The Xavier Mansion Diaries: Mystique

by Troll Princess

DAY ONE

Erik off to Washington to parade around in well-tailored suit and taunt Charles. Both things may or may not be related. Caught Erik checking out well-tailored pants in mirror to see if they made his butt look big, so can't be all that sure.

Also, feel as if I'm babysitting and not getting paid, as Sabertooth and Toad at it again. Told Toad that sticking his tongue out at the great hairy jerk a bad idea, but advice obviously didn't sink in, as spent forty-five minutes this afternoon helping Toad unwind the damn thing from the grating in the cliff. Might have been less difficult if Sabertooth hadn't double-knotted the bow at the end.

DAY TWO

Erik back from Washington. Immediately sent Sabertooth on wild goose chase for weirdo mutant in Canada and Toad to local Circle K for pork rinds before sidling up to me on the couch and asking me to turn into Charles and call him "pookie".

May lock myself in the room for the night, but am not all that sure I want to spend all that time alone pondering Erik's fixation with bald men in big chairs.

DAY THREE

Am officially freezing my ass off in this icebox of a lair. Turning into Eskimo complete with huge parka not even working. Would give my eye-teeth for a velour sweatsuit right now.

DAY FOUR

May kill Toad and Sabertooth in their sleep, as hiding-the-TV-remote game reaching new levels. Cannot emphasize enough how bitchy I get when I miss "Full House".

DAY FIVE

Ugh. Have spent all day masquerading as snotty assistant to bigoted senator, and can only say after looking through his desk that snot-nosed punk deserved to be eaten by Sabertooth. Annoying repeated claims by Sabes that assistant tasted like chicken surely made worth it by Danielle Steel novels in his briefcase and "Mmm-Bop" as the ringer on his cell phone.

In other news, hopefully can avoid Erik and pals for the rest of the night, as have no idea how to explain cell-phone-shaped bump on my chest. Am pretty sure that calling putting it into my jacket before changing back into me a blond moment apt to set off Sabertooth hissy fit.

DAY SIX

V. good news, as Erik's test of funky new mutant-making machine a complete success. Unfortunately, also v. bad news, as senator now squishy enough to escape.

Would have been perfectly willing to go looking for the idiot -- however, have been hiding out in my room ever since Erik's proud and well-practiced speech to senator interrupted twice by frustrating trill of "Mmm-Bop" from the general direction of my right breast.

DAY SEVEN

Spent day wandering around Xavier's school as blond prettyboy. Was having a perfectly good time causing mischief and being all evil-like until that Summers creep came up to me and practically begged me to sing a few bars of "Backstreet's Back." Was slowly backing away when sneaky Chinese chit dumped what had to have been an entire forestful of maple syrup on my head.

Have no idea what the little blond bastard did to deserve such treatment, but cannot get out of the place fast enough.

DAY EIGHT

Alcohol units: 12. Only way to warm up in this joint. This keeps up, and I may have to start stealing clothes from skittish teenager. Not like she couldn't live without a scarf or two, as is apparent that girl left Xavier's wearing every piece of clothing she's owned since birth.

DAY TEN

Sinister plans foiled. Erik arrested. Have been stabbed in stomach by pissy Wolverine, and am now being subjected to nasty three-times-daily servings of Jell-O and hockey pucks the nurses swear are meatloaf.

However, cannot possibly be as bad as scene back at lair, as have no doubt that Toad's tongue so fried he's simply left the damn thing dangling out of his mouth and Sabertooth presumably licking his wounds and grumbling about how they taste like pus.

DAY ELEVEN

Have left hospital and gone to Washington to masquerade as Senator Kelly. Ugh. Hope I can leave soon, as can only keep up these nonexistant lips and fish-belly cheeks for so long before I yack.

DAY TWELVE

V. good news, as have left Washington and returned to lair. Ah, home sweet ...

All right, where'd my Antonio Banderas poster go? And what's that stench?

DAY THIRTEEN

Apparently, absence of authority figures has driven Sabertooth and Toad back to early childhood. Have found cherry bombs in lair's toilets, rubber spiders in my underwear drawer, and strange smell I don't even want to try and identify coming from underneath my bed. Can't decide which of the others to kick out of their bedrooms, as Sabertooth sheds and leaves unsightly stains, and Toad drools.

DAY SEVENTEEN

Ha! V. good news, as have won bet with Erik over whether or not constant bickering between Sabertooth and Toad really lover's quarrels in disguise. Pair left note taped to front door of lair -- "Sick of being lackeys. Both need to see chiropractors because of all the metal furniture. Off to Vermont to get married and start an emu farm." Do not even want to begin thinking about what the children will look like.

Only unfortunate bit the inability of Erik to pay up, as is still trapped in plastic jail. Not entirely awful, however, as have decided to call up to the people at "Trading Spaces" to arrange for the redecorating of the lair. Go, me!

DAY NINETEEN

Hooray! Have gotten in touch with villain in lair across the way, and Sinister only too happy to join in on "Trading Spaces" episode. Said something about getting his brother Larry to help out. As Toad and Sabertooth currently honeymooning at Vermont B&B, have been racking my brain all day to come up with possible replacements.

Wonder who the lair's designer will be. Am hoping it will be Vern, as may end up killing or maiming several crew members if Kia comes anywhere near the place.

As for potential partner, had to call half of the villains in Erik's little black book before Christopher Lowell agreed to come over. Was perfectly happy with the arrangement before it hit me that I'd grabbed the wrong little black book.

Or maybe I didn't. May have to check with Erik on that one.

DAY TWENTY-THREE

V.v. bad news, as Kia brought in to redesign the lair. Have already killed a cameraman, a grip, and that annoyingly perky host. Am really hoping that cute but dopey carpenter pulls something, as would probably receive great karmic gift when I rip his larynx out.

DAY TWENTY-FIVE

Argh! Kia's do-over a total disaster. Apparently out of the loop on the evil-genius's-cave-embedded-lair memo, as has gone insane and put up a ridiculous green paisley border around entire lair and a papier-mache donkey in the TV room. Not even going to start contemplating how to explain the rest of her godawful Christmas motif to Erik. Christopher Lowell no help at all, with the exception of interesting sound he made when he hit the ocean's surface.

Only hope that killing Kia and burying the body on Xavier's property good enough escaping-from-jail present for the old coot.

DAY THIRTY

Took long enough, but finally found out where Erik has been kept. Had to deal with getting manhandled by annoying military twit and mute sidekick to find that out, but have perfect revenge in mind, as nude "Men of the Military" and "Anime Warrior Girls Come Alive!" calenders looking for models.

LATER

Ewwwwww. Had to make out with nasty prison guard for plan to work. Am not sure Erik pays me enough for this.

DAY THIRTY-ONE

Yay! Erik finally out of prison. Spent all day filling Erik in on what he missed while he was incarcerated. Thoroughly enjoyed explaining the whole "Trading Spaces" debacle ... however, had to politely decline Erik's request to turn into Charles and go shopping for window treatments.

LATER

Hooray! Finally found something to wash that nasty prison guard taste out of my mouth. Did you know that Wolverine's tongue tastes like caramel? Strange, huh? You'd think it'd taste like cigars or scotch or unclean body parts he'd licked or something.

DAY THIRTY-TWO

V.v. bad news, as plan to trick Charles into killing humans failed miserably. However, have picked up snot-nosed, rebellious teenager with broody, Connor-from-"Angel" thing going on. Hopefully, will not feel the same urge to smack him around as I do with Connor from "Angel," but if so, cannot possibly be as bad as Sabertooth or Toad.

LATER

Alcohol units: 10. Cigarettes: 20. Have heard teenagers are whiny, but this is ridiculous. Can only be grateful that as lair mostly rock and metal, nothing really flammable lying --

OW!

LATER

Note to self ... no more alcohol or cigarettes in the lair.

***

Troll Princess Flavor of the Moment (http://flavor_of_the_moment.blogspot.com) -- Because sometimes, leaving your brain at home is a good thing. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "If Edgar Allan Poe were alive today, his agent would be constantly slapping him upside the head with tightly rolled copies of his brilliant short stories and novelettes, yelling, 'Full-length novels, you moron! Pay attention! What's the matter with you -- are you shooting heroin or something? Write for the market! No more of this midlength 'Fall of the House of Usher' crap" -- Dean Koontz