Challenge #00080: The Green-Eyed Monster
Scott preparing for his first date without Jean and her reaction to finding out that he might be playing the field with no desire to incite jealousy in her by doing so.
“Sara’s showing some of her filmography in the big screening room, downstairs. Coming?”
Scott was busy fiddling with a proper bow tie. “Sorry, I’ll catch up with it all, later. I have a date.”
Jean startled, all of the things Xavier had told her not to do were bubbling temptations in the back of her head. But so, too, was the knowledge that Xavier had more than one reason for not doing certain things. Primary amongst those was the fact that he’d experienced or witnessed the downside of doing them. So, instead of seventeen different types of mind-rape, Jean put on a fake smile and said, “A date? Who’s the lucky girl?”
“Kylie Mavert. She’s apparently had a thing for me and I thought - hey, I know exactly what that’s like, so… Y'know.” He shrugged as he untied and attempted to re-tie the tie again. “We’re trying it on for size. See if we click.”
“And no ulterior motives.”
Scott boggled at her and messed up the tie again. “Damnit…”
Jean could tell by his waves of confusion that he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Come on, let me help.”
“I should be able to,” Scott protested. “I have diagrams and everything.”
“Mmmm. Diagrams versus someone who’s been tying bows her entire life…”
“Okay. I surrender.” He handed her the diagram anyway.
Ha. He’d forgotten the tuck-and-twist bit. “Why a bow tie?” She got it sitting pretty.
“Bow ties are cool. I have it on top authority.”
“Sara or Kylie’s authority?”
Another boggle. “Kylie’s of course. A gentlemen should always dress and act to please the lady.”
That one struck to her heart. If he was mine… But no. She’d chosen Duncan, because it was more ‘normal’ to date the high school lead jock. Because seeming normal was the be-all and end-all and still was.
Because she wasn’t as brave as Sara, who said, “Normal is boring.”
Because of all of that, she had to watch him go out to meet a different girl, who would get more than any girl ever deserved because Scott believed whole-heartedly that every woman deserved to be put on some kind of pedestal. Or at least a step-stool that topped out above the sea of ingrained misogyny.
She hadn’t seen it, before now.
Scott would have been good for her. She and he would have made a cute couple. And because she was too scared to be 'weird’, she missed out on it.
She wished Kylie well. She did. It was herself she wanted to strangle.
[Muse food remaining: 12. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]
Challenge #00079: White W(h)ine
The cronies, post meltdown, discussing the sad state of their affairs and their choices in a not-so secret location. Scott makes an appearance.
Three of them came to the not-so-secret hide-away in the abandoned church to basically bitch about what had just happened.
“Did you see him crying? It’s like he just grew tits…” said Graydon
“That fucking Tranny Essel got to him. I kinda sympathize,” said Brent.
Graydon punched what was left of the altar. “I’m'a kill that fucking tranny someday.”
“I’ll help,” volunteered Paul.
“Not today, we don’t,” said Brent. “That tranny expects it. I’d bet money he’s lying in wait for us to fuck up.”
“You volunteering to fuck it?” leered Paul.
“Dude! Sick!”
The other two cackled. “He can’t be a fag,” said Graydon. “He fucked Sally Richards just last week.”
“Hasn’t everyone fucked Sally Richards? Fucking slut.”
“Damn straight, I’m straight.”
“You know,” said a voice from the shadows, “The less secure you are about your sexuality, the more likely you are to be in the closet.”
Summers stepped out of the shadows. He had some kind of weird costume on. And a strange headpiece over his eyes. “Near as I see it, you guys have two options. Surrender to the cops, or head to Narnia.”
“What cops?” asked Paul.
Lights shone through the windows. Sirens blatted briefly.
“Those cops,” said Summers. “By the way, Dunc ratted you out. Have fun pleading innocence.”
Graydon charged. Summers did something with his headpiece and a red bolt of light locked him into the nearest wall.
“Well?” he asked the other two. “Surrender or Narnia?”
Brent, the smartest of the three, sat with his hands on his head.
[Muse food remaining: 2. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]
Challenge #00078: One Fine Day in the Seasonal Candy Store
One more prompt, a bit late, but Sara’s reaction to finding out that these (http://www.ourordinarylife.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/hershey-3.jpg) exist. (if picture is not working, some genius at Hershey thought a golden apple was a good valentines chocolate idea. There were several “for the fairest” experiments by tumblr-ers)
There are words of impending doom. A high-pitched, “Ooooh!” coming from Sahra was one of them.
“Sara, no-oo…” said Todd automatically as he zoomed in on her squee-of-the-coming-apocolypse.
“But it’s perfect! Just look at what Hershey’s done.”
It was a box containing a golden apple. Or rather, a chocolate apple wrapped in gold foil. An instant replay of certain greco-roman myths ran through his head.
“No. Don’t. I don’ care how bad those bitches are, they don’t deserve yo’ happenin’ to them like this…”
“Yes they do,” countered Sara.
“No. Nobody does,” he insisted. “You wanna ’nother Eckley’s Eats happening? You nearly got arrested.”
“On the upside, I learned I have a file at the FBI…”
“That’s not an upside, hon.”
Sara spent a minute on social calculus inside her head. “Oh. Yes. Right.” She put the chocolate apple down. “But, oh, the possibilities…”
Todd couldn’t stand to see her down. “Tell yo’ what. I’m'a buy this one for you. ‘Cos you my fairest.”
“Aaaawwww…”
“And you promise to just eat it.”
“My word as a closet megalomaniac.”
“Good enough fo’ me.”
[Muse food remaining: 3. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]
Challenge #00077: Just a Chocolate Bunny
You seem to be runing low on musefood, so may we hear the tale of The Battle of the Lindt Gold Bunny
There were six golden bunnies. One for each resident of the house they shared. Including Breanna, who paid for them out of their scant communal funds.
There was one left on Easter Sunday.
“Who had one?” Breanna demanded. “I told everyone they were for Easter. We knew. Didn’t we?”
“I knew,” said Cari, then Crystal, then May, then Jenny and finally Ann.
“So who had one? Who had any of them?”
And then Cari’s looser boyfriend emerged from the room he shared with Cari and said, “Aw, cool. You found one,” and snatched it out of Breanna’s hands.
Cold, angry death filled the room as Gav unwrapped the foil.
“What?” said Gav. “It’s just a chocolate bunny.”
And then he put it in his mouth.
Six angry, pre-menstrual women launched themselves towards Gav with whatever weapons they could lay their hands on and murder in their minds. Gav had the presence of mind to run for the nearest exit.
No jury in the world would have convicted them.
As it was, the resulting footage wound up on Australia’s Funniest Videos, World’s Funniest News, and topped out Youtube for seven weeks.
Gav had an awful lot of bad luck with the ladies for years.
[Muse food remaining: 4. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]
Challenge #00076: One Fine Day in Xavier’s Institute for Gifted Youngsters
Scott catches one of the students testing his new policy regarding pranks and bad grades.
The first strategy, the best strategy, was not having a routine. He was such an easy target because there were places and times he liked to be and things he always did once he was there.
Which was why he found someone in his ensuite with a roll of suran wrap.
“Bobby. Can’t resist the classics, I see.”
“Um.” Bobby looked up. “Hi?”
“First offense, five demerits off your leading class. Which is physics, I believe?”
“…yeah…”
“Second offense is five demerits off your tailing class. Third offense… and I let Sara play with you. Be warned.”
“…yessir.”
[Muse food remaining: 5. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]
Challenge #00075: Lactose tolerance
Olive branch diplomacy between Scott and Todd while snacking on ice cream. Jamie makes an appearance.
Todd froze as he turned away from the ice cream van. Mister military was also there. Also getting a flake cone.
“Summers,” he managed warily.
“I… uh… heard you were -um- in a bad place.”
“So?”
“I had a real bad foster parent right before I manifested. Damn rat bastard named Winters.”
“Mine was an uncle. Ev'ry time my olds got jail time, he’d… help himself.”
“Damn. I’m lucky Winters just beat the shit outta me.”
They both ate some ice-cream to fill the silence.
“Whad'ja do?” asked Todd. “To… make it go away?”
“Hoarded canned food.”
“I had art.”
Another contemplative mastication.
“You’re pretty good,” said Summers.
“Thanks.”
“So… Sara,” said Summers.
“Yeah?”
“Break her heart and I break your balls.”
Todd grinned. “Never planned on it, yo.”
Jamie landed on Scott’s arm. “PleaseIgottahaveanickel, tellmeyagotanickel!”
Todd fished one out. “There ya go, kid.”
“YES!”
[Muse food remaining: 6. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]
Challenge #00073: Ch-ch-ch-changes…
End with: “The effort to change was, she found, equal or greater than the amount needed to suffer.”
“Will you waaaaaaalk… The lonesome vaaaaa-lleeeeeyy…” The protesters sang.
Val shouted, “Mu-tants OUT!” over and over while she waved her sign that read, “EVIL-UTION IS THE DEVIL!”
She, along with her fellow members of the church, were protesting a mutant treatment center. It didn’t matter to Val that they were helping kids survive manifestation sickness and become productive members of society.
What mattered was that Evil-ution was plain and outright wrong. It meant that God was trying to change his perfect creation. And if God was changing his perfect creation, that implied that the creation wasn’t perfect, and God was fallible and needed to improve things.
And that would mean that God was not as divine as Val and millions of others believed.
Which was why she and her church were so mad.
If she shouted loud enough, prayed hard enough, worked long enough… she could change their minds and make them stay holy and pure and save them from Hell.
A sudden bolt from her spine made her drop to the floor, convulsing at the pain wrenching through her. Val screamed in horror. God had struck her down!
Why?
She’d been good.
And now her entire body was wrenching itself into a new form. Her arms were growing fur. FUR!
She wept. Not because it hurt, but because God had marked her as a sinner. But she would pray it away. She would atone.
The effort to change was, she found, equal or greater than the amount needed to suffer.
[Muse food remaining: 8. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]
Challenge #00072: Dingy, Dire, Depressing
Describe the first AA meeting Sara’s mother goes to.
[my wrists hate me :P]
It was in a basement that smelled heavily of dust. And mildew. Like all truly public spaces, it was painted in a shade of easily-cleanable cream that gained a patina in seconds, and quickly smelled of cabbage. Seating was by means of folding chairs in Bargain Blue that had no basis in comfort.
Older hats, Jacqui noted, bought their own pillows.
She sat on her chosen seat as if she wished she could sit on Sara’s mythical ‘fried air’.
Everyone around her was either clinging to coffee or attached to cigarettes. Transference, Sara would say. One was knitting. Jacqui didn’t know how to knit, and smoking was a filthy habit. It was going to be coffee or finding something else she could do with her hands.
She fetched herself a coffee. Ugh. Cheap instant roast.
Too soon, they came to new members. She climbed the stage with trembling knees. “My… name is… Jacquelline. And I’m an alcoholic.”
Already, she felt lighter.
[Muse food remaining: 9. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]
Challenge #00070: Strengths
Scott beats Sara to the intellectual punch and DOESN’T crow about it.
[AN: my wrist is paining me, today, so therefore I drabble]
Scott came upon Sara in the garage, once again repairing her quirk-ridden scooter, Eileen. And, he had to note, cussing politely.
“Gluteus maximus!”
“Problems?”
“Recalcitrant gearbox, alas.”
Scott looked and briefly wondered how she couldn’t see her mistake. “You put that in backwards and upside-down,” he said, pointing.
“Oh, crud vapours!”
“It happens to everyone. Don’t feel bad about it.”
[Muse food remaining: 11. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]
Challenge #00069: Power Struggle
Privilege, the halls of power and what drives those who wield it to deign it that way.
“Right,” said Bu'zaw, Earth’s new administrative assistant. “I’m trying to understand this. I am. Let me see if I have this straight.”
“Go on,” prompted Britanian Ambassador Winthrop.
“A relatively small percentage of the overall population have power over the larger percentage by means of building upon centuries of conquering and exploitation.”
“In essence, yes,” the Britanian admitted. “By and large, they were just lucky to have the biggest guns at the time. Having established power, they institutionalized the concept that they should remain in power by casting themselves as savior-figures.”
“And then made themselves the beauty ideal by dominating media, and kept the original populations in control by economic exploitation, yes?”
“Yes.”
“And now that we’ve come in with the bigger guns and the mightier force and are actually trying to make things more equitable for everyone… they object?”
“Yes.”
“Why? This is more or less their own established methods for doing things.”
“Yes, but they don’t like it when it happens to them.”
“Ah. And the only way to placate them is…?”
“Letting them continue in their delusion that they can do what they want.”
“But… that’s…” Bu'zaw flailed for a suitable Terran metaphor. “That’s defecating on their own table!”
“Almost,” said the ambassador diplomatically. “The phrase is, ‘you don’t crap where you eat’. Close, as we say, but no cigar.”
“I wouldn’t want one,” muttered Bu'zaw. “How did they remain in power for so long?”
“By being vehemently and vocally opposed to change,” said Winthrop. “They constantly used the threat that change would destroy the world as they know it.”
“And nobody noticed that the world as they know it isn’t very nice?”
“They did, but they weren’t allowed to say much.”
“Because those in power like to keep it that way?” Bu'zaw guessed.
“Spot on, sir.”
“I’m almost tempted to ship them all off to their own planet and see what the wreckage looks like.”
Winthrop cleared his throat. “We already have two Greater Deregulations.” He checked to make sure the metaphorical penny had dropped. “One would think that would be wreckage enough.”
“We could pick one and ship them there. Pop them into their own sewer, as it were…”
“They refuse to leave,” said Winthrop. “Allegedly because they love their planet so much.”
Bu'zaw winced. “I think some of my neurons imploded from the dichotomy.”
“Best not to think about it too hard,” said Winthrop. “It’s what they do.”
Bu'zaw rolled his eyes at the universe and large and sighed, “Humans…” He was starting to believe that his appointment as administrative assistant to the planet Terra had actually been a punishment detail. He’d have to find out who he had offended and obsequiously -and profusely- apologize.
[Muse food remaining: 12. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]