Round Robin Part IV
Title of Chapter: Death by Cookies
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but I made up the song.
Hey, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I enjoyed writing it. Please comment. I apoligize in advance for only limited dialogue. I don't use it often.
The morning dawned frigid and frosty, much to the displeasure of the Brotherhood. You would not believe the protests that emerged from such a hardened terrorist cell at having to get out of bed onto a cold floor in the wee hours of the morning. So it was with only with loud grumbling and bursts of sporadic cursing, that they bundled themselves onto their personal plane and off to the great Canadian wilderness in pursuit of the infamous and elusive creature known as the perfect Christmas tree.
The plane ride held the uncomfortable angry silence of last night with the oh so unwelcome addition of seething resentment. Needless to say, the entire ride was tantamount to torture. The cold gray morning light greeted them as they touched down in the middle of a pine forest. Surely, their odds of replacing the stupid tree and returning home for lunch were good, if only because of the sheer quantity and abundance of the prickly green trees.
Magneto stepped out and true to form explained the situation with his usual style and flair for the dramatic, consequently breaking the enforced silence. “ Our calling this winter morning is to replace the Christmas tree we took without permission and then proceeded to destroy, nay, vaporize. We are to find a tree of equal or greater magnificence, cut it down without hurting ourselves, decorate it, and deliver it personally along with a sincere verbal apology. We will not be getting a tree for ourselves; we are not tree people. You have already proved that you are too inept to handle a live tree. We will be buying a plastic one at Wal-Mart. Then, if you can mange that, you may have access to the kitchen and be allowed to carry on your senseless frivolity with the making of holiday cookies. If any of you misbehaves, I will be forced to revoke this privilege. Any questions?” The sound of silence could be heard as every holiday minded Brotherhood mutant struggled to convey their currently angelic intentions and complete obedience to Erik through only the medium of perfect posture. That lasted until Pyro poked Juggernaut unseen by Mystique or Magneto. Then they returned to their normal slacker postures and customary chatter, which was now a strange mix of holiday excitement and tactical theory.
They inspected every tree with care; it had to be perfect. Every so often, someone would point out a tree they liked, but Erik shot them down. He claimed that only a perfectly shaped, unnaturally green, and absolutely healthy tree was acceptable. Every tree they saw was lopsided, pale, and sickly in his opinion. Callisto began to mutter, “Why is he suddenly this great tree expert? They all look fine to me. Just pick one, and let’s go.” They others silently nodded in agreement. But Magneto would not be swayed. They would find the perfect tree or die trying.
In fact, it almost came to that. Hours came and went, the sun rose high in the sky, and yet, there they were: still there. The cold had begun to take its effect on the little band. Pyro seemed to be taking it the worst. He was shivering quite badly and complaining loudly. He was not a winter person. Erik had chivalrously draped his cloak over Mystique’s shoulders. She hadn’t said anything, but he knew she was just putting a brave face on for Callisto and himself. Then finally, there it was straight ahead. A tree that even Erik couldn’t object to.
There was no way that Erik was cutting down that tree. If it wasn’t made of metal, he just wasn’t interested….but who to trust with the saw? The lot fell to Archlight and she complained bitterly about spoiling her fishnet tights and skirt, but when Erik glared at her she got right to work and cut it down without too much trouble. Then came the long dragging trudge to get the tree back and into the plane. The whole way back Archlight moaned that the sap wouldn’t come off her hands.
The plane at last came into view and they all but ran to meet it and get into the warm, dry interior. Fitting the tree in made the cabin a little cramped, but they managed. Back at home; Magneto carefully re-crafted every ornament that had been on the tree. Deciding it was better to record the apology, rather than go in person, he pulled out the video camera. It was difficult to get everyone to sit close enough together to fit on the screen. Getting them to sing in unison was almost impossible. It had been Mystique’s call to make the apology in the tune of a Christmas carol. It went something like this:
Sorry We Stole Your Tree- to the tune of Jingle Bells
Sorry we stole your tree
We watched you having fun
You had a place to place your gifts.
And sadly we had none.
Oh, sorry, sorry, sorry
Sorry, sorry, sorry
We burned it to the ground
It was an accident, I swear
Please don’t be angry. HEY.
Here ‘s a brand new tree
With all apology
We humbly place it your feet
And beg you take it in.
Oh, sorry, sorry, sorry
Sorry, sorry, sorry
We burned it to the ground
It was an accident, I swear
Please don’t be angry. HEY.
Perhaps they should have rethought this. But when the Mansion received it they laughed for hours. So maybe that was a good thing. Magneto took it over personally because minions don’t always do the job right or even at all. Mystique, meanwhile took the group to Wal-Mart, where they bought a green plastic tree and splurged on gifts that ranged from the ordinary to the bizarre even by their standards, but that is a story for another day.
Christmas cookies, on the other hand, are a completely different matter. It was an unforeseen disaster waiting to happen, and happen it did.
Mystique took charge and arranged the ingredients and the recipe on the counter and called in the troops. They ran, tripping over each other to be involved. Mystique put Pyro in charge of measuring the ingredients. He would hand the measured substance to Archlight who would happily dump it in. Juggernaut mixed the dough and Callisto broke the eggs. In this way, the dough came out quite well.
That’s where it got a little unorthodox. First off, they refused to use cookie cutters. They absolutely insisted that it quashed their creativity and violated their artistic vision. Mystique threw her hands up at such an odd request thinking, “What harm can it do?” Well, she was about to find out.
She pulled out the sprinkles and the candies and the icing and set them on the counter. She portioned out dough to everyone, along with rolling pins and flour.
Juggernaut began making a three dimensional snowman. When Mystique cautioned that perhaps it wouldn’t cook. Juggernaut crossed his arms and patiently explained to her that he liked dough anyway and that she was not the one to be judging his creative genius because she was not making a cookie, which clearly meant that she was incapable of any sort of artistry, clearly ignoring the fact that every form she took was art mimicking life.
She had to admit though that the snowman was well done. He had made a top hat out of icing and buttons out of M&Ms, the nose was a kernel of candy corn, and the face was made out of chocolate chips. The scarf in particular was very nice. It had been made out of different colors of licorice twisted together and had been molded to look as if the wind were blowing.
She moved on to Pyro, who had made circles and put chocolate chips in them. Biting her tongue, she refrained from mentioning that this was not original nor was it holiday themed. What good would it do? Besides, he had already baked them with his power. She snagged a few to give to Erik later.
Callisto had rolled out the dough and molded it into a perfect replica of Erik’s face. Mystique “accidentally” dropped a heavy bowl on it. Thereby, irreparably ruining it, or so she was told. Callisto then switched to making cookies in various abstract shapes and covering them with powdered silver sprinkles to make them look like shards of metal. Giving up, Mystique moved on to Toad.
He had put mango in the blender to make a dye to brush on his cookies, which turned out to be like a gourmet version of Christmas cookies. Mystique stole a few when his back was turned. Just then, he turned the blender on again and left the top off. The entire kitchen got splattered.
Archlight had done nothing with her dough and began throwing it at her teammates. They flung it back and it denigrated into a dough war of massive proportions. The snowman was mercifully saved by a protecting armor of upturned Tupperware. This prevented the obvious result of Juggernaut crying all night, for which Mystique was very thankful. The kitchen was sticky and covered in cookie toppings of all kinds.
Mystique shooed off all the Brotherhood members, packed up the surviving cookies, and cleaned up the kitchen, which took hours.
When ten o’clock came around she had just finished. She was sticky, exhausted, and ready to strangle Erik for letting them make cookies and leaving her in charge of this apparently destructive activity.
She stalked into their shared bedroom, ready to yell at him for a half an hour straight. But she found him reading peacefully, and all her anger melted away. She crawled onto the bed and curled up next to him.
“Might I inquire as to why you are sticky and covered in cookie dough?” Mystique’s only response was to hand him the cookies she had put away for him earlier and responded in a deadpan voice, “Minions.”
“Oh, “ realizing the hell she had just been put through, he graciously accepted the offering of cookies.
She watched him eat for a while and then sat up, running her hands up and down her arms and bemoaning her sticky state. “ I’m all covered in cookie dough. How did they manage to get that dough on the ceiling? I had to clean upside down on the ceiling.”
Erik put his arm around her, comforting her as best he could.
“ Don’t, I’ll get cookie dough all over you too.” She turned toward him and he saw that she had cookie dough smudged on her cheek. And his heart went out to her she looked so forlorn and sad, almost like a little girl again. That face and the dough on her cheek just broke his heart. This one image reminded him of everything he loved about her. She had such a myriad of personalities, but he loved it when she was vulnerable, when she really dropped all her barriers of bravado and just let him in. When he could just take care of her, and make everything all right, when he could do what he couldn’t do for the world they lived in.
“I like cookie dough,” he said playfully. She shrugged him off at the joke. But he wasn’t joking. He pulled on her hand, and she turned around to face him. He cupped her cheek in his hand and leaned forward to lick the dough off her face.
She giggled, but it wasn’t a joke. He gently laid her back and straddled her hips. He then proceeded to lick all the dough off her body, inch by inch. He was very thorough and even managed to cover some areas that weren’t covered in cookie dough. Then he captured her face in a gentle, loving kiss. She arched up toward him. Then, she pulled his head down to her mouth and whispered in his ear, “I’m glad you like cookie dough.”
AN: Somebody jump in with the presents and gifts! I can’t wait to see what you do and where you take the story. Good Luck and Happy Holidays!
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but I made up the song.
Hey, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I enjoyed writing it. Please comment. I apoligize in advance for only limited dialogue. I don't use it often.
The morning dawned frigid and frosty, much to the displeasure of the Brotherhood. You would not believe the protests that emerged from such a hardened terrorist cell at having to get out of bed onto a cold floor in the wee hours of the morning. So it was with only with loud grumbling and bursts of sporadic cursing, that they bundled themselves onto their personal plane and off to the great Canadian wilderness in pursuit of the infamous and elusive creature known as the perfect Christmas tree.
The plane ride held the uncomfortable angry silence of last night with the oh so unwelcome addition of seething resentment. Needless to say, the entire ride was tantamount to torture. The cold gray morning light greeted them as they touched down in the middle of a pine forest. Surely, their odds of replacing the stupid tree and returning home for lunch were good, if only because of the sheer quantity and abundance of the prickly green trees.
Magneto stepped out and true to form explained the situation with his usual style and flair for the dramatic, consequently breaking the enforced silence. “ Our calling this winter morning is to replace the Christmas tree we took without permission and then proceeded to destroy, nay, vaporize. We are to find a tree of equal or greater magnificence, cut it down without hurting ourselves, decorate it, and deliver it personally along with a sincere verbal apology. We will not be getting a tree for ourselves; we are not tree people. You have already proved that you are too inept to handle a live tree. We will be buying a plastic one at Wal-Mart. Then, if you can mange that, you may have access to the kitchen and be allowed to carry on your senseless frivolity with the making of holiday cookies. If any of you misbehaves, I will be forced to revoke this privilege. Any questions?” The sound of silence could be heard as every holiday minded Brotherhood mutant struggled to convey their currently angelic intentions and complete obedience to Erik through only the medium of perfect posture. That lasted until Pyro poked Juggernaut unseen by Mystique or Magneto. Then they returned to their normal slacker postures and customary chatter, which was now a strange mix of holiday excitement and tactical theory.
They inspected every tree with care; it had to be perfect. Every so often, someone would point out a tree they liked, but Erik shot them down. He claimed that only a perfectly shaped, unnaturally green, and absolutely healthy tree was acceptable. Every tree they saw was lopsided, pale, and sickly in his opinion. Callisto began to mutter, “Why is he suddenly this great tree expert? They all look fine to me. Just pick one, and let’s go.” They others silently nodded in agreement. But Magneto would not be swayed. They would find the perfect tree or die trying.
In fact, it almost came to that. Hours came and went, the sun rose high in the sky, and yet, there they were: still there. The cold had begun to take its effect on the little band. Pyro seemed to be taking it the worst. He was shivering quite badly and complaining loudly. He was not a winter person. Erik had chivalrously draped his cloak over Mystique’s shoulders. She hadn’t said anything, but he knew she was just putting a brave face on for Callisto and himself. Then finally, there it was straight ahead. A tree that even Erik couldn’t object to.
There was no way that Erik was cutting down that tree. If it wasn’t made of metal, he just wasn’t interested….but who to trust with the saw? The lot fell to Archlight and she complained bitterly about spoiling her fishnet tights and skirt, but when Erik glared at her she got right to work and cut it down without too much trouble. Then came the long dragging trudge to get the tree back and into the plane. The whole way back Archlight moaned that the sap wouldn’t come off her hands.
The plane at last came into view and they all but ran to meet it and get into the warm, dry interior. Fitting the tree in made the cabin a little cramped, but they managed. Back at home; Magneto carefully re-crafted every ornament that had been on the tree. Deciding it was better to record the apology, rather than go in person, he pulled out the video camera. It was difficult to get everyone to sit close enough together to fit on the screen. Getting them to sing in unison was almost impossible. It had been Mystique’s call to make the apology in the tune of a Christmas carol. It went something like this:
Sorry We Stole Your Tree- to the tune of Jingle Bells
Sorry we stole your tree
We watched you having fun
You had a place to place your gifts.
And sadly we had none.
Oh, sorry, sorry, sorry
Sorry, sorry, sorry
We burned it to the ground
It was an accident, I swear
Please don’t be angry. HEY.
Here ‘s a brand new tree
With all apology
We humbly place it your feet
And beg you take it in.
Oh, sorry, sorry, sorry
Sorry, sorry, sorry
We burned it to the ground
It was an accident, I swear
Please don’t be angry. HEY.
Perhaps they should have rethought this. But when the Mansion received it they laughed for hours. So maybe that was a good thing. Magneto took it over personally because minions don’t always do the job right or even at all. Mystique, meanwhile took the group to Wal-Mart, where they bought a green plastic tree and splurged on gifts that ranged from the ordinary to the bizarre even by their standards, but that is a story for another day.
Christmas cookies, on the other hand, are a completely different matter. It was an unforeseen disaster waiting to happen, and happen it did.
Mystique took charge and arranged the ingredients and the recipe on the counter and called in the troops. They ran, tripping over each other to be involved. Mystique put Pyro in charge of measuring the ingredients. He would hand the measured substance to Archlight who would happily dump it in. Juggernaut mixed the dough and Callisto broke the eggs. In this way, the dough came out quite well.
That’s where it got a little unorthodox. First off, they refused to use cookie cutters. They absolutely insisted that it quashed their creativity and violated their artistic vision. Mystique threw her hands up at such an odd request thinking, “What harm can it do?” Well, she was about to find out.
She pulled out the sprinkles and the candies and the icing and set them on the counter. She portioned out dough to everyone, along with rolling pins and flour.
Juggernaut began making a three dimensional snowman. When Mystique cautioned that perhaps it wouldn’t cook. Juggernaut crossed his arms and patiently explained to her that he liked dough anyway and that she was not the one to be judging his creative genius because she was not making a cookie, which clearly meant that she was incapable of any sort of artistry, clearly ignoring the fact that every form she took was art mimicking life.
She had to admit though that the snowman was well done. He had made a top hat out of icing and buttons out of M&Ms, the nose was a kernel of candy corn, and the face was made out of chocolate chips. The scarf in particular was very nice. It had been made out of different colors of licorice twisted together and had been molded to look as if the wind were blowing.
She moved on to Pyro, who had made circles and put chocolate chips in them. Biting her tongue, she refrained from mentioning that this was not original nor was it holiday themed. What good would it do? Besides, he had already baked them with his power. She snagged a few to give to Erik later.
Callisto had rolled out the dough and molded it into a perfect replica of Erik’s face. Mystique “accidentally” dropped a heavy bowl on it. Thereby, irreparably ruining it, or so she was told. Callisto then switched to making cookies in various abstract shapes and covering them with powdered silver sprinkles to make them look like shards of metal. Giving up, Mystique moved on to Toad.
He had put mango in the blender to make a dye to brush on his cookies, which turned out to be like a gourmet version of Christmas cookies. Mystique stole a few when his back was turned. Just then, he turned the blender on again and left the top off. The entire kitchen got splattered.
Archlight had done nothing with her dough and began throwing it at her teammates. They flung it back and it denigrated into a dough war of massive proportions. The snowman was mercifully saved by a protecting armor of upturned Tupperware. This prevented the obvious result of Juggernaut crying all night, for which Mystique was very thankful. The kitchen was sticky and covered in cookie toppings of all kinds.
Mystique shooed off all the Brotherhood members, packed up the surviving cookies, and cleaned up the kitchen, which took hours.
When ten o’clock came around she had just finished. She was sticky, exhausted, and ready to strangle Erik for letting them make cookies and leaving her in charge of this apparently destructive activity.
She stalked into their shared bedroom, ready to yell at him for a half an hour straight. But she found him reading peacefully, and all her anger melted away. She crawled onto the bed and curled up next to him.
“Might I inquire as to why you are sticky and covered in cookie dough?” Mystique’s only response was to hand him the cookies she had put away for him earlier and responded in a deadpan voice, “Minions.”
“Oh, “ realizing the hell she had just been put through, he graciously accepted the offering of cookies.
She watched him eat for a while and then sat up, running her hands up and down her arms and bemoaning her sticky state. “ I’m all covered in cookie dough. How did they manage to get that dough on the ceiling? I had to clean upside down on the ceiling.”
Erik put his arm around her, comforting her as best he could.
“ Don’t, I’ll get cookie dough all over you too.” She turned toward him and he saw that she had cookie dough smudged on her cheek. And his heart went out to her she looked so forlorn and sad, almost like a little girl again. That face and the dough on her cheek just broke his heart. This one image reminded him of everything he loved about her. She had such a myriad of personalities, but he loved it when she was vulnerable, when she really dropped all her barriers of bravado and just let him in. When he could just take care of her, and make everything all right, when he could do what he couldn’t do for the world they lived in.
“I like cookie dough,” he said playfully. She shrugged him off at the joke. But he wasn’t joking. He pulled on her hand, and she turned around to face him. He cupped her cheek in his hand and leaned forward to lick the dough off her face.
She giggled, but it wasn’t a joke. He gently laid her back and straddled her hips. He then proceeded to lick all the dough off her body, inch by inch. He was very thorough and even managed to cover some areas that weren’t covered in cookie dough. Then he captured her face in a gentle, loving kiss. She arched up toward him. Then, she pulled his head down to her mouth and whispered in his ear, “I’m glad you like cookie dough.”
AN: Somebody jump in with the presents and gifts! I can’t wait to see what you do and where you take the story. Good Luck and Happy Holidays!