I went to see Xmen origins: Wolverine today and have to say I quite enjoyed it, despite the mixed reviews, even caught the short scene after the credits. More naked Hugh Jackman please!

Thanks for the review, Roguex1

A Hard Day's Night

Ten O'clock finds me sitting on the roof wrapped tightly in a cashmere blanket. I'm suffering from physical exhaustion and my poor weary bones. I swear my body feels just shy of ninety nine.

Logan is a total sadist and don't forget you heard it here first. I mean, come on, he made me fight him in the Danger Room for three hours straight. I also have the sneaking suspicion that I would have been in there for another three hours if it hadn't have been Friday night. He's gone bar hopping tonight because if he doesn't pop in to his favourite bar, the staff might report him missing, presumed dead to the local cops.

"Hey, Rogue, you up here?"

"Yep, over here Johnny."

As he sits himself beside me, I can't help but feel a wave of nostalgia wash over my aching body. The three of us used to stay up here late at night, watching the stars and devising a new prank that would undoubtedly get us into trouble.

Smiling he turns his head towards me, "So, you made it in one piece, then?"

"Just about, wise guy. What's in the bag?" I gaze down at the plastic bag he's currently clutching in his lap as though his life depended on it.

"Thought we could use a few light refreshments." And he produces a rather large quantity of beer, Canadian beer to be exact. "Five each."

I can't help but smirk as he places them gently down in front of us.

"They're already shaken up, don't want to make them worse. Might take our eyes out, you know." He explains with a snort.

"Well they do say great minds think alike." I reply playfully as I reach under my blanket and hand him a large bottle of Russian Vodka.

"Where the hell did you find that?" He arches an eyebrow and looks aghast.

"Let's just say they're from the same source as those." I reply pointing at the beer.

"Oh man, I didn't know they belonged to... I mean, I found them hidden in the fridge behind the vegetables and thought I'd just help myself. You snuck into his room to get that didn't you?" Oh bless him, he actually looks quite worried.

"Don't worry, Logan's gone for the night."

Crap, John's having second thoughts. I can't let this happen, especially on my watch. I don't want to drink alone, it's no fun that way. I know what I want, and I'm going to get it, just you wait and see. It's not like I have many choices anyway, it's either Pyro or Jubilee. She would rather donate her clothing allowance to the American society of neglected clowns then drink with me. Jubes says I'm an irresponsible drunk, can you believe that? Irresponsible drunk my ass.

"He'll never find out Johnny, there's too many scents to keep track of in this place." And if you believe that you'll believe anything.

"Uh, okay. Let's drink."

"Okay, then." And I grin almost sincerely. Don't worry, he won't get into trouble. I have it all under control. No really, trust me on this.

I hand him a bottle of beer and crack my own open. Thank God he remembered to bring the bottle opener, I'd rather not use my teeth. I'm nowhere near drunk enough... Hell, I haven't even started yet. "Suck on that, friend of mine."

Five bottles a piece and the cheap, nasty, vile, foul, revolting, unpleasant and nauseating bottle of vodka has... Well, it's gone, all of it. Where am I going with this you ask? Fuck knows. Please excuse me, I need to get back to my drinking. Oh no, we don't have any left.

"To drinking alcom... Al-co-hol-ic beverages!" I exclaim, holding the empty vodka bottle high in the air "A rather amazingly, fantastical way to spend ones time, eh saint John?" Hmm, patron saint of what though? I wonder if his parents were religious at all.

He scrambles to his knees empty beer in hand and cries " Whatever you say, Marie. Now I've got a speech of my own to make. To, to Wolverine, a guy, yes a guy of many talents, mostly buying good booze!"

We both cheer the absent Logan and fall into a tangled giggling heap on the ground.

"No more uh booze left Saint Johnny...W...What we going to do?" I can't even think for myself when I'm this drunk. Come to think of it, why am I so drunk? I'm no lightweight.

"I suggest a field trip." He jumps to his feet pulling me up with him in the process. How can he be so, so graceful. I'm absolutely shitfaced and here he is prancing, yes prancing around like a, uh, oh I don't know, who cares. I just want me some more drink.

"Where we going?" I ask, well I think that was me. I guess drinking on an empty stomach wasn't such a good idea.

"Got a piece of laminated card that says I'm a Mark Felderman and twenty one years of age."

Ahhhh, so he wants to get us some more drink, huh? Well I'm up for that. Got to get myself one of those, I really do need a fake I.D. "Best idea ever you've had, John. Liquor store here we come!" And off we go.

"Johnny, my feet hurt." They really do you know, I can't even walk straight. I'm zig- zagging all over the side walk and road. No, that has nothing to do with all the alcohol I've consumed. My feet just ache, yes that's it, they ache real bad.

"Awww, come here, Roguey, I'll give you a piggy back, hop on." John really is considerate, so I hop on his back. He's such an amazing friend.

"You know, you're my best friend, Johnny. My best friend in the whole wiiiiiiiiiiide world." I throw my arm in the air and gesture wildly. He can't see me but it's the thought that counts. Isn't it stupendous to share your feelings like this? I really should do this more often. Stupendous? Now there's a word I've never used before.

"Rogue, hold on!" And he laughs. I like it when he laughs "We're nearly there."

So, this is the liquor store, 'Joe's smoke shop' to be exact .

"Okay, I'll go buy a few bottles, and you... Well, you just don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Ah, don't worry," I wave Pyro off and giggle to myself. "I'll just, you know, browse and stuff."

Look at all these pretty bottles. Vodka, Gin, Whiskey, Rum, Tequila, Scotch, Beer, even more beer. Oh look at those cute little miniature bottles of Southern Comfort. Aw, they'd fit right into my pocket.

A quick gaze at the store owner and he's still busy serving John. Nah, he won't notice a pale person like me and my pocket sized bottles of southern stuff. I'll just help myself and my hands put a few dozen cute things in my pockets.

I really do miss the south and yeah, that's a perfect excuse for a few shots of ol' Southern Comfort. I'm homesick, ha, would that excuse stand up in court? Pyro's left and I take it he's waiting outside. Crap I still can't walk straight, my legs really aren't paying any attention to my brain tonight.

"Wait right there, Missy."

Oh shit.

"Who, me?"

Well there's no one else in the store, except that cardboard cut out over there. God damn, the owner really is an ugly bastard up close.

"Empty your pockets."

"What, right here, right now? Uh, no, my pockets have rights, too." I probably really shouldn't be laughing at this point in time but I can't help it. This is all just so damn funny.

"The police are on their way, thief." And the son of a bitch is in my way, blocking my escape... I mean exit. Fine then, Storm always said I needed to respect my elders. Well I'll show her. I might just take a seat behind the counter and take a little nap.

I sit down and flash the ugly guy a sickly sweet smile. I can't understand why he's shooting me the dirtiest of looks, I'm being polite, aren't I?

I'm such a magnet for trouble nowadays and a good girl like me, it really isn't fair.