The Xavier Mansion Diaries: The Maid
- Disclaimer / Author's Note: Let's pretend everyone in the mansion (heck,
everyone in the whole X-Men movieverse) had a diary. And let's pretend that
they were all written like Bridget Jones's diary. And *then* let's pretend
that I didn't get the idea from Cassandra, who writes the Lord of the Rings
diaries. (Google 'em. Find 'em. Come back when you're done laughin'.)
And while we're at it, let's pretend that these characters are not owned by
Marvel or 20th Century Fox or whoever it is that has 'em this week, and
let's pretend they're owned by ME. In that case, I'll be auctioning off
everyone except Wolverine and Iceman, whom I'll be putting into cold storage
until he's legal. Don't worry, I'll give him a couple of magazines and a
Playstation. He'll be fine.
Son of Author's Note: The timeline is ... eh. Close enough. Spoilers for
the first and second movie, so you're forewarned.
The Xavier Mansion Diaries: The Maid
by Troll Princess
Alcohol units: 1. Cigarettes: 13. Considering the reasons for all, may
not be trying hard enough.
Am being driven insane by hyperactive Chinese girl and blond boy-band
reject. Professor and redheaded trollop off to Washington, so have left
bloke with funny sunglasses in charge. Obviously, man should not be left in
charge of an ant farm, as children have gone absolutely mad. Cleaned
bathroom after boy-band reject had left only to find shower stall covered in
ice. Am not sure how he did it, but am positive it involves some sort of
teenage sexual thing I'd rather not know about.
Chinese girl, on the other hand, has filled the linen closet with tapioca
pudding. Again, no idea how this was done, but maybe I should warn her that
the vacuum cleaner has a reverse mechanism and I know where her underwear
Bloke with sunglasses and white-haired tart off to S&M convention, if
outfits any indication. Professor and redhead back from Washington.
Children back to pretending they're sane.
Professor asking why his bed smells like pudding. Decided to pretend I
don't speak English.
Leather-clad pair returned from Canada with skittish bint and unconscious
and unshaven but still yummy dish. Adorable bloke taken down to med-lab.
Can pretty much assure you, diary, that med-lab now cleanest room in the
mansion. Go, me!
Help! Boys have decided that skittish bint most attractive creature on
God's green earth and have resolved to sweep her off her feet. Boy-band
reject leaving melting ice sculptures all over my clean floors. Russian
brickhouse leaving holes in mansion ceilings after juggling toasters to
impress her. Rebellious kid with lighter burning stupid romantic sentiments
onto priceless family heirlooms.
May abduct skittish bint and ship her off to Guam to save myself hours of
work. Have not decided yet, as am getting the impression the female
students may do this for me.
In other news, sexy chap in med-lab now shirtless. Day cannot get any worse
with *that* lying around the mansion.
Cigarettes: 20. Every single one needed after nummy med-lab hottie awoke
and ran through mansion shirtless. May not be able to move legs anytime
soon. Left a trail of possibly biohazardous waste in lower level, but as
was worn by sexy psycho, won't complain when I have to clean them up.
*Probably*. Probably won't complain.
Yummy Canadian lying unconscious and shirtless, this time in his bedroom.
Have changed mind -- *definitely* won't be complaining, as lose all control
of my tongue whenever I catch sight of the man.
Competition for the bint's affections now going full-throttle. So far, have
found all of the toilets in the men's bathroom frozen solid, fourteen
Playboys somehow stuck in the wall of the boys's room, and the foosball
table in the TV room flipped upside down as if it had always been that way.
Was tempted to have someone right the bloody thing, but heard a strange
growling noise from underneath it and have since resorted to lifting up a
corner, tossing in a fresh steak, and slamming the thing to the ground while
I still have all of my toes.
Also, must learn to perfect proper poker face, as have filled the closets in
the boys's rooms with barbecue sauce and mayonnaise and may not be able to
keep from giggling hysterically for much longer.
V.v. good news, as skittish bint has run away and taken all of her
never-ending laundry with her. Hooray!
However, also v.v. bad news, as second-floor now ankle deep in noxious
BBQ-sauce-and-mayo mess. Considering all the strange goings-on in this
place, have told the Professor that condiments made wrong turn at
Albuquerque through interdimensional portal. Amazingly, he seemed to buy
it. Right stupid bloke, isn't he?
As was emptying garbage cans in lower levels, overheard sexy bloke and
uptight moron with the sunglasses arguing heatedly in the hallway over
runaway girl. Considering their volume, am allowed three options -- either
both fighting over skittish bint, both fighting over redheaded trollop, or
both secretly want to ditch trollop and bint and shack up for lover's trysts
Please let option C be wrong, please let option C be wrong ...
Ugh. Med-lab a disaster area. According to white-haired tart, melted
senator all over everything. Bloke's watery remains currently clogging up
the wet vac. Suddenly thankful I don't vote.
Also, wish I didn't have to do so much laundry. White-haired tart and
reheaded trollop taken to changing clothes as if they're in a bloody fashion
Professor unconscious in the med-lab. Teachers gone. Sexy Canadian gone.
Students smiling at me. Chinese girl and boy-band reject just walked by
carrying two bottles of ketchup, a giant tube of superglue, and a
twenty-five pound bag of cat litter.
Becoming mildly alarmed now an incredible understatement.
FIVE MINUTES LATER
Good Lord, I can't get up from my chair.
FIVE MINUTES LATER
Have no idea where that strange smell is coming from, but considering the
crazed gleam in the eyes of the students, cannot possibly come to any good.
White-haired tart constantly following me around and apologizing for leaving
me alone with the students last night. Others came home yesterday to find
me glued to my chair, which was glued to the ceiling, with my hair dyed blue
and my entire body doused in ketchup. Was going to complain, but large
bonus check roughly the size of the gross national product of France more
than enough compensation.
However, have decided to play up my sorrow, as is great fun to watch the
tart yammer on about how I'll grow that skin back before I know it and how
she's sure that the blue hair dye will come out with enough shampoo
Skittish bint apparently ran off to get bad streak job on her bangs and
personality transplant. Has been killing time by flicking cigar ashes at my
head and calling me "bub". Also, keeps grabbing the redhead's ass. Ha!
Feel immensely vindicated, as knew someone in this place had to be gay.
Sexy unshaven dish once again shirtless and on his back in the med-lab.
Spends so much of his time in that condition, it's a real pity more of it
isn't spent conscious.
Yummy Canadian off on grand adventure to find past. Let redheaded trollop
and skittish bint behind, but stole boring bloke's motorcycle. Have decided
to ignore homoerotic subtext to their relationship until something less sub
and more text pops up.
Hmm. Have reread last sentence and suppose that "pops up" is a bad phrase
to use during this particular discussion. Let's see ... reveals itself,
emerges, comes up ...
Perhaps buying a thesaurus is in order. Well, that, or less porn.
White-haired tart apparently lost accent in mansion. Reward poster hanging
up by cafeteria.
Tart has now replaced spotty African accent with whiny Minnewegean one. May
destroy her copy of "Fargo" before things go too far.
Hooray! Tasty Canadian back from sightseeing trip. Tasty Canadian's arse
also back. Not sure which I missed more.
Teachers obviously learned lesson after the superglue debacle. Have left
sexy psycho in charge for night, but personally expect he wil buy the
students beer, rent them porn, and teach them all how to kill a man with a
cocktail weenie. Am staying in, as death by cocktail weenie not something I
really want to experience.
New plan: Hide in room until responsible adult or trained emergency
personnel arrive to break things up. Good plan!
Am resigning, effective immediately. Am not sure how they can possibly
expect me to do my job when mansion is swarming with soldiers and students
insist on killing them violently or throwing them through walls.
On the other hand, children missing, teachers gone, and second-in-command of
soldiers apparently poured into his uniform. Tried to find downside to
situation, but as worst things so far are muddy boot tracks through the
hallways and blood all over the foyer, cannot even begin to complain.
Second-in-command wants me to stay with him *where?!*
Am reconsidering my resignation, as while mansion has its disadvantages,
also has heating system, American money, and windows. Suspect that living
in dam vast difference.
Hmm. Wonder if I should get the Professor before I go.
Nope, seems happy enough. Talking to imaginary little girl, wearing a funny
helmet. Must be an improvement over mansion, really. Can't possibly be
opposed to me raiding his pockets, though. No, of course not.
Now, where was that helicopter ...
Flavor of the Moment (http://flavor_of_the_moment.blogspot.com) --
Because sometimes, leaving your brain at home is a good thing.
All I have to say is ... Hugh Jackman? I want one. Can I have one?
-- DuAnn Cowart, spotted on the Scratching Post
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