Disclaimer: All characters in this story are property of Marvel Comics. I don’t own anything. And I certainly ain’t gettin’ paid.
Continuity: Place it wherever the heck you want, any time after Beast turned himself blue and furry.
Classification: humor, I guess (my friend said it was funny...heh...heh *cough*)
Rating: I dunno, it’s basically general. Nothin’ too nasty in my story. Maybe PG would qualify....

Army of the Night by Jesse

Bobby sat down in the kitchen and sighed. And sighed again, louder.

"Man, I am BORED," he huffed, to no one in particular, as he was completely alone in the room. "Hank’s locked up is his stupid lab again. Rich boy’s off some place. Jean and Scott are...I don’t even want to know. And now I’m talking to my self. Great."

He sighed yet again.

Slouching in his chair, his eyes casually scanned the kitchen, coming to rest on the box of toothpicks in front of him.

Inspiration struck.

Bobby grabbed the box, and made a dash for the living room.

***

BOOM!

Hank emerged from his lab; a strange smelling, multicolored gas cloud followed him.

Hmm, Hank thought as he looked back into his lab, time for a snack.

He sauntered off to the kitchen, leaving a foul and colorful trail behind him.

***

"This should just about cover it," Hank mumbled, as he snatched the remaining pizza from last night’s dinner. "I must say, I have to appreciate Bobby’s selection for dinner last night, even if it is the only suggestion he ever makes."

He added the pizza to the pile heaped on his plate, secretly thanking that neither Jean nor Scott was around to scold his eating habits. It was his stomach, if he decided to fill it with chemicals that only he could pronounce, who where they to judge.

Besides, he thought as he looked down at his fur covered arms, it can’t be any worse than some of the other things I have done to myself.

Hank grinned and headed for the living room, his plate of carefully balanced food obstructing most of his view.

***

Hank entered the living room, and proceeded to step in something cold. Cold, and wet.

"Oh, my..."

He looked down, only to see a large pile of snow spread out across the living room's floor. At it’s center was Bobby, brows furrowed in concentration, surrounded by half a dozen or so tiny snowmen.

"Robert?"

Bobby glanced up from is work to look at Hank, then resumed the delicate placement of the snowball clutched in his hands.

"Robert, what..."

"They’re my unholy army of the night." Bobby stated mater-of-factly, as he placed a toothpick in the snowman’s side.

"Uh huh..."

"I am their GOD. We shall conquer the world, and I shall rule it with a cold, icy fist." As he said this Bobby iced up is hand, shaking it in Hank’s direction.

"Oh..."

Silence filled the room. Hank shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"So...you’re taking over the world?"

"Yep."

"With tiny snowmen?"

"Yep."

"Their arms are toothpicks."

"HEY, these toothpicks could take an EYE out!" Bobby fumed, pointing at his tiny men. He stopped his work to glare up at Hank, with a frighteningly sincere expression on his face. "Do you want to help me test their effectiveness?"

Hank said nothing, and slowly backed out of the room, clutching his stack of food close.

"Finally," Bobby huffed as Hank disappeared from view, "now, back to work on Captain Frostilicus..."

THE END

...or is it?

yes, yes it is

so there

Sequel/post-script: "The Reaction"