Subject: No noogie, or Probably not the wisest time to post this....

Posted by: Mystaque at 04/19/00 19:08

[Playing the Substitution Card: If Cecilia weren't around, and Kitty were seated on the livingroom floor working on the VCR....]

Enter Nightcrawler, staggering from a BAMF! and clutching at his back.

He trips and falls onto the VCR, which makes a crunching sound that would be music to the ears of one in the business of selling VCRs, rolls dramatically, and lands face-down in Kitty's lap.

"Ach, oh, Kitty, oh, help me--! Oh, God, mein Gott, why hast thou forsaken me--?"

Kitty assesses his back with far less concern than annoyance. "Kurt, what the hell? What's so important you'd wreck our last chance of taping Xena tonight?"

"The Neo...! Oh, why would they hound—and persecute—one of their own? One who wants only to serve our Lord God? Oh, why? I am dying, Kitty—"

"There are three wienie picks sticking out of your back, Kurt."

"Was? Nein! They are bolts of steel! My life force is ebbing with every beat of my heart—"

"Okay." She shoves him off of her lap, leans back, and takes a pair of pliers from her toolkit. "Lie still a sec, wouldja?"

"Ach, nein, Katzchen! A doctor--! I need—But it would be too late—I am—"

"Gotcha the first time, Fuzzy." She plucks a wienie pick.

"Achy! Ach, Kitty, don't! The barbs will tear my flesh, and the infection will--"

Pluck.

"ACHY"

Pluck.

"IYIYIYACHY! Ow!"

Nightcrawler lies gasping on his belly. Kitty looks sourly at the cracked casing of the VCR.

"What's this about you wanting only to serve our Lord God, fuzznuts?"

"Haven't you heard, Katzchen? I am to become a PRIEST! A servant of GOD!"

Kitty bites her upper lip. "Pull the other one--!"

"Ja! I am!"

Kitty trades the pliers for a screwdriver and begins removing the VCR housing. "Got two words for you, Kurt. No. Noogie."

"Was?"

"What I said, smurfears. Not from Amanda. Not from me. Not from anyone. Not ever. Again."

Nightcrawler sits up sharply but casually. "Und, uh, who told you, uh...."

"You didn't read the handbook. Why am I not surprised?"

"But it is my destiny, Kitty! To be a servant of the Lord is my—"
Kitty looks at him directly, tapping the screwdriver on her leg. "It was a bet, Kurt. Just a stupid bet."

"But Logan said—"

"It was a bet, Kurt. Like you'd make him shave his sideburns." Her expression softens a little, to the point where it might just chip granite blocks instead of shattering the Alps. "No one can drink seven Shirley Temples in five minutes, Kurt. He was pulling your leg."

Logan strolls through. "Hiya, kid. Hiya, elf." He bends over, selects a wienie pick, and starts digging in his front teeth.

"Logan—" Nightcrawler says tentatively, "that thing about me—about the Shirley Temples and the—uh—the priest thing—Did you really mean—"

"Punkin', we are gonna get Xena tonight, right?"

"Working on it," Kitty mutters.

"Right. Priest, huh? You ain't that dumb, are yuh, elf?" Logan cuffs Nightcrawler playfully and strolls out with his wienie pick. "Heh heh heh."

"Ja. I mean, nein. Nein. Heh heh." Nightcrawler's blank eyes seem even blanker than usual. He gets to his feet. "I—er—I need to make a—I need to pray, Kitty." He reaches for the phone. He snatches it and pulls it around the corner, into the kitchen. "JA? HELLO? DIAL-A-PRAYER--?" He leans back into the livingroom to get a look at Kitty, who is feigning great interest in the guts of the VCR. Kurt leans back into the kitchen and whispers into the phone: "Hello, Bursar? This is Kurt Wagner—Nein, I think you misheard: not Freakner: Wagner. I have a question about my tuition—Nonrefund—Ja, but I thought I had until the thirtieth—Ja, I understand the Pope has standards to—and the archbishop—und, ja—Ten percent? That is all I can—Richtig. Ja. There are non-mutie-freak postulants on hold; I understand. Und, ja, Chicago Hope is coming on. Danke. Goodnight."

He puts the receiver in the cradle after smacking it firmly a dozen times against the kitchen wall. He pulls the phone cord from the wallsocket and binds the receiver to the cradle and throws the bundle on the floor. He jumps on it. He BAMFs! the handset in two, then in four. He picks the up the pieces and the wire and wanders back into the livingroom and sets the whole mess by Kitty's feet. "Urmm, the phone is not working, Katzchen."

"Gimme a sec, Kurt."

"I am throwing myself off the Brooklyn Bridge now."

"'kay. Have fun."

"I just wanted to—oh, Lord, Kitty, you saved my life—! Without you, your pliers, I would now be dead! Before I leave, now, Kitten, for the last time, before I go to contemplate my fate as he who is destined to be reviled by those he loves, to be bound nonrefundably--er, irredeemably to a harsh but loving God, I just wanted to say I am indebted eternally to—"

"Get me a Yoohoo, okay? You said you were going out, didn'tja?"

"Chocolate?"

"Yes, numbnuts. Jeez. As if anyone would drink that strawberry crap."

[t'end. F'r now.]

Mystaque