Your Children Will Weep Over Your Exploded Body

The following is one of my parodies, which might be a bit confusing to you. It's part of a much larger continuity that I refer to as the Keoghverse. Two things you need to know here: Wolverine (also known as the Drunken Hobbit) has been unable to actually say what he thinks for some time now. What comes out of his mouth these days is usually nonsense. In this case, familiar nonsense.

Oh, and Magneto (also known as Fluffy) is long since dead, replaced by a woman who likes cross dressing in his clothes.

I told you it would be a bit confusing.

I'm playing around with this image:

The Xavier estate. Artist Carlo Pacheco has come today to do a publicity sketch of several X-Men (plus one Atlantean monarch who, contrary to rumors is not an X-Man). Gathered around a pile of rubble on the far reaches of the property are the group: Cyclops, Emma Frost, Kitty Pryde, Wolverine, Colossus, Ming Xavier, and Namor. Ming, as always, is dressed in the Magneto armor and helmet, filling in for the deceased mutant tyrant otherwise known as Fluffy. For some reason, she likes wearing his armor. Kitty is slightly phased into the rock, and wearing a bubble helmet for some inexplicable reason. Namor looks grouchy. Colossus, true to form, seems confused (he's not very bright, remember). Emma is clearly uncomfortable (and underdressed). Cyclops tries to look resolved and determined. And Wolverine, as usual, appears constipated. He's also drunk. Pacheco sits at a sketchboard, drawing.

Pacheco: Just hold that pose a little longer. I'm nearly done.
Emma: Just hurry up. I have many better things to do today.
Namor: Why on earth I had to be here for this sketch is beyond me.
Pacheco: Your Highness, sir, I'm afraid home office insisted on that.
Namor: Hmmm. That makes me want to teach home office a lesson.
Scott: So much for you promising to play nice with the surface world.
Namor: That home office spends far too much time making demands of heroes.
Kitty: I'm inclined to agree with Namor. Why did they insist on me wearing this?
Pacheco: I try not to question the directives and orders coming from my bosses.
Kitty: Come on! I'm wearing a bubble helmet! It's annoying and it's undignified, too!
Logan: Your face will melt off, and your children will weep over your exploded body.
Logan: *thinking* I didn't mean to say that! Now where the hell did that come from?
Namor: I see that hairy rodent still isn't making any sense.
Scott: That obvious, huh? I wonder where he got that one.
Logan: *thinking* Damn it, Namor, I'm not a hairy rodent!!
Logan: All of them look like droopy-eyed, armless children.
Colossus: Now that didn't make sense at all to me, da?
Ming: I suspect it doesn't make sense to Logan either.
Namor: He's still not speaking what he actually thinks?
Scott: Not since Thor clobbered him with his hammer.
Kitty: He seems to be quoting that actor in meltdown.
Logan: *thinking* So is that where it's coming from?
Ming: Kind of hard to ignore that insane buffoon now.
Scott: Indeed. He seems to be everywhere these days.
Namor: Has it occurred to you people to get him an MRI?
Emma: Just hurry it up with your sketch, Mister Pacheco.
Scott: You can't stand to be around me, can you, Emma?
Namor: I'm serious. Wolverine obviously has serious brain damage.
Emma: Is it that obvious? Of course I can't stand to be around you.
Kitty: It's me that she can't stand to be around. What with me and her daughters.
Emma: Kitty, I ask that you refrain from mentioning your sordid affair with my girls.
Kitty: I'm sure you would, but I think I'd rather go into explicit detail about the girls.
Emma: You're sleeping with them to get back at me for the way I broke up with you.
Kitty: That's one reason, but I'm also doing it because the girls are a lot of fun in bed.
Colossus: Would we not talk about this, Katya? It is still, how do you say? Sore spot.
Kitty: As if I could care less what you have to say. Why I wasted time with you...
Ming: Really, really, must we bicker so much? Can't we all just get along?
Emma: Quiet, you. You're only here because you're married to Charles.
Ming: And Charles and I are very happy together, too, for that matter...
Scott: Yet you keep wearing Magneto's armor. That brings up questions.
Ming: My family has made a tradition of wearing the garments of Magneto.
Emma: Look, dearie, I'm sure you Xorns like doing that, but it's just... creepy.
Namor: Creepy is more or less of an understatement for what it is, you know.
Logan: They lay down with their ugly wives in front of their ugly children....
Emma: Damn. The drunken hobbit is doing it yet again. Can you shut up?
Logan: .....And just look at their loser lives and then they look at me...
Kitty: Wolverine, really, maybe it's time we have you seriously treated.
Logan: And they say "I can't process it."
Logan: *thinking* Why am I saying that?
Emma: Maybe have Logan neutered too.
Logan: *thinking* Hey! That's not funny!

Twas The Night Before Christmas....

VS

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the Xavier School For Gifted Children.... no, wait. I'm not a poet, so rhyming is out.

The Xavier mansion. Late Christmas Eve. Some years ago. The Drunken Hobbit, perpetual slob, and possessor of a $257 000 bar tab known either as Logan or Wolverine walks through the darkened corridors. He strolls into the kitchen, grubby and unshaven as usual, looking rather like something the cat spat up. If there were cats to be seen, that is. This is, after all, the home of a headmaster who has a fondness for eating housecats. Finding a beer in the fridge, he muses briefly on how odd it is to stock alcohol in a school full of mutant children. He opens it up, starts drinking, and pads out of the kitchen. Coming back out into a large common area, he sees a dark shape of a man, sniffs the air, picking up the scent of cookies. He unsheathes his claws, ready for the attack on the intruder.

Logan: Hey, bub.
*The man turns.*
Logan: Wrong place to break into.
*Logan drives his claws into the man's gut.*
Logan: And I'm the wrong mutant to mess with.
*The man falls, gasping, and hits the floor hard.*
Logan: 'Cause I'm the best there is at what I do.
*Logan turns on the lights, and sees who's there.*
Logan: Oh hell, this can't possibly end well, can it?
*Santa Claus lies motionless on the floor before Logan.*
Logan: Hey, bub. Tell me you're just a burglar in a Santa suit.
*He hears movement behind him, and Jubilee and Husk come in.*
Jubilee: Hey, Logan, were you out drinking your Christmas Eve away?
Husk: What's with the fat bloke in the red... oh dear God... is that...?
Jubilee: What the...? Wait. Did you just... did you kill Santa Claus?
Logan: Um, he was like this when I got here, I swear.
Husk: Those are claw marks in his stomach, Logan!
Logan: Look, I swear to you, he was coming at me!!
Jubilee: Wolverine! You murdered Santa Claus!!
Logan: It was self defense! How was I to know?
Husk: Wait a minute here... Santa Claus is real?
Jubilee: Whether or not he's real isn't important.
Logan: Listen, there's a reasonable explanation.
Jubilee: Yes! You murdered Santa Claus, Logan!
Logan: Wait! No, I didn't. He ran into my claws!
*He now hears some movement behind him.*
Logan: He ran right into my claws, I tell you!
*He turns. Santa is standing, and looking mad.*
Santa: You've been a really, really naughty boy, Logan.
Logan: Wait a minute... how could you be standing? I just gutted you.
Santa: I'm 1456 years old. My healing factor's a lot better then yours.
Logan: Look, no hard feelings, all right, bub? Let bygones be bygones.
Santa: I don't like being called bub.
Logan: How about fat boy instead?
Santa: I don't like that one either.
Logan: Make up your mind, bub...
*Santa clobbers Logan on the head.*
Logan: Was that all you've got, fat boy...?
*Logan starts to sway, and collapses to the floor, unconcious.*
Santa: You'd be fat too if you were eating 5 billion cookies in one night.
Jubilee: Wait a minute.... are you really him? How'd you knock him out?
Santa: Yes, I'm really Santa. And I'm a magic being. My mere touch is enough to send this Drunken Hobbit into slumber if I see fit, so you can imagine what hitting him on the head would do. He'll probably wake up sometime into the New Year, so you girls ought to enjoy the peace and quiet while you've got it. And when he wakes up, he's going to find a whole lot of coal in his stocking. I mean, I might have a healing factor, but this suit of mine doesn't. How I'm going to explain three big gashes to the wife... I don't know. You have any idea how cranky she gets when I'm late?
*Santa picks up his bag, and starts to leave.*
Santa: Ho ho ho, and Merry Christmas!
*Santa walks out of the room.*
Jubilee: No one will believe us.
Husk: I'd have to agree there.
Jubilee: They'll say we were high.
Husk: Maybe that we were drinking.
Jubilee: Hey, I only drank a little bit!!
Husk: Three schnapps isn't a little bit.

Death By Asteroid

Something a little different from what you might be used to; I've been writing this kind of thing for awhile, and thought I'd copy one here.....


****

Taking on the cover for Uncanny X-Force #1, featuring several unlikely mutants....






New York City. The studios of artist Esad Ribic. Several X-Men have come to pose for the artist, who's superimposing them into a skyline of the city on the sketchpad before him. Psylocke, Archangel, Deadpool, Fantomex, and Wolverine are all gathered together, posed, wearing dark black, grey, and blue variants on their costumes. True to form, Wolverine looks angry, or constipated, depending on who's looking at him.

Ribic: Just hold that pose, just a little bit longer, everyone. Almost there...
Psylocke: Why did you call me I here? I don't have much use for Wolverine.
Logan: *thinking* Hey!! Mind your manners! I still have feelings, you know!!
Logan: Blaze McRob is a complete horses' ass! You heard it here first, bub!
Deadpool: Wait. Who's Blaze McRob, and is Logan starting to make sense?
Archangel: That can't be. He hasn't been clobbered on the head as of late.
Deadpool: True, but Logan said bub. He hasn't said that in a long while.
Logan: *thinking* Damn, what's wrong with my brain? Enough already!
Fantomex: I'm just glad to be here. It feels like I was being ignored.
Deadpool: Probably because he doesn't like you.
Fantomex: Who's he?
Deadpool: That guy.
Fantomex: Who?
Deadpool: Him.
Fantomex: Who?
Archangel: Is this one of those Fourth Wall things?
Deadpool: You've got it. See, Domino is right. There's this guy at a computer, typing all of this, and I hate to have to inform you, Fantomexy, but he doesn't have much use for you. He's thinking of having an asteroid come out of the sky right now and hit you. Oh, sure, you're thinking, Deadpool's crazy! There's no such thing! Well, maybe I am crazy, but I know what I'm talking about.
Psylocke: Wilson, you're crazy.
Deadpool: You think so, Betsy?
Psylocke: Yes, I do think so.
Archangel: You're certifiable.
Deadpool: Thank you, Warren.
Fantomex: Wait... what asteroid?
Deadpool: Doesn't mean I'm wrong.
Archangel: Hell, yeah, you're wrong.
Deadpool: Yes, well, as it turns out, the guy out there has other things to worry about. He just wrote the Murder of Elmo. You know, the puppet from Sesame Street? Turns out that Elmo has his fans. And to make things worse, he fingered Grover as the culprit! And Grover's got this woman in his life who's got a muppet fetish! She's ready to kill him for attacking her muppet's reputation!
Archangel: Wade?
Deadpool: Yes....?
Archangel: Shut up.
Deadpool: It's all true!
Psylocke: Wade needs help.
*Fantomex goes out on the balcony.*
Fantomex: Asteroid? What asteroid?
Archangel: Is Doc Samson available?
Logan: *thinking* Who the hell is Blazin' McRob?
Psylocke: I'm not sure. He tends to be real busy.
Deadpool: Fine. I'll remind you that I told you so.
*There's a flash of light and a scream. Everyone looks outside. The balcony and Fantomex are gone. They move to the doors, seeing the balcony ripped off. Twenty floors down, on the ground, is an impact crater, and a fire around a smouldering rock. There's no trace of Fantomex. It's as if he's been disintegrated. No one will miss him.*
Deadpool: See? I told you so! The big guy wanted him dead, and now he's dead. Right about now, I'd expect, he's showing up in Hell and meeting little Elmo.
*Archangel and Psylocke look at each other, and then at Deadpool.*
Psylocke: Maybe there's something to this Fourth Wall business.
Ribic: How am I going to explain this to my insurance company?