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Summary:  The production of "The Taming of the Shrew"continues as the X-men and their students work on the set with mixed results.

Rating: PG (more perversion of Shakespeare)

Disclaimer:  The X-men belong to Brian Singer and Marvel Comics, and "The Taming of the Shrew" belongs to the God of all
playwrights.  Forsooth, I should not presume to make a profit upon EITHER masterpiece.

Scene I:  Show me the cookie!

"Okay, guys, take five!" Scott Summers announced over thebedlum of hammers, drills, and assorted crashes.

Loud whoops erupted and the noise got even louder as several dozen teenagers thundered off the half-finished set.  "Mr. Summers,
John blew out the last lightbulb!"

"Mr. Summers, Bobby froze half of the paper mache!"

"Yeah, well you set the other half on fire, Jube!"

"I was trying to get your attention—"

"HEY!!" Scott yelled over the racket, "Save it for afterthe break.  Now go get some food and quit your bickering."

"Anyone else would've said `bitching,'" Johnwhispered to Rogue as they ran down to the kitchen.

Scott sat down with a thud in the nearest chair, grinning to himself.  Storm poked her head around the doorway, "I just saw aherd
of elephants coming down the hall."

"Saw or heard?"

"Both.  This your first break all day?"

"God help me, I'd be less tired after a mission," Helaughed and shook his head, "They're running me ragged."

"I guess you're just letting them decide what they want to do?" she asked, indicating the half-finished paper mache lumps, plywood
scattered all over the room, and the huge bolt of cloth being converted into a curtain for the dressing room next door.  The Professor had been all-too-delighted to convert two adjoining rooms in the mansion into the set and dressing room for the play.

"Well, that would make sense.  They don't learn anything unless they do it themselves.  I'm just keeping them from killing each other
or  turning the play into a burlesque." Storm laughed and he added, "Besides, Jubilee got a book on set-building and started rattling
off all sorts of things about flats, scrims, and light bridges. They're doing just fine."

Storm laughed harder, but asked curiously, "So what is a scrim?"

He shrugged, "You got me.  Fortunately, they decided not to use one."

"But they are using flats and light bridges?"

"No, just the flats.  Light bridges are expensive."

"And you have no idea what either of them is, do you."

"Nope.  But I'm beginning to think Jubilee wants to hang me from the  ceiling and use me as a spotlight."

"There's a thought."

The temporary peace and quiet was shattered once again as the door to  the room flew open with a loud crash and the entire cast and crew  poured back in.  Armed with every variety of junk food known to man, the kids shoved aside the chairs and settled in a rough circle on the floor.  "I thought you were going to eat in the kitchen,"Scott said.

"Well, we were, but we decided to have a meeting about the set and costumes.  And you're here, so we had to do it here," Kitty
replied,  all logic.

"Lucky me." Scott surveyed their snacks, "There's not a single thing  here that even fits into a food group!"

"Just because you eat boring and conservative doesn't mean we have  to," Jubilee replied around a mouthful of gummy worms.

"Jube, that kind of candy could survive a nuclear strike."

"Well, there's an upside then."

Scott rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses.  Storm could always tell  by the way his eyebrows moved, "You're doing it again."

"Stop staring at my forehead.  Next time I do the shopping."

"Hey!  Mr. Summers!  We've got milk.   Dairy, see?" Bobby held up a jug.

"Bobby, what the hell did you bring milk for?"  Kitty demanded in  disgust.

"It's for the Oreos!"

"Oh, that's okay, I guess,"  Kitty replied, "Pour me a glass and pass  me a cookie—John, you can't have a third until the rest of us
get  one!"

"Mmph!" was the snappy comeback.

Storm was laughing behind her hand, "At least Kitty's not to the  point where she's refusing to act unless we get her her favorite
cream soda."

"No, she's not that deep into the prima donna thing.  Not yet  anyway," Scott said.

"So what else are you planning to do with the set?" she asked.

"We need a flat!" Jubilee was saying, "In front of the door where we  go off stage!"

"There's your answer," Scott said.

"It can be the entrance of Baptista's house.  That way everyone can  exit as if they're going inside," Bobby agreed.

"In fact, we should make two.  One for Baptista's house, and one for  Petruchio's house during Act Two," Kitty suggested, dunking
her Oreo.

"We could just alter the one we have so it can be both—but all the  scenes for Petruchio's house are indoors." Jubilee frowned,
"I guess  it would have to be the inside door."

"Yeah, that makes sense—Hey!  Pass me one of those cookies." Bobby  reached across Jubilee to grab the Oreos from Kitty.

"I guess they really do have this thing in hand," Storm observed,  sounding impressed.

"Yeah," Scott said absently.

"Maybe now's a good time to ask them what a flat is—and I see you  eyeing those cookies!" she said in an accusing tone.

"Huh? What?" Scott jerked his gaze back to her, "I wasn't, I just got  distracted."

"Yeah, by those cookies!" she taunted him.

"Look, Oreo—I mean, Ororo, aw hell!" Scott slapped himself on the  forehead, aware that he'd given himself away.

Storm burst out laughing, "You're far too repressed, Scott." Turning  to the kids, she pointed at him and ordered, "Get that man a
cookie!"

"Huh?" was the collective answer.

Jubilee recovered her directorial role, "You heard the woman, give  him a cookie!"

"I don't need a cookie!" Scott protested, but he was starting to grin.

Rogue scrambled to her feet and presented him with an Oreo and a  glass of milk with a great flourish, "Your cookie, Mr. Director."

"Thanks."  Scott gave in to his craving and pulled his chair over to  the circle, "So what's a flat?"

They were deep in the discussion (and even deeper into the box of  Oreos) when Logan wandered in.  He took in the scene before him and  smirked, "Aw, Cyke, I always knew you were a milk-and-cookies kind of  guy."

Scene II: Shoes, Screws, and Glue, oh my!

"No, absolutely not."

"But Mr. Summers…"

"Bobby, it's out of the question."

"Aw, come on!"

"We are NOT renting a mule for the wedding scene!"

"But it would be SO awesome!"

Scott sighed, "Bobby, first of all, I don't know where to get a mule.  Second of all, it would have to be housebroken.  And finally, what am I supposed to tell the Professor when he sees a mule walking down the hallway?"

"Uh, it's a new student?"  Cyclops raised his eyebrows,and Bobby said desparately, "You know, with morphing abilities…okay,
that's a stretch."

"A stretch?  Bobby, I think there's a drill over there with your name  on it."

"But Mr. Summers…" Scott just glared at him.  Bobby shrunk away and  glanced over his shoulder, "You're right!  That is my drill!
Going!  Going now!"

Scott turned around and saw Jean leaning against the wall, her face  red and her hand over her mouth to hide the fact that she was
laughing hysterically.  "They've been going on and on about renting a  mule ever since they started blocking the wedding scene."

"Why not just use one of our horses?" Jean asked playfully.

"Don't give `em any ideas."

"Besides," Bobby piped up, "the doorway's too small!  We tried it!"

"Bobby!" Kitty exclaimed in outrage, "You weren't supposed to tell  him!"

"Oops!"

Jean was laughing harder still.  Scott didn't even bother to turn  around, although he looked like he wanted to thud his head against the wall.  "The life of a director is so trying, isn't it?" she  teased.

"Oh, hush."

"Mr. Summers, what do you think of this costume?" Kitty's voice came  from behind him.

Scott turned around.  Behind him, Jean muttered, "What the…"

John was standing on top of a stool, wearing a makeshift doublet,  tights, pointy shoes, and a stick-on gray beard.  "I say
potbelly,"  Kitty said thoughtfully, eyeing the costume like a professional  designer, "He says no potbelly.  What do you think?"

Jubilee walked into the room just then with Logan in tow, "I think he  looks like a cross between Santa and one of his elves, and the
potbelly's only gonna make it worse.  But, that's just my opinion;  I'm certain your distinguished director knows best," Logan
declared.

Scott slowly turned toward the door, "I dunno, try the potbelly on  Logan and then I'll tell you what I think."

Jubilee sighed, "Mr. Summers," she said, sounding disturbingly like a  scolding teacher, "Would you PLEASE concentrate on the subject at  hand?"

Logan recoiled from her, "My God, Cyke, she's starting to sound like  you!  But no," he shook his head and grinned, "Even you
wouldn't have  said, `We need help; get your ass in here,' now, would you?"

Perfectly deadpan, Scott replied, "No, I'd have said, `We need help;  get your sorry ass in here.'"

All activity in the immediate vicinity ceased.  Bobby dropped his  drill.  Kitty leaned over to John, gaping, "Did he just…"

"He did!"

"Somebody, kill me now, I've seen it all!"

"Advantage Cyclops!" Rogue shouted, pumping her fist in the air.  Scott turned as if about to scold her and grinned instead.

Jubilee managed to pull herself together and shouted, "Okay,show's  over, everybody get back to work!" She pulled Logan onto the set by  the sleeve of his jacket and promptly put him to work cutting plywood  for the outside of Baptista's house with his claws.

John sat down on the stool and put his head in his hand, "Oh, jeez.   Well, at least I'm not working on set," he added as Bobby
bent yet  another screw.

"No, but you are working on costumes!  Now get back up there!" Kitty  ordered.

"Help!"

"Oh, and Kitty?" Scott added sternly.

"Yes?"

"Go with the potbelly."

Kitty grinned and saluted, "Yes sir, Mr. Director, sir!"

John gazed at the doublet with a critical eye, "Do you really think  this is my color?"

Kitty stepped back and frowned, "We could always switch yours and  Sam's, but you won't fit in his shoes."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Then the shoes won't match!"

"Too small or too big?" Rogue asked, climbing up a ladder to screw a  lightbulb into the ceiling.

"Too big," Kitty murmured, staring at the shoes as if trying to make them shrink.

Rogue sat on the top rung thoughtfully, "Stuff Sam's with tissue  paper and then John can wear `em."

"What about Sam?"

"Use a shoe horn!"

"A what?"

"Just trust me," she said, then resumed her work.

John threw up his hands, causing Kitty to make a growling noise at  him and pull his arm back down to add a ruffle to the sleeve,
"Why  don't we just rename this thing `The Taming of the Shoes!'"

"More like `The Taming of the Screw,'" Bobby groaned and his drill  slipped, adding an unexpected hole to part of the flat.

"I vote for `The Taming of the Glue!'" Jubilee suggested, her hands  all sticky with paper mache.

"My money's on `The Taming of the Crew,'" Scott murmured in Jean's  ear as they watched.

"Get up there and direct," she said playfully.

"They're doing just fine without me."

"Hey, Rogue!" Sam shouted up to Rogue on her ladder, "How many X-men  does it take to screw in a—"

"Shut up!"

Scott glanced back at Jean, "On second thought, maybe they could use a hand."
FIN