Summary: The X-men observe a rehearsal of "The Taming of the Shrew."
Rating: PG (perversion of Shakespeare)
Disclaimer: The X-men
belong to Brian Singer and Marvel, and "The Taming of the Shrew"
belongs to the Bard himself. If he sues me, we've got a problem.
Summertime in New York State
is said to be paradise, and to his surprise, Logan believed it.
He'd returned to Xavier's School for
Gifted Youngsters after
being gone for nearly a year, and discovered that the place had really
gotten under his skin. Sitting on a bench outside on a mild Saturday
afternoon, the most restless of the X-men found himself appreciating peace
and quiet as he never had before.
"We run the school like a
camp during the summer," Jean Grey had explained to him when he noticed
the lack of regular classes, "It gives the kids and their teachers," she
cocked her head and grinned at him, "a chance to sit back and relax
for a few months. They
get to participate
in fun activities instead of school classes, and we all have a good time.
You should try helping out with some,"
she'd told him earnestly,
"Maybe eventually you could teach one of your own."
Logan snorted at the idea. What kind of fun activity could he teach these kids? Drinking, smoking, or bar fighting? He glanced across a green to where Jean and her fiance, Scott Summers, were refereeing a soccer match among the students. Jean hadn't been the only one to invite him to join in; Rogue had made an appeal to him too. He had jokingly brushed it off, but the truth was, he'd been rather pleased that she still wanted him around.
At the moment, Rogue was goalie for the Blue Team, and doing a pretty good job of it, for that matter. After intercepting a kick from John Allerdyce, she glanced at Logan, and he made a clapping motion. She grinned like the sun coming out and turned back to the game with additional gusto. Logan continued watching until she repelled a final penalty kick, won the game, and both teams headed back inside to the showers. The lighthearted mood was catching and Logan had to laugh; even Cyclops seemed to be letting loose. At Scott's suggestion, two of the Blue Team boys carried Rogue back to the mansion on their shoulders, clad safely as she was in sweats, gloves, and goalie gear.
With the game over, Logan
was walking along the edge of the woods surrounding the mansion when
more crashes, playful shouts, and children's laughter struck his
ears. A party of kids on horseback came off one of the riding
trails at a full gallop, with Ororo Monroe in the lead. Logan
ambled after them towards the stables. They'd finished packing up their
gear and feeding the horses by
the time Logan reached
the stables, and he reached the door as a flood of kids came pouring
out on their way to their next activity. "Hi Logan!" "How ya doin',
Logan?" "`Scuse us, Logan!" "Hey Logan!" "What's
up, Logan?"
"Hey, kids." He replied
to the group as whole, then walked inside. Storm was still
there, trying with limited success to shove huge sack of horse feed
onto a shelf above her head. Without thinking, he hurried up
behind her, "Here, let me get that before you hurt
yourself."
She laughed and moved aside,
brushing the straw off her riding clothes, "Thanks." When he'd
pushed the bag into place,
she asked, "What have you
been doing all day?"
"I just saw Rogue win a soccer
match and this morning I watched the kids rehearsing that Shakespeare play."
Logan snorted, "Did
Cyclops pick that one out?"
She gave him a reproving
look, "Actually, the students did. `The Taming of the Shrew'
is a comedy, and they've been wanting to
perform it since they
read it in Scott's class last year." She smiled, obviously in too good
a mood to let him annoy her, "And we're
having just as much
fun helping them put on a play as they are, so I'm planning on learning
to teach theater too."
"What's next? `Bye Bye Birdie?'" he teased.
"Actually, Scott kept pushing `Hamlet.'"
"I could see him as a Great Dane."
"He's directing, not acting," she said good-naturedly as they walked back into the mansion where lunch had just been served, (grilled hamburgers and hot dogs.) Logan and Storm pushed their way through a group of students arguing over whether this lunch constituted a real southern-style barbecue and grabbed some food. An impromptu rehearsal of "The Taming of the Shrew" had begun in the lounge. "`If I be waspish, best beware my sting!'" Kitty Pryde was playing Kate.
"`My remedy then, is to pluck it out!'" Bobby Drake was getting very comfortable in the role of Petruchio, and Jubilation Lee was acting as prompter.
Storm and Logan pulled up
chairs in a less noisy part of the lounge, "Logan, you've been back for
almost three weeks now, so why
don't you try to join
in? You were willing enough to fight with us to help Rogue."
"Fighting is something I know how to do. Can you see me directing a play or giving tennis lessons?"
"Sometimes there's a great
benefit of learning alongside your students. I've been teaching
piano to some of them and I'm
only a few lessons
ahead of them. Scott doesn't know the first thing about directing
a play, but the kids are just as eager to learn as he is."
She gestured to the front of the room.
"`Aye, if the fool could find it where it lies!'" Kitty was saying.
"`Who knows not where a wasp does—'"
"Doth, Bobby, doth!"
"Thanks, Jube. `Who knows
not where a wasp doth wear his sting, in his TAIL!'" With that line, Bobby
reached out and solidly
grabbed his leading lady's
backside, causing Kitty to break character and yelp in outrage.
Hoots and squeals rang out,
and instead of giving Bobby a lecture, (as Logan would've expected)
Cyclops simply said, "Bobby, the
earlier line was `pluck'
not grope."
"Sorry, `In his tail!'" He settled for a simple pinch.
Storm laughed, and Logan fought the temptation to yell, "I liked it better the other way!"
"You should have heard them
when they first got that script," Storm murmured, "They kept tripping
over all the thee's,
thou's, doth's, and
wouldst's."
"Wouldst's? Sounds like something you throw on a fire."
"Wise guy."
Kitty had turned to where Scott was sitting in the informal audience. "Are we to the part where I get to hit him yet?"
Scott laughed, "Almost. Can you stand to wait a few more lines?"
"Bring it on!"
"Oh, man, I'm so dead!"
"Shut up and act, Bobby!"
"It's your line, Kitten—Hey, why is someone named Kitty playing Kate?"
"`In his tongue!'" Kitty said pointedly.
"What?"
"Line, Popsicle!" Jubilee commanded.
"She's starting to sound like Scott," Storm whispered.
"Scott wouldn't call him `Popsicle.'" Logan chuckled back.
In the mean time, Bobby had found his place, "`Whose tongue?'"
"`Yours, and with that, farewell!'"
"`What, with my tongue in your tail?'"
Jubilee started and flipped through the script. "Whoa! I didn't know Shakespeare was such a perv!"
"Move on!" Scott said sternly.
"`Now, good Kate, I am a gentleman!'"
"Yeah, right!" John yelled from the back of the room.
"No heckling, back there!" Scott yelled over his shoulder, "Say the line again, Bobby."
"`Now, good Kate, I am a gentleman!'"
"`THAT I'll try!'" Kitty slapped her hands together next to Bobby's cheek.
Bobby blinked, "Kitty, you're supposed to slap me!"
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You did a minute ago!"
"I'm over it."
"Slap him, Kitty." Scott ordered.
"What?"
"SLAP him!"
Squeamishly, Kitty sort of patted Bobby's cheek. "Did a fly just land on me or is there a breeze?" he drawled.
"I don't want to hurt you!"
Scott threw up his hands in mock-exasperation, "Bobby, slap Kitty."
"Wha?"
"Slap Kitty!"
"Gotcha." Bobby fetched Kitty a good hard swat across the cheeks.
Logan leaned over to Storm, "This ought to be good."
"Now," Scott said with great satisfaction, "Kitty, slap Bobby."
POW!!! Bobby staggered back several feet before falling on his rump. Kitty clapped both hands over her mouth, "Oh my…"
Bobby sat on the ground, shaking his head, "My ears are ringing! I think you left a bruise!"
"Hey, Bobby, that looks bad!" John crowed, "You need some ICE for that?"
"Hardy har har!"
"Okay, enough comments from
the peanut gallery! That's enough rehearsal for today until
Bobby recovers." Scott took the script
from Jubilee and leafed
through it, muttering to Jean, "I forgot about that `tongue in tail'
line."
"Hey, don't stop now, you're on a roll!" Logan called to the front.
"Oh, in that case," Kitty yanked Bobby to his feet and retook her place.
"I think that's enough today, Kit—"
"Come ON, Mr. Summers, the audience has spoken!"
"God help us, she's turned
into a diva." Jean remarked, but said, "Let `em do it, Scott, they've
been bitten by the showbiz
bug."
Scott gave in and gave the script back to Jubilee, "Madame Prompter."
"What, I'm not assistant director?"
"Don't push your luck. You've gotta work a lot harder than that, Jubes," He teased.
"Aw! Okay, Petruchio, it's your line!"
"Hang on…okay, I got it.
`I swear I'll cuff you if you strike again.'" Bobby grabbed
Kitty's arm violently and jerked her
toward him, winding
up nose to nose with her.
She lifted her chin and smirked,
"`If you strike, then you are no
gentleman!'"
"That's what I was trying to tell ya!" John shouted gleefully.
Jubilee calmly got up and walked to the back of the lounge where John was sitting on the floor. Standing squarely in front of him, she pointed her arm imperiously towards the door and ordered, "Out."
"Aw, come on, Jube—"
"OUT!!"
"But Jube—" She raised
the script as though threatening to backhand him with it, and he
leaped to his feet, "I'm going, I'm
going!"
John fled and Jubilee walked
back to her post amid thunderous applause by the rest of the cast.
As she sat back down next to the
actors, Scott declared,
"Now you're assistant director."
"Yesss!"
~Fin~