An X-men X-mas

Rewritten from scratch, no less

            "It takes a very steady hand!  Watch the sides!" cried Cyclops, much to Jean Grey's frustration, as she attempted to pull the Butterflies in the Stomach for $500. 

            "Bzzt!  You lose!  Ha ha!" Cyclops giggled furiously, slapping Jean's hand, knocking the tweezers from her hand.

            "You fuck!" Jean stared for a moment at Cyclops, and suddenly he fell backwards out the open window next to him.  She grinned in victory, and then took $500 from the 'bank pile' and added it to her pile.

            "Damn, you are a total bitch," said Wolverine, picking up the tweezers and reaching gingerly for the Water on the Knee.  "Hey, did you hear Springsteen's coming to town?"

            "The Boss?  Shit, I bet he still sucks," said Professor Charles Xavier, rolling his eyes as he puffed on his joint.  "Anyway, so what are we doing after this?  I mean, I used to know, but then I found this big-ass joint in my glove compartment," he finished, laughing quietly. 

            "You are a goddamn stoner, you know that?" said Beast, setting down his copy of Wall Street.  "Besides, we are accepting the new set of X-men trainees that Storm and Colossus have ready in the Subbasement.  I think there's three of them, but I can't fucking remember their names."

            "Who fucking cares what their names are?  I got this joint, and I am fucking stoned off my crippled ass, and I mean damn, I got it going on, bitches," Xavier finished, fingering his dollar sign necklace with his free hand.

            Wolverine set Water on the Knee aside, and took his $200 payment.  "I think one of them is Shaka Khan, but I don't know about the other two."

            "Shaka Khan!  No fucking way!" Xavier was astonished.

            "What, are you a fan of hers?" Wolverine replied.

            "Whoa, I didn't know it was a girl!"

            "Wow dude, you need to stop smoking pot." Wolverine waved his finger at Professor X cautiously.  "I heard that she came to the Academy because she has supported us throughout the eighties, even when we had lame haircuts and really crappy costumes, and she wants to see what she can do for us, since, you know, no one listens to her music anymore."

            "Heh, yeah," muttered Beast.

"What are you talking about, our eighties costumes were sweet!" said Cyclops, reentering the room.  His hair had rose bush tangles in it, and his red sunglasses were off-kilter on his bruised and dirtied face.  "I had so much glitter on mine that this homeless guy told me it made him hard."

"Jesus, don't bring up the homeless guy again, Scott," said Jean.  "It's not a good thing that he wanted to fuck you.  You looked like a gigolo."

"Yeah, well-" Scott started, but noticed the back of Beast's newspaper.  "Wait a second, what is that on the back of the paper?"

Beast turned the page around, and glanced at the back.  "It's a report on the 9/11 commission.  So what?"

"What…is…nine eleven?!" Cyclops cried.

"You know, September 11, when terrorists drove planes into the Pentagon and the Trade Center?"

Cyclops' eyes bulged.  He stared at his watch.  "It's December twelfth right now!  We have to stop them!"

"Stop who?  What are you talking about?" said Wolverine, throwing his hands up.

"The terrorists!  We have to go back in time and stop them!  I have a time machine in the X-Jet hangar!" Cyclops cried, running to the elevator.  The other X-men followed him.

"Did no one tell him that this happened three years ago?" said Beast.

"Aww, who cares, a shitty plot is better than no plot," replied Wolverine.

Soon, Beast, Wolverine, Jean Grey, and Professor X all stood (except for Professor X, he sat cause he is a cripple) in the hangar, waiting, as Cyclops fished his purported time machine out of a neglected wooden tool bin in the corner.  After a few minutes, he turned around, holding what looking like two can openers rubber-banded to an alarm clock upward in both hands, as if offering it to the gods.  His eyes shined and his smile was one of utter stupidity. 

"I told you guys!  This is the answer!  We can go back in time and save those buildings, and all those people!" Cyclops rattled as he giggled with glee.

"Does anyone really miss all those fucking people?" asked Wolverine.  Everyone turned to look at him.

"Seriously, you have to think about it.  Natural selection obviously is a little slow, so you have these guys that clear out about three thousand people and take care of it for us.  I mean, yeah, it was sad and all, but I didn't know anyone involved.  It's hard to care about someone you never knew."

Cyclops' mouth hung open.  "So what you're saying is…"

"That I have a better plot than that."

"And that would be?" asked Jean, gesturing.

"Santa's been kidnapped by terrorists who plan on driving his sleigh, with him in it, into the White House!"

"Aww shit, that is like the same plot we had three seconds ago, you fuckstick," said Beast, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, but it's Christmas!  Let's get those recruits and get to the X-Jet!"

*          *          *

            Storm stood with the three recruits, reading the newest issue of Ebony.  The  recruits giggled softly to each other.

            "So what is it that you do, like with your powers and stuff?" said the first, a young man dressed in a silver body suit with large silver sunglasses, like what old people wear when the sun is going to kill them.

            "Well, I was an eighties' rock star, but now I want to fight for the X-men.  Because I am a child of the eighties, I have the power of manipulating things from that time period.  Like jean jackets and Chevettes.  I can make them do whatever I want," replied the second trainee, a female who wore jeans, a black leather coat, and a headband.

            "Wow, that's pretty badass," said the silver-suited trainee.  "And you're who again?"

            "Chaka Khan."

            "Can I…?"

            "Just do it already, Dildor." (Dildor is the guy's name in the silver suit.)

            The boy in the silver suit paused for a second.  Then, he shouted "Khan!!!!!"

            Storm looked up from her magazine.  "What did you yell that for?"

            Dildor threw his hands up, shocked.  "Has no one seen Star Trek V: Wrath of Khan?"

            "What the hell is Star Trek?" asked Storm.

                                                STAR TREK INTERLUDE!!!!

            "What the hell is 'X-men'?" asked Picard, sitting in the captain's chair with his pants down.

            Wesley Crusher stopped what he was doing and looked up at Picard.  "Fuck if I know."

            "I didn't say you could stop."

            "Sorry, sir."

                                                *          *          *

            Meanwhile, in the Brotherhood of Mutants' evil lair, Mystique and Blob stood at a monitor connected to the video camera outside their totally evil lair. 

            "Damn, this sucks," said Blob.

            "What, not having Magneto around anymore?  Yeah, it was your fault he got busted by the Sentinels.  You were supposed to be guarding him, dipshit," replied Mystique.  "And not only that, but you lost the only key we had to Asteroid M's front door, so we can't even get in there.  So what do you do?  You found us a new lair, in the women's' bathroom at Denny's.  Jesus, you are stupid."

            Blob frowned at Mystique.  "Hey, you know what?"

            "What?"

            "You are an ass slut."

            "Fuck you."

            "Also, my uncle is an assistant manager here, so he said we could have this bathroom on weeknights, as long as we don't make a mess or kill any customers.  I think this is a perfect lair.  I mean, who the fuck goes to Denny's?  Not me.  'Moon Over My Hammys' is some nasty shit." Blob pulled out a piece of crumpled paper and glanced at it.  "Plus, we got all these new mutants coming to join our gang, so we'll be even stronger than before.  I mean, look at this.  We got The Kid that looks like Todd!  He is a master of disguise, because he kind of looks like this one kid, but he isn't!" Blob threw his hands up in gesture.

            Mystique looked at him and shook her head.  "Big fucking deal, you stupid asshole.  Who the fuck else did you get, Mr. Arbagi?"

            Blob looked down.  "Well, yes, we did.  But we also have Evil Jesus Man, Undead Dean Martin Man, and the best of all, our new leader.  Now that Magneto's being held by the Sentinels and we're just too goddamned lazy to get him out, his nephew, whose identity is a scaaary secret," Blob made wavy ghost hands, "has come to take his place."

            "And who might this be, you fat gas-huffing child-molesting ugly fuckchode?"

            Blob was about to speak but turned his head.  "Damn, you are a fucking bitch.  I hope you get cancer really soon." Mystique shrugged and gave him the finger.  "His name is Fagneato.  He has the, well, less interesting power to attract anything gay, like gay people, Volkswagons, and movies starring Crispin Glover."

            "That's it?" Mystique sighed.  "Fine, when do they get here?"

            "In the next few minutes," Blob answered, reaching for the door to the bathroom when an old lady entered before he could get ahold of the handle.

            "Oh, hello, young friends," said a few small, very short black lady who looked to be about ninety.  "I'm just here to drop some friends off at the pool.  I hope you can stand the smell." She rattled as she giggled at the last remark.

            "We were just leaving, actually," said Blob quickly, again reaching for the door.

            "Well, I hope you're going to the Y or something, because you look a bit too chubby, little man," she said playfully.  Mystique stifled a laugh.

            "And I hope you are going to get some respectable clothes, miss.  Nobody wants a whore walking around town, much less a blue whore," she finished, stepping into the first stall.  Blob chuckled.

            "Let's just fucking go," said Mystique, kicking the door open.

            *                                  *                                  *

Storm rested in her Lazy Boy, watching the tv blankly.  "Man, this show blows my anus," she said as Trading Spaces went to a commercial break.  A McDonalds commercial came up.

            Did you like our Chicken Selects?  Enjoy our Barbecue Sauce?  Well, you're in for a treat with our new BVD Selects!  We take thick, tender slices of soiled underpants and deep fry them in a decadent light batter, and serve them piping hot with a side order of shit sauce!  That's right, actual shit in a little serving cup!  Try our shit sauce in three flavors: Tangy Taco Shits, Delicious Diarrhea, and Peanutty-Shit Spectacular!  And just so you know for a fact that it's going to taste good, here's Vanessa Carlton to promote it:

            "I can honestly say, without hesitation, that McDonalds' BVD Selects are totally full of shit, just like my albums."

            That was Vanessa Carlton, promoting our tasty underpants food!  So wipe that shit-eating grin off of your face!  Better use a toothpick, those peanuts don't come out that easy!

            Inside Storm's head, her emotions raged.  How could someone sell trash like that and call it food?  People shouldn't have to settle for that!  People should stand up for their rights! 

Outside Storm's head, her mouth became slightly agape, and drool began to seep out as the thought of a tasty BVD Select filled her mind. 

            Suddenly, Cyclops rushed in.  "Storm, get the recruits!  We're going to the Stone Age!"

            "What?  Oh god, not that time machine bullshit again," she mumbled, gesturing to the recruits. 

            As they ran to the hangar, Storm asked what was going on. 

            "What's going on?" Storm asked (see, I told you.)

            "Can't…explain…must…get…to…hang…a…r…" huffed Cyclops, whose idea of exercise was obviously eating Fig Newtons in a baby pool.

            As they arrived in the hangar, Wolverine put his hand up.  "Hold on a second, Cyclops," he said.  "Now, while you were gone, we had a vote, and we decided that you, and only you, are going back in time.  We are staying because Christmas shopping is really more important than saving the stupid World Trade Center.  But, if you want, you can take one of the three recruits with you.  Who knows, maybe it'll be funnier that way."

            "Wait!  We never introduced the third recruit!" shouted Professor X.

            "Um, okay," said Beast, rolling his eyes.  "His name is Awkwardo, and his amazing ability-" he flailed his arms for effect, "-is to make situations far more awkward than they need to be.  Sometimes twice, sometimes ten, sometimes thousands of times more awkward!"

            "We got the point, you blue fuck," said Jean Grey.

            "Awkwardo; what are you, fucking black?  That sounds like Shaniqua or Lashanta, or some shit," said Wolverine."

            "And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" said Storm. 

            "Sorry, blackie," said Wolverine.  "And what does Dildor do again?"

            "I, uh, I make dildoes out of thin air.  Any size, any shape, any texture."

            "Wow, that sucks," said Xavier.

            "Yeah, tell me about it."

            "Well, I guess I'll take Dildor, since he's only slightly more interesting than the other two guys," said Cyclops, shrugging.

            Suddenly, the door to the hangar opened. 

            "May I come too?" 

            Everyone turned to look, but all that lay in the doorway was a large log that looked to be made of chocolate.

            "What the fuck is that?" said Wolverine.

            "Looks like some kind of chocolate log," replied Storm.

            "I am the Chocolate Sex Log, to be exact," replied the inanimate log on the cement floor.  "And I must go with the loser Cyclops to the past to stop Al-Queida from destroying the Towers.  You see, they killed my brothers, the Vanilla Abstinence Wedges, and the Butterscotch Dry Hump Patties.  For this they must be denied their greatest crime to humanity, and I will do this by removing them from existence!" The log jumped slightly in the air.

            "How do you plan to do that?" said Beast.

            "Wait, wait, wait," said Xavier, waving his hands in the air.  "First of all, how the fuck do you talk with no mouth, see with no eyes, and move with no body parts?"

            "I move by way of the machine called Segway.  I left it out front.  The other two questions, please disregard them."

            "What the fuck," said Professor X, puffing his joint.

            "Well, time's a-wasting; let's do this!" yelled Cyclops.  He held his time machine in the air, and began to mumble, quiet at first, but then louder and louder until it was clearly audible.

            Beast whispered to Jean Grey.  "Is that…?"

            "Yeah, it's the 'Facts of Life' theme song.  It's his favorite show."

            "Wow, that's just sad."

            "Tell me about it.  When we fuck, he calls me Rooty!" Jean threw her hands up in the air to emphasize whatever point she may have been trying to make.

            Cyclops began to spin in circles, now screaming his beloved theme song.

            Slowly, one by one, every X-man had left the hangar, until only CSL and Dildor remained.  About twenty minutes later, Cyclops fell to the floor, completely passed out. 

            Dildor and CSL approached his prone form.

            "What do we do?" said Dildor, producing a ten-foot dildo and prodding Cyclops's temple with it.

            "Well, first, we use a real time machine," said CSL, who suddenly had a headset on.  He spoke quickly, and moments later, the Segway rolled in to a halt.  With a short, bizarre hop, CSL was aboard.  "Okay, place these poles around you and Cyclops to form a circle.  When you're ready, we're going to the…what time period did he say he wanted to go to?"

            "Stone Age," said Dildor, shrugging.

            "Well, whatever.  Let's do this."

                                    *                                  *                                  *

            Mystique and Blob stood by Blob's ratty Honda Civic in the Denny's parking lot, waiting for the recruits and new leader to arrive. 

            "Goddamn, when are these motherfuckers going to get here?  My legs hurt," whined Mystique.

            "Maybe if you didn't let your yeast infection turn into full blown 'nasty dirty pussy' that sort of thing wouldn't happen." Blob smiled.

            Mystique gave Blob the finger, and turned to see a bright green four door Accord roll into the parking lot.  Fagneato was the first to get out, his pink and green cape flapping in the evening breeze.  "Hey bitches," he said in a high-pitched voice.  "I'm here to get this party going with a little help from…" he reached into the car and turned his stereo up, "…KC and the Sunshine Band!" The Accord's subs rattled the trunk, and the back window shattered, showing two recruits looking very timid.  An old man stepped out from the passenger seat, dressed in a grey suit, holding an 8-ball. 

            "I am Mr. Arbagi," he said plainly, tossing the 8-ball to himself.

            The two other recruits stepped out, and the Accord dropped on its hydraulics. 

            The first recruit looked like Dean Martin.  "I am Undead Dean Martin Man!" he declared, while the other one, dressed like Jesus with grossly oversized vampire fangs and a black Quiet Riot t-shirt over his white gown, stepped out.

            Fagneato pulled a microphone from his car, and spoke.  "Here, we have Evil Jesus man, sporting a lovely white gown with a black t-shirt over it.  Very modern!"

            "What is this, a fashion show?" whispered Mystique to Blob.

            "Looks more like the Lilith Fair," replied Blob.

            The music ended and the three villians shook hands with Blob and Mystique.

            "Where's The Kid Who Looks like Todd?" asked Mystique.

            "Dead," replied Undead Dean Martin.

            "Oh."

            "So, what's the master plan?" asked Fagneato.  "Cause, whatever it is, my ass is running it now."

            "Well, really, all we're trying to do is buy enough Christmas presents for everyone.  Everyone in our group.  You know, Secret Santa, all that.  But it's hard, because we don't have any money, any lair, or any good ideas," said Mystique.

            "Why not steal Santa's sleigh and keep all of the presents to ourselves?" said Evil Jesus Man, snickering and rubbing his hands together.  Mystique, instead of answering, looked at his hands.

            "Where are the nails?" she asked plainly.

            "Excuse me?" EJM replied, pausing mid-rub.

            "You know, Jesus got crucified, did Evil Jesus not get crucified?" Mystique rolled her eyes.

Evil Jesus Man looked down at his hands for a few seconds, obviously searching for a clever answer.  "Well," he said at last, "Evil Jesus was wearing gloves at the time, expensive gloves; and his persecutors did not want to pierce the fancy leather, so, um, they just threw him in a well and did the 'Silence of the Lambs' thing for a while and then dropped him off at a Stuckey's in Idaho."Mystique stared, and then quietly closed her mouth in a smug expression. 

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but all she could manage was "You fucking shithead."