chicken wings 'n some french fries wit' a coke, mon belle femme," the Cajun ordered with a smile. The waitress blushed slightly.
"I would like a BLT and fries and a coke..oh and a banana split," the Russian smiled imagining the ice cream melt in his mouth.
"Alright boys, I'll be back in a jiffy." The waitress spun around and strutted back to the kitchen, knowing the Cajun was checking her out.
Remy had gathered ten phone numbers that day, soon to be eleven if all went well with the waitress, but he only had one girl on his mind and it showed. "Now dat femme Remy understands, but de southern belle..."
St. John picked up on it. "Am I sensing a little more than flirtation with the Goth on Remy's part? I think so!" He laughed.
Remy ignored him. "So Petey, when are you gonna ask de petite out?"
Piotr blushed again. "I have never talked to her before. Also I think she has a boyfriend, the earth shaker boy from Magento's other group."
"Do ya mean dat puny little homme wit' the temper tantrums? Avalanche, I think." Remy assured his friend, "I know what dat kinda femme likes, an' if she met you an' your artsy, sensitive self, she would forget all about de other boy."
Piotr looked up hopefully. "Do you really think so?"
"Wouldn' say so if I didn', mon ami."
"And what about me, matchmaker Remy?" St. John inquired. "What kind of girl would be into me? Sweet, sour..?"
Remy looked John up and down and declared, "A crazy one."
The boy did not get the chance to hurt the male yenta for his insult, because their conversation was interrupted by the waitress bringing the food. Piotr dug right in while Remy waited for Johnny-boy's reaction to his American cheeseburger and chips.
"This isn't my food," St. John told the waitress. Remy smiled.
"I'm sorry, I thought you ordered a cheeseburger and chips," the waitress said apologetically.
"I did," Pyro said. He opened his cheeseburger. "Where's the beet! And what in the blazes are these?" John fingered the potato chips and then dropped them back on the plate.
The waitress gave him a blank stare. "'Where's the beef?' I guarantee that that is great A cow right there."
"Not the beef. Are you deaf, Sheila?" John fumed. "Where's the bloody beet?!"
"Who the hell is Sheila? Can't you read? My name is Diane. And I'm sorry that you lost your beat, but I hope you find it someday, along with your marbles."
The waitress turned to leave but Remy grabbed her arm. "I'm sorry, belle, please come back. My friend here is non too familiar with American food yet." The waitress raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Ya see, belle, dese crazy Australian's don' put beef patties on deir cheeseburgers, dey seem ta think dat beets, yes, dose gross, red canned things, go on cheeseburgers. Dey also call french fries chips instead. Crazy chaps, I think it's all de sun." Remy tapped the side of his head. "It fries da brain."
"You bloody Cajun! I'm gonna fry your brains!" The firebug reached into his pocket to grab his lighter but found it missing.
"Looking for dis, mon ami." Waving John's lighter in front of his face, Remy taunted him. John reached for it, but Remy pulled it away. "Nah, ah, ah. You first apologize to da belle."
Pyro sat down and mumbled, "I'm sorry."
"Now, belle, would you mind gettin' my humbled friend here some french fries an' if ya could find a beet in da back dat would be nice."
"Sure, handsome, anything you say." The waitress disappeared into the kitchen to find a beet.
With stomaches full of greasy foods, the three henchmen pulled into their boss's new "Top Secret Headquarters." The were surprised to find Magento attempting to back up a small semi-truck to a side door of the base. They watched stealthily from the vehicle for several minutes as he ground the gears and hopped out to see how close he was to the building, then hop back into the cab to readjust the vehicle.
"Why doesn't he use his powers?" John whispered to the other two who shrugged. Magneto finally turned off the engine of the big rig and glanced in the direction of the vehicle. All three ducked down in their seats. "Think he saw us?" They knew he had when the doors opened by themselves.
Magneto burst from the back of the truck carrying a large brown box. "Excellent, you are back. Now unload these boxes and put them in my study."
"What is in the boxes, boss?" Piotr asked while picking up two boxes, one for each shoulder.
"Nothing you should concern yourself with, boy," Magneto huffed.
"Okkkkaaaaayyy, I better be getting paid for this labor," he mumbled
The truck was almost all unloaded when Piotr had the brilliant idea of carrying a third box on his head. The results were predictable: The box and its contains spilled out onto the asphalt.
Remy pick up one of the objects and studied it, bewildered. "What in de world would Magneto want wit' a truckload of Etch-a-sketches? I mean, I knew dat he was de crazy take-over-da-world kinda guy, but what kinda evil plot does he have involving these?"
"Maybe he's gonna torture the X-geeks with them. You know, make them spend hours drawing something and the second they set it down, drop it and make them do it all over again. Or give them each one and tell them it's a new laptop and they have to decipher it before the whole city explodes!" the crazy pyromaniac speculated.
Piotr and Remy stared at John like he was a crack monkey. The Cajun faced the other sane one. "Oui, only a crazy femme would fall for John-Boy."
Again, St. John did not get to defend himself, because Magneto came out and saw the mess.
"I ask you boys to do one simple thing, unload the truck, and you can't even do that right," Magneto yelled. "And I thought you were more talented than the Brotherhood."
"Pardon, my askin', but Magneto," Remy said, "why do you need a truckload of Etch-a-sketches?"
"For my work, of course," Magneto said as-matter-of-factly. "What, do you think all of my secret hideouts and capes and your paychecks fall out of the sky?"
"No," the three said simultaneously but keeping the confused looks on their faces.
Magneto sighed. "I draw pictures in the Etch-a-sketches, take out the insides and then sell them as art."The Acolytes were stunned and silent. "At least my occupation has a little more dignity than Charles's," Magneto retorted.
"Why? What does he do?" one of the Acolytes was silly enough to ask.
At Xaxier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Rogue stood outside Professor Xavier's office, nervously shifting her weight from one foot to another. Ah hope Xavier isn' gonna be upset that ah took the job. Ah'm not gonna be able ta do trainin' sessions after school everyday, ah hope that's not a big deal. Why can' he get off the phone already so ah can tell 'em. 'kay, Rogue, calm down. The job is a great opportunity for ya, an' it'll help teach ya responsibility an' independence, blah, blah, blah...Ah hope ah sound more convincin' ta the Prof than ah do ta mahself.
Rogue heard the phone hang up inside the room, and the professor called out, "You may come in now, Rogue."
Well here goes nothin', Rogue thought as she pushed open the door.
"Hello, Professor. Well...today...see," Rogue stammered. Why am ah so nervous? This is mah life an' ah gotta job. Ah'm not a little girl, ah made my own decision. "Professor ah was offered a job at this music store, an' ah accepted it." There. That was easy.
Professor remained thoughtful for a moment and then asked, "Are you sure that that is wise, Rogue? I don't expect you to dwindle in your school work or training. Are you sure you can balance that sort of workload? Plus with all the anti-mutant hysteria flaring up lately, it might be dangerous for you and your employer."
"But Professor, he knows ah'm a mutant. There was kinda an episode there today while ah was shopping, an' that's part o' the reason he wants me ta work there. He liked the way ah handled the situation, all non-violent and such." Rogue babbled trying to defend her decision.
The Professor gave her one of his 'I'm still not convinced' looks.
"Ah can totally handle it, Professor. Ah'm only workin' after school three days a week an' every other weekend, an' if it's slow, Jamal said ah can work on mah homework there. Ah can have mah trainin' sessions in the mornin' if that's alrigh' with Logan an' ya don't have ta give me any sort o' allowance anymore 'cause ah'll be working," Rogue continued to defend her cause.
The professor's expression did not change.
Rogue broke down. "Please, professor, ah promise that if mah grades suffer, ah'll cut back on mah hours."
The professor continued to glare.
"Alrigh', alrigh', if mah grades slip ah'll quit."
The professor's expression lightened. "Since your heart seems set on working, Rogue, we can try it out for a while." A huge grin appeared on Rogue's face, and she had to restrain herself from acting like Kitty and jumping up and down. "Rogue," the professor continued, "I do hope that you did not accept this opportunity purely for financial reasons. Supplying you with an allowance has never been a problem."
"No, professor, but ah would like more financial freedom an' independence. Besides, ya can't be givin' all o' us kids money for the whole time we be here, can ya?"
"With my business, I very well could, so don't worry, Rogue, if this job doesn't work out."
Rogue turned to leave when one little question popped in her head that she'd later regret asking. "Professor.."
"Yes, Rogue," the Prof replied.
"Ah hope ya don't mind me askin' but where does all your money come from? Ah mean, if it was all inherited..."
"Oh no, Rogue," the professor chuckled. "My inheritance built the school but I do have a steady source of income to keep it going."
Rogue noticed how the professor sidestepped the question. "What is your steady source o' income?"
"Well, Rogue, as a matter of fact, I own a 1-900 number," the professor started then noticed the shocked look on Rogue's face. He chuckled. "No, Rogue, a psychic hotline."
A great relief fell over Rogue's face. "Yah mean people call ya an' ya use your psychic powers..."
"No, Rogue," the prof interrupted, "I don't use my powers to predict people's futures." Rogue's face showed confusion once again. The professor continued, "I use the stars and the movement of planets and the moon to make predictions. Here let me show you."
The professor wheeled himself behind his desk and hit a small button on the underside of the desk that Rogue had always assumed was some sort of security alarm. The lights in the room went dark and a pedestal rose from the floor in the center of the room. On it was some sort of rotating ball. The pedestal stopped moving upwards and the ball lit up. It projected an image of the night sky onto the ceiling.
"I grew up in the 60's and 70's and this was common back then..." Rogue's jaw dropped, and she stood in shock as the Professor rolled across the room, pulling down various zodiac and constellation charts that he had hidden behind the blinds, all the while explaining how the alignments of planets and your birthday affected your personality and your life path. Rogue couldn't stop thinking Ah wonder what the hell he was smokin' back then...hell, ah wonder what he's on now....
The Professor went on talking for about thirty minutes before Rogue brought herself back to reality...err...consciousness. "Professor X," she interrupted.
The Professor jumped slightly at the interruption. "Yes, Rogue."
"Ah don't mean ta cut ya off or anythin', Professor," Rogue lied, "but that homework we were talkin' 'bout earlier is sittin' in mah room an' ah don't wanna get behind even before ah start mah job."
"Oh, OH, of course Rogue, you're dismissed." Rogue turned to leave and had almost reached her freedom when the Professor spoke once again. "Rogue, I'd appreciate it if you did not mention this to the other instructors or students. I have a feeling that this might effect my credibility to unopen minds."
"Sure professor," Rogue responded and ran out of the room. Ah don't think ah'll ever be able ta look at him with a straight face ever again.
Don't worry the next chapter will have more substance to it...I hope or it's gonna take me a really long time to write this story if I get sidetracked like this all the time. Thanks for your reviews.