HALLOWEEN 2008 WRITING CHALLENGE: "All's Fair"
Posted: Mon Oct 13, 2008 5:47 pm
"All's Fair" or: "The Re-appearing Act"
~~ ACT ONE ~~
Kurt and Logan relaxed in easy chairs in the drawing room of the Xavier mansion. They were taking a break after having built a platform for the talent show portion of the Institute's upcoming Halloween celebration.
"Whatcha dressin up as, fer the party? An Elf, maybe?"
Kurt snorted his derision. "Nein, mein Freund. I was thinking more along the lines of a circus performer."
"Now that shows some originality. Pass me a brewski." Kurt tossed a can to the hirsute man; Logan placed it on the end table to settle for a moment before popping the top. "I heard Jean and Scott were goin' as Li'l Abner and Daisy Mae."
In unison the two said, "Not likely," then shared a chuckle.
"Perhaps we should go as something on a theme."
"Like what? I don't like that shifty look in yer yellow eyes."
"Oh, Frankenstein and his creation."
"Which one of us is the monster?"
"Well, myself being a natural-born German, I assumed I would be the good Doktor."
"Your birth wasn't nothin' natural. How 'bout we go as Starsky and Hutch?"
"Ach, you've been watching those late-night TV-Land reruns again. Perhaps I could be Jack Sparrow, and you … erm, Davey Jones?"
"Too much makeup. Gotta keep it simple. Easy to take off if we have some good-lookin' guests who might want, y'know, a tour of the place." He took a swig. "If you get my meanin'."
"How about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. You have the ninja training."
Logan's expression said it all.
"Butch and Sundance?"
Wolverine waved the suggestion away. "Ain't really us, is it?"
"I've thought of a perfect solution. I go as a juggler, and you as a lumberjack. Get one of those rubber axes to tuck in your belt, and you have a costume."
"Brilliant, Elf," Logan said, then gave a dramatic sigh. "Don't know why I bothered askin' ya. 'Sides," he reached for some cocktail wieners, "you were one o' them flyin' fellas, weren'tcha?"
"Ja. An aerialist. But in the circus, everyone learns to juggle sooner or later."
Logan looked askance, finding the Little Smokies had been scarfed by the fuzzy blue guy, and settled for a bowl of popcorn, coating the mound with garlic-butter spray as 'Crawler continued his explanation.
"One cannot help but pick up various skills, especially if one is curious as well as confined to the circus by fear of being harmed for being a mutant."
"I'll toss you some of these empties and see how good ya are."
Kurt bounded to the stage, ending in a handstand, and winked at Logan. "Ready."
Logan lofted a trio of cans one at a time toward Nightcrawler, who caught them one-two-three and kept them spinning in the air, using his feet.
"Too easy," the juggler said, removing one hand from the floor.
In response, the runt grunted and tossed a TV Guide at him, which the blue man assimilated into the mix without missing a beat. Logan grunted again. "Showoff."
Kurt answered with his wide white smile and tossed the magazine to his free hand and back while keeping the crumpled cans cascading in a complicated circuit.
Wolverine hefted his ashtray, thought for a moment, and lobbed it at Nightcrawler, spattering him with a fall of ashes like grey snowflakes.
After a few moments, Kurt threw all the objects in sequence at Logan, ported behind the chair, and caught them before they could hit his friend.
"Think yer so special, do ya?"
"Merely a few tricks I learned along the way."
"I can do stuff, too."
"No doubt."
The burly fellow collected some of the cans from the pile around his boots. "Go over there and catch these."
Nightcrawler did as instructed until his arms were overloaded and a few cans clattered to the floor.
"Put 'em down on that table so you'll be ready." He lofted several more empties, duly caught and deposited on a small dinette table which would later hold some of the evening's snacks.
"Now, throw 'em to me and call the claw." Wolverine pulled his mask all the way down so it covered his face, thought better of it, shoved it back like a hoodie, and shut his eyes.
"First right," Kurt yelled, aiming the aluminum projectile high.
SNIKT!Logan felt the tiny rush of air and swiveled to catch it in the claw between the middle and forefinger of his left hand, then opened his eyes. "Let's get this straight. My right or your right?"
"Um … you call it?" He gave his best ingratiating grin, canines sparkling.
"Okay, you say 'right' and I'll go for the left. This," he waved the open claw, can still embedded, "will be my first, and this," the one by the pinky slid out, "is last. Got it?"
"Ja, ja." He swirled several cans in the air, barely seeming to watch them as they danced in figure eights. "Let the games begin."
The beer cans came fast and furious, but Logan caught them all, each on the claw announced by his friend, scraping them off against the chair arm to make room for the next. "I could do this all day and not break a sweat," he boasted.
Suddenly he was wet. Dripping wet. Foamy wet.
Beer-soaked wet.
And the Elf was hugging his own sides in laughter. "Trick or treat – you've been tricked!"
Wolverine merely frowned. A perfectly good beer, wasted. "No use having Charley all over our skin about leaving a mess. Get me a trash bag, and while you're at it, a coupla towels."
"With pleasure, my friend." Snickering, Kurt wandered off in the direction of the kitchen. When he returned, Wolverine had piled the offending objects in a loose hillock.
"Alright, Elf, you hold the bag and I'll shovel 'em in."
As the last of the aluminum cans skittered into the bag, Wolverine lunged at Nightcrawler, bowling him over and pinning him to the ground. In one hand he held the garlic butter bottle, with which he began to spritz the supine form. "I'll see your 'trick or treat,' and raise you a 'turnabout is fair play.'" In half a heartbeat, he was talking to himself. Actually, talking to a violet cloud of rotten-egg fumes. He wasn't sure which was worse: being doused in beer, smelling the bamf exhaust, or the knowledge that the greasy essence of garlic spray would linger on him, at least until he had time to shower it off.
Before Logan could finish these olfactory musings, Kurt reappeared, perched on the shorter man's back. "Are we even now? Let's finish this childish game and begin planning our party antics. We have to come up with something they'll talk about for months to come!"
As it turned out, truer words were never spoken.
[Edited on 20/10/08 by Elfdame]
[Edited on 20/10/08 by Elfdame]
~~ ACT ONE ~~
Kurt and Logan relaxed in easy chairs in the drawing room of the Xavier mansion. They were taking a break after having built a platform for the talent show portion of the Institute's upcoming Halloween celebration.
"Whatcha dressin up as, fer the party? An Elf, maybe?"
Kurt snorted his derision. "Nein, mein Freund. I was thinking more along the lines of a circus performer."
"Now that shows some originality. Pass me a brewski." Kurt tossed a can to the hirsute man; Logan placed it on the end table to settle for a moment before popping the top. "I heard Jean and Scott were goin' as Li'l Abner and Daisy Mae."
In unison the two said, "Not likely," then shared a chuckle.
"Perhaps we should go as something on a theme."
"Like what? I don't like that shifty look in yer yellow eyes."
"Oh, Frankenstein and his creation."
"Which one of us is the monster?"
"Well, myself being a natural-born German, I assumed I would be the good Doktor."
"Your birth wasn't nothin' natural. How 'bout we go as Starsky and Hutch?"
"Ach, you've been watching those late-night TV-Land reruns again. Perhaps I could be Jack Sparrow, and you … erm, Davey Jones?"
"Too much makeup. Gotta keep it simple. Easy to take off if we have some good-lookin' guests who might want, y'know, a tour of the place." He took a swig. "If you get my meanin'."
"How about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. You have the ninja training."
Logan's expression said it all.
"Butch and Sundance?"
Wolverine waved the suggestion away. "Ain't really us, is it?"
"I've thought of a perfect solution. I go as a juggler, and you as a lumberjack. Get one of those rubber axes to tuck in your belt, and you have a costume."
"Brilliant, Elf," Logan said, then gave a dramatic sigh. "Don't know why I bothered askin' ya. 'Sides," he reached for some cocktail wieners, "you were one o' them flyin' fellas, weren'tcha?"
"Ja. An aerialist. But in the circus, everyone learns to juggle sooner or later."
Logan looked askance, finding the Little Smokies had been scarfed by the fuzzy blue guy, and settled for a bowl of popcorn, coating the mound with garlic-butter spray as 'Crawler continued his explanation.
"One cannot help but pick up various skills, especially if one is curious as well as confined to the circus by fear of being harmed for being a mutant."
"I'll toss you some of these empties and see how good ya are."
Kurt bounded to the stage, ending in a handstand, and winked at Logan. "Ready."
Logan lofted a trio of cans one at a time toward Nightcrawler, who caught them one-two-three and kept them spinning in the air, using his feet.
"Too easy," the juggler said, removing one hand from the floor.
In response, the runt grunted and tossed a TV Guide at him, which the blue man assimilated into the mix without missing a beat. Logan grunted again. "Showoff."
Kurt answered with his wide white smile and tossed the magazine to his free hand and back while keeping the crumpled cans cascading in a complicated circuit.
Wolverine hefted his ashtray, thought for a moment, and lobbed it at Nightcrawler, spattering him with a fall of ashes like grey snowflakes.
After a few moments, Kurt threw all the objects in sequence at Logan, ported behind the chair, and caught them before they could hit his friend.
"Think yer so special, do ya?"
"Merely a few tricks I learned along the way."
"I can do stuff, too."
"No doubt."
The burly fellow collected some of the cans from the pile around his boots. "Go over there and catch these."
Nightcrawler did as instructed until his arms were overloaded and a few cans clattered to the floor.
"Put 'em down on that table so you'll be ready." He lofted several more empties, duly caught and deposited on a small dinette table which would later hold some of the evening's snacks.
"Now, throw 'em to me and call the claw." Wolverine pulled his mask all the way down so it covered his face, thought better of it, shoved it back like a hoodie, and shut his eyes.
"First right," Kurt yelled, aiming the aluminum projectile high.
SNIKT!Logan felt the tiny rush of air and swiveled to catch it in the claw between the middle and forefinger of his left hand, then opened his eyes. "Let's get this straight. My right or your right?"
"Um … you call it?" He gave his best ingratiating grin, canines sparkling.
"Okay, you say 'right' and I'll go for the left. This," he waved the open claw, can still embedded, "will be my first, and this," the one by the pinky slid out, "is last. Got it?"
"Ja, ja." He swirled several cans in the air, barely seeming to watch them as they danced in figure eights. "Let the games begin."
The beer cans came fast and furious, but Logan caught them all, each on the claw announced by his friend, scraping them off against the chair arm to make room for the next. "I could do this all day and not break a sweat," he boasted.
Suddenly he was wet. Dripping wet. Foamy wet.
Beer-soaked wet.
And the Elf was hugging his own sides in laughter. "Trick or treat – you've been tricked!"
Wolverine merely frowned. A perfectly good beer, wasted. "No use having Charley all over our skin about leaving a mess. Get me a trash bag, and while you're at it, a coupla towels."
"With pleasure, my friend." Snickering, Kurt wandered off in the direction of the kitchen. When he returned, Wolverine had piled the offending objects in a loose hillock.
"Alright, Elf, you hold the bag and I'll shovel 'em in."
As the last of the aluminum cans skittered into the bag, Wolverine lunged at Nightcrawler, bowling him over and pinning him to the ground. In one hand he held the garlic butter bottle, with which he began to spritz the supine form. "I'll see your 'trick or treat,' and raise you a 'turnabout is fair play.'" In half a heartbeat, he was talking to himself. Actually, talking to a violet cloud of rotten-egg fumes. He wasn't sure which was worse: being doused in beer, smelling the bamf exhaust, or the knowledge that the greasy essence of garlic spray would linger on him, at least until he had time to shower it off.
Before Logan could finish these olfactory musings, Kurt reappeared, perched on the shorter man's back. "Are we even now? Let's finish this childish game and begin planning our party antics. We have to come up with something they'll talk about for months to come!"
As it turned out, truer words were never spoken.
[Edited on 20/10/08 by Elfdame]
[Edited on 20/10/08 by Elfdame]