The Power of Suggestion “I think there’s something wrong with Creed.” Scott came into the war room and announced to the congregated people. Logan smacked his forehead with his open palm. “Wow, you must be, like, a genius er somethin’ ta’ve figured that out.” “I think he has fleas.” Scott continued, ignoring his friend’s sarcasm. Everyone stopped whatever they were doing and paused, then a loud eruption of laughter sounded through the mansion. “I’m not joking.” He said sternly. “Yeah, that’s why we’re laughing!” Bobby hollered over the ruckus. **** “So what do we do for fleas?” Jean turned to Hank outside Creed’s cage at the mansion. “Well,” Hank rubbed his blue-furred chin, “Fleas are caused by living in crowded living conditions, close contact between people and animals, or poor hygienic conditions…do any of those fit here?” “He’s as close to an animal as any man, maybe he got the fleas from himself.” Bobby suggested. “Old friend,” Hank turned to him. “I don’t mean to be rude but, get out.” “Yeah sure, no hard feelings…I just thought I’d point out that he’s dumb and ugly and stinks and stuff…y’know poor hygiene…” “Actually, contrary to popular belief, Herr Creed is quite the opposite of all those things…now Bobby, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” **** “I bought this, will it help?” Jean held a bottle of anti-flea shampoo meant for humans. Hank inspected it carefully then shrugged. “I’ve never encountered a case before such as this.” “Well it better work because it took me forever to find it!” She marched over to Creed’s cell and tossed it in between the bars. “Alright Creed, go and take a shower with this stuff quickly before you infest someone.” In response, the bottle went zinging past her red hair and into the wall behind her. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” Hank couldn’t help but laugh. **** “Logan? Can we have one of your cancer sticks?” Hank asked politely to the short man on the porch. “When did you take up smoking?” Logan raised an eyebrow. “It’s not for us, we’re trying to convince Creed of coming out and taking a bath.” Jean sighed. This furthered Logan’s eyebrow raising. “He’s the closest thing I’ve ever met to a obsessive compulsive. He’s so friggin’ clean, I’d eat offa him…y’know, if I swung that way…which I don’t.” He reassured the two. “Why would he be obsessed with being clean?” Jean inquired. “Who really likes to be dirty?” Hank retorted. “Ya don’t want yer pray smellin’ ya now do ya? ‘Sides, he likes bubble-baths…which I would know because we used to work together closely…but not that close…cuz, y’know I don’t swing that way, which I’ve already stated.” Logan added quickly. Wanting to end this odd conversation, Jean blurted out: “So can we have a cigar?” “Hell no. These are from Cuba! He’s not good enough for ‘em! Try a fudgesicle, he likes chocolate a lot too…which I know because….” “Yeah, yeah, you don’t swing that way.” **** “Come here Creed, we have a fudgesicle for you.” Jean waved the chocolate infront of the open door. Creed rolled his eyes at her and turned his back. “That’s not good.” “No, it’s not.” Logan agreed with Hank. The three were now waiting with baited breath to see if Creed would emerge to take a bath with the anti-flea shampoo. Creed on the other hand was waiting with baited breath to see how stupid the trio would act just to get him out of the cell. “Creed, why won’t you take a bath? Don’t tell me you like itching all day.” Hank pointed out. “I ain’t got fleas.” Creed grunted and lay down, quite the opposite of what they were trying to accomplish. “Then why are you scratching yourself so much.” Jean asked, then stopped to realize that Creed hadn’t scratched himself once since they’ve been down here. Hank and Logan seemed to realize this too because they had puzzled looks on their faces. “Why aren’t you scratching yourself?” “You three are as dumb as rocks, honestly.” Vic grinned over his shoulder. “Look who it’s comin’ from.” Muttered Logan. “Don’t you guys feel itchy at all? Even just a bit?” Creed turned to face them now, a coy grin on his face. “Come to think of it, I do.” Jean turned to Hank. She began to scratch her side feverantly. Apparently both of the men also found an itchy spot and proceeded to claw themselves. “Ah hell, he’s spreadin’ ‘em!” Logan growled and swiped the bottle of shampoo. “Don’t go too far with that Logan, I need some.” Hank followed him. Jean also left after turning the tazers of Creed’s cage back on. “What a bunch o’ lunatics, they think they got fleas.” Creed’s face lit up with a genuine grin. “Ah, the power o’ suggestion.” END