The day started off normally at the X-Mansion, as normal as a day could be in a school full of mutants with extraordinary abilities. Students hurried to their classes, Cyclops lectured a group of new recruits about teamwork, and Wolverine grumbled over his morning coffee, the mug emblazoned with the words"Best Dad"in garish neon lettering.

Then, everything went sideways.

It began in the playground just outside the mansion. A group of younger mutants were playing an energetic game of tag, their powers—ranging from harmless glowing hands to the occasional accidental fireball—making the game far more chaotic than usual. Among them was Tommy, a new mutant with the power of flight, who had recently been the talk of the school for his daring aerial stunts.

"Tommy's gotcooties!" screamed Claire, a telepath, pointing an accusatory finger at him. Her face was scrunched up in horror, as though she'd seen something far worse than Magneto's latest scheme.

Tommy froze mid-air. "I don't have cooties!" he yelled back, his voice cracking.

"Yes, you do!" chimed in Brian, whose ability to shapeshift into various animals had, for the moment, rendered him a very smug-looking parrot. "You touched one of thegirls! That's how it spreads!"

The playground descended into pandemonium. Mutants bolted in all directions, some climbing trees, others shielding themselves with whatever objects they could find. Tommy landed, confused and panicked, as Claire backed away dramatically.

Professor Charles Xavier watched the chaos unfold from his office window and sighed. "Logan, get the staff together. We have a... situation."

Minutes later, the X-Men's senior members convened in the faculty lounge. Cyclops, Storm, Wolverine, Jean Grey, and Beast were seated around the table. Xavier wheeled in, his usual calm demeanor giving way to a faint twitch of irritation.

"What's this about?" asked Wolverine, scratching his head. "I was teaching the kids how to carve a proper steak."

"There's been an outbreak," Xavier said gravely.

Jean frowned. "Outbreak of what?"

"Cooties," Xavier replied.

The room fell silent.

Cyclops adjusted his visor, looking incredulous. "You're joking, right?"

"I assure you, Scott, I am not," Xavier said. "The younger students are in full-blown hysteria, and I just witnessed Tommy being ostracized because of it. This could undermine the entire school's harmony."

Beast stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Cooties, you say? I recall something about this peculiar phenomenon from my childhood. A supposed biohazard transmitted via contact, particularly through the lips."

Wolverine snorted. "Ain't that just kids being kids?"

"Perhaps," Xavier said. "But it's our duty as educators to address their concerns, however... unconventional they may be."

The students were herded into the auditorium, where Xavier sat on the stage with the faculty behind him. The room buzzed with murmurs, and Tommy sat in the front row, visibly sulking.

Xavier tapped the microphone. "Students, may I have your attention, please?"

The chatter died down.

"It has come to my attention," Xavier began, "that there is some concern regarding... cooties."

A wave of giggles swept through the crowd, followed by shushing and whispers.

"To clarify," Xavier continued, undeterred, "cooties are not a real biological threat. They are a myth, perpetuated by youthful imagination and playground lore."

A hand shot up in the back. It was Sarah, a mutant with invisibility powers who was currently half-transparent in her excitement. "But Tommydoeshave cooties! He touched Claire, and now she's acting all weird!"

Claire stood up indignantly. "I'm not acting weird! You're acting weird!"

Wolverine rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "This is why I don't do assemblies."

Jean leaned over and whispered, "You're not helping."

Beast stepped forward, holding a chalkboard and a pointer. "Allow me to explain. What you refer to as 'cooties' is a psychosocial phenomenon, not a biological one. It is driven by the age-old dynamic of gendered social interaction in children. In simpler terms: it's all in your heads."

He began drawing a diagram of the human body with exaggerated larynxes, sprouting hairs, and gangly limbs. "If left unchecked, cooties hysteria may result in a natural progression into adolescence—marked by increased height, hair growth, and an alarming fascination with those once considered carriers."

The room erupted in groans of disgust.

"That's gross!" shouted one student.

Beast adjusted his glasses. "Indeed, it is a natural but entirely non-anomalous process."

Despite the assembly, rumors persisted. Some students, led by Brian (still frequently a parrot), formed a self-proclaimedCooties Patrol. Armed with makeshift detectors cobbled together from calculators and bits of scrap metal, they patrolled the halls, scanning fellow students and yelling, "Cooties alert!" at random intervals.

The faculty quickly intervened, confiscating the devices. Wolverine cornered Brian after his third attempt to "test" the cafeteria staff.

"Kid," Logan said, towering over the shapeshifter, "you want to play hero, fine. But cooties ain't a supervillain, and you're wasting everyone's time."

Brian transformed into a squirrel and darted away, leaving Wolverine muttering under his breath.

Meanwhile, Jean held a private session with Claire, who was still insisting she felt "funny" after the alleged cooties transmission.

"Claire," Jean said gently, "do you really feel unwell, or are you just reacting to what everyone's saying?"

Claire hesitated. "I don't know. Tommy smiled at me, and it was... weird. Like, my stomach got all fluttery."

Jean smiled knowingly. "That's not cooties, Claire. That's just a normal reaction to someone you like."

Claire's eyes widened. "Like... like?"

Jean nodded. "Exactly."

Claire groaned and flopped onto the couch. "That's even worse."

By the end of the week, the faculty had successfully quashed the hysteria. Beast published a pamphlet titledThe Truth About Cooties: A Scientific Perspective, which was distributed to all students. Wolverine grudgingly volunteered to oversee "cooties-free" games in the playground, ensuring the younger mutants weren't avoiding each other entirely.

Tommy and Claire eventually reconciled, though Claire's friends teased her mercilessly for weeks. The Cooties Patrol disbanded after Brian (still a parrot) got stuck in the air ducts and had to be rescued by Storm.

That evening, the senior staff gathered in the lounge, exhausted but triumphant.

"Well, that was a week I'll never forget," Cyclops said, sipping his tea.

"I still don't understand how this even started," Storm said. "Do children naturally create chaos, or is it amplified here?"

"Doesn't matter," Wolverine grunted. "It's over now."

Beast glanced up from his book. "Perhaps we should count ourselves lucky. Imagine if cooties were real."

Xavier chuckled. "Indeed. Though, if they were, I have no doubt we'd rise to the occasion."

Somewhere in the mansion, Brian's voice echoed faintly from the air ducts: "I'm stuck again!"