Disclaimer: Obviously I own nothing. Iceman, and all other X-Men, belong to Marvel Comics. They haven’t given me permission to use their characters: but I have anyway. I write because I love…and have too much free time on my hands. I already have a substantial student debt, so suing me would accomplish nothing.

A/N: This piece of crap is the sequel my lame story "A Fun Place to Visit (but I wouldn’t want to live there)".

Feedback: terrifies me…my email is dbfreak_mae@hotmail.com

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"Every Story Needs a Sequel (even the bad ones)" by Jesse

 

Jubilation Lee was not having a good day.

She had been shopping earlier that afternoon. Normally, that was a good thing. Normally.

Jubilee’s first letdown of the day happened at her favourite clothing store. She found the most beautiful, cute, and all around perfect dress—but they didn’t have it in her size. Fine.

Heading over to the department store (to pick up some "essentials"), a woman cut in front of her in line at the cash. A woman with about fifty different items who proceeded to argue with the cashier over the sale prices. Slightly annoying.

Later, she missed her bus. Irritating.

And then she’d run out of gum. Tragic.

Finally home, Jubilee plopped herself in front of her computer. If shopping wasn’t going to cheer her up, then email and stupid Internet cartoons would. Especially if he emailed me she giggled to herself. "He" referred to a stunningly attractive young man she had run into during one of her recent trips to the local music store: she had "accidentally" bumped into him while browsing through a pile of discount CD’s. Common musical interests were discovered. Email addresses were exchanged. A successful shopping experience was had by all.

Opening her email account was yet another letdown in Jubilee's already bad day. It was full. But there were no precious emails from attractive and musically inclined young men. Only six very large emails from a certain "Captain_Frostilicus": emails that contained various embarrassing photos of Jubilee, computer enhanced and enlarged, and sent to every single person on both of her, and the sender’s, contact lists. Not only had Captain_Frostilicus embarrassed her, but his emails had taken up valuable space in her inbox. Space that could have been used by the emails of attractive, musically inclined young men. Jubilation Lee had reached her breaking point. "DAMN YOU SLUSHBALL!"

***

Dr. Henry McCoy was not having a good week.

After the disastrous destruction of his Twinkie experiment (a tragedy that could set his snack producing abilities back weeks) he had spent the better part of the last week trying to peace together the fragile emotional remnants of a certain Robert Drake. Bobby was still clearly in shock from the trauma he had experienced, accidentally viewing certain adult-oriented fan fiction.

Hank had tried a Star Wars marathon to little avail; though metal-bikini clad Leia did manage to lighten Bobby’s mood for a brief period, he remained jumpy and prone to emotional outbursts.

After the failure of Star Wars Hank opted for a different approach, and tried to engage his friend in some friendly prank wars. The pranks seemed to work for a time: they exposed Scott Summers’ Backstreet Boy obsession to the mansion residents, and succeeded in dyeing Warren Worthington’s wings a healthy hot pink. But the mere mention of "Logan" or "pool" brought fresh terror to Bobby’s eyes, and the smell of smoke sent him running for the hills.

Tired and frustrated after a week’s worth of failed efforts, Hank had finally asked Jean to erase the whole debacle from their friend’s mind: and much to his relief, she had readily complied.

Now free to leave Bobby to his own devices, Hank was finally able to redirect his energies towards his snack-related pursuits. Unfortunately, his peace of mind was not to last…

***

Robert Drake was having a great day.

Though he wasn’t sure exactly why. Jean had wanted to see him about…something. He had just left her room, in fact. Oh well, he mused, if I can’t remember, it couldn’t have been important. Whistling to himself, Bobby sauntered down to the common room. It was late Saturday afternoon, The Simpsons was on…

***

As Bobby neared the common room he was struck by an unusual noise: giggling. Lots of giggling. Giggling of a largely female nature.

Something wasn’t right.

Stepping cautiously into the room, he saw a large group of students, mostly female, huddled around someone. Someone with dark hair and a familiar voice…

"…that’s right people! Action! Romance! Steamy X-rated scenes of passion! All staring some very familiar faces!" Jubilee shouted, handing out large bundles of paper to every hand within reach. "Why, Bobby, what a wonderful surprise," she exclaimed, seeing Bobby enter the room.

"Jubes…" Something definitely wasn’t right here. Bobby could sense it. "Whatcha doin’?"

"Oh, you know…not much really…just found this wonderful story on the net the other day," as she said this she shoved one of the bundles into Bobby’s hand, "thought everyone might enjoy it."

Jubilee looked up at Captain_Frostilicus with a grin of unsuppressed triumph. Hesitantly, Bobby looked down at the papers in his hands: "A Day of Fun by Snickt". Bobby’s mind reeled as everything that had happened over the past week came flooding back. He felt cold (quite an accomplishment, all considered). He looked around desperately. All those students, reading papers…giggling…staring.

Shaking, Bobby looked at Jubilee, who simply grinned and pointed. The story was everywhere. Jubilee had posted the story on the bulletin boards, taped it on the walls, and left bound copies on tables and chairs. She had been quite thorough.

"Thought you could embarrass me with pictures, did you Frosty? Flood my inbox when I’m expecting important emails? I gotcha good this time! I’ve made hundreds of copies of that story. I’ve put them everywhere! You’ll never find them all," the young woman crowed with triumph, while doing an elaborate victory dance around her victim. "Oh yeah, no one messes with Jubilation Lee!"

"Oh. My. God. HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANK!"

***

Hank was making excellent progress. He had managed to gather a large amount of Twinkie filling (without eating too much this time), and placed it in his beaker (surrounded by carefully placed cushions and bubble wrap). Just as he was beginning his analysis of its chemical goodness, he heard the scream.

Sighing inwardly, Hank left his lab.

***

As Hank walked into the common room, an unusual sight greeted him. There were bundles of papers lying everywhere. Small groups of students were standing together: some blushing, others giggling. And in the middle of everything was a stunned Bobby Drake, standing with a look of absolute horror frozen on his face, while a gleeful Jubilee danced around him.

Not good, he groaned inwardly. Hank knew, without looking at the papers, what they were. During all the time he had spent trying to cheer Bobby up, he had neglected the source of his friend’s terror: Dr. McCoy had forgot to rid the virtual world of Snickt’s ‘imaginative’ piece of fiction.

Looking into Bobby’s eyes, Hank knew his job wasn’t going to be easy. Bobby looked like a deer caught in headlights: a deer on the verge of a monumental emotional breakdown. I better clear a few weeks off of my calendar.

Beast moved slowly towards his friend, collecting papers with each step. In between his sympathetic glances to Bobby, and stony glares directed at Jubilee, Hank managed to collect most of the papers scattered across the floor. Just as he was about to begin an enlightening lecture about the ethics of pranks, the evils of certain fan fiction, and ‘lines that should not be crossed’ Hank was interrupted by a most unwanted voice—

"What the hell is going on in here?"

Oh, Shi

Hank froze. Jubilee paled. Bobby made a small choking sound, and looked faint.

Casting an annoyed glance around the room, the X-Man known as Wolverine, a.k.a. Logan, grabbed one of the remaining paper bundles from the floor, as wiser students slowly inched their way towards the nearest exits. "What is this—‘A Day of Fun…’"

The screams of rage and terror could be heard miles away.

Epilogue