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~