The Miss X-Universe Pageant
by
Albertina
A short, greenish-gray, heinously ugly mutant known as Gargoyole squats on top of the X-mansion. He grins, chuckles to himself, and claps his little clawed paws together in maniacal glee. This is not the most powerful of mutants, not by a long shot. Of all the evil mutants that have crashed the party at the X-mansion over the years, this is not one to strike fear into the hearts of our team of fearless heroes. What he has going for him is an enormous sense of mischief coupled with a monumental resentment of good-looking people, mutant or otherwise. He just liked to mess with good-looking people.
Well, he'd been all over the world and seen a lot of lookers, both male and female, but nowhere had he seen such a collection of beauty as that which resided in the X-mansion. They all looked spectacular, all the time, even in second-skin spandex. No cellulite, no outstanding fashion victims, no sagging breasts, no beer bellies, not even bad hair days. They were all spectacularly, preternaturally attractive. They were perfect.
This would be his greatest triumph.
He flits over to the window and gripping it with his little webbed feet, peers into the window, hanging upside down.
They were all in the living room, hanging out. There's the redhead. The one called Jean. And the tall one with the white hair, Storm. There's the skunk-haired, gloved-one. . . ah, she was a cutie. Here comes the guy with the red eyes and the one with the glasses.
Oh. Ugh. Who's the hairy guy with the winged hair-do. He looks like Ace Ventura. Not too pretty, that one. And horrors! There's the guy with the fangs and the blue fur. They will never do. He decides to ignore them. They are not a part of his plan. Only, ridiculously good-looking people need apply. The little gargoyle turns himself invisible with a thought and phases through the window.
"What's that smell?" Logan says, immediately. "Cyke, you been eating those egg and onion sandwiches again?"
Scott ignores him.
"It smells like- it smells like a lizard or something. Did somebody let a lizard in here?"
Everyone looks at him, annoyed. Then they turn back to the T.V. set. They're watching Aliens, the James Cameron flick, again. It's one of Logan's favorite films but he finds it hard to concentrate with weird smells in the room.
"Everybody check the bottoms of their shoes. I'm telling you something smells weird in here."
"Logan, would you chill out? We're trying to watch the movie," Jean says testily.
Gargoyle seizes the moment. They're all in the room together. He opens his tiny, little clawed front paw. A small, invisible orb rolls onto the floor. The sound of it dropping to the floor is swallowed up by the noise coming from the rather noisy movie. Even Logan doesn't hear it. He's still looking around the room, sniffing the air.
Jean snaps her head around and looks at Ororo. Humph. Ororo might be a six foot tall goddess but she didn't have red hair. Jean knows lots of men are red hair fetishists.
On the other side of the couch, Rogue perks up. Sure, Jean and Ororo might have hair that was all one color but they didn't have cute little Southern accents, did they? Rogue knows men can't resist a Southern drawl.
Ororo tilts her head like she's caught the drift of the other women's thoughts. She was a majestic, six-foot package of snowy-haired regalness. Jean and Rogue didn't have shit on her. Really, the nerve.
The three women begin to eye each other, cattily. Jean looks at Rogue. Rogue looks at Jean. Ororo looks at them both. She's so tall she can see over Remy's head.
The men don't notice a thing. They're absorbed in the part where Ripley goes down the elevator in search of the kid.
"Ah don't think Sigourney Weaver is much to look at," Rogue says. "I mean what's with that hair? She looks too butch. Doesn't she go bald in the next movie?"
"I was just thinkin' she a pretty hot-looking woman."
"I like the way she handles that grenade launcher," Crawler adds.
"I think that Newt kid is somethin' else. She's gonna be a cutie," Scott says.
Everyone looks at him, stunned.
"Well, she is pretty cute."
Jean folds her arms in front of her chest. "I don't want to watch this anymore. Let's watch the home video of my wedding. I look really good in that."
"Cripes, not that again."
"Jeez, Jean, how many times do we have to."
Jean looks miffed.
"Ah may not be married but Ah've got mystery about me. No one here knows mah real name. I just have one name. That's sexy. Like Madonna or Sting," Rogue thinks to herself.
"Humph. I'm exotic and unreachable. I have white hair and tall boots."
Jean glares at Rogue and Storm. "I heard that."
Rogue and Storm glare back at her.
"Mind your own business, Red."
"Why don't you go stick your head in the toilet, Jean?"
The four men turn to the women and look puzzled. Then they shrug and turn back to the movie.
No one speaks for a long stretch. Jean is tapping her foot, furiously. Storm is looking up at the ceiling. Rogue starts cracking her knuckles.
"You have split ends, Ororo. Must be all that wind you keep whipping up. Your hair looks kinda fly-away."
Ororo raises a hand to her hair. "At least my hair is all white, Rogue. Where did you get that white patch, anyway? Did not that go out with the Sex Pistols?"
"I have the thick, glossy hair that comes natural to redheads," Jean says.
"Oh yeah, Jean, we all believe that. You must have had to use sandpaper to get those freckles off your face."
"You're a little pain-in-the-ass, Rogue."
"Both of you can bite my creamy Goddessy butt."
"What the hell is wrong with you flamin' frails? You sound like a bunch of squawlin' cats at a beauty pageant."
A light bulb appears over the heads of the three women.
A beauty pageant. That was perfect.
* * * * *
Well, it was only a few days until the pageant, and the entire X-mansion had been turned upside down. The girls were at each others throats. The three of them spent all their time in their rooms, changing clothes, standing in front of the mirror, and muttering to themselves.
Logan had been chosen as the judge. He'd told them flat out that he wasn't going to do it but the three women begged and whined so much that he caved in, finally, so that he would have some peace. Scott was Jean's manager and consultant. Remy attended to Rogue. And Nightcrawler had somehow been coerced into being Storm's one-man entourage. Scott didn't understand what had come over the women but when Jean told him that he wouldn't get any if he didn't help, he caved immediately. Remy didn't understand it either but when Rogue told him he wouldn't get any if he didn't help her, he caved immediately. No one knew what Storm had told Nightcrawler.
All the while, Gargoyle flapped his invisible little self around the mansion, laughing to himself, wringing his little clawed paws, and avoiding Logan. This was going to be his masterpiece.
* * * * *
Jean is standing in front of the mirror, checking herself out.
"Scott, I don't have anything to wear. I wonder what Logan likes me in."
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"I need to go shopping."
"Ah, hell."
"Come on, honey. I'll make it up to you."
Scott brightens. He trails behind her like a puppy. Jean just smiles to herself. She has a plan.
* * * * *
"Remy, shugah, what is my talent? I need a talent."
"Uh- well- chere- you can fly, you're strong, you can smash things."
"That's not good enough. 'Roro and Jean can both fly and smash stuff. I need something---."
A light bulb appears over her head. She has a plan.
* * * * *
"Kurt, did you look up those statistics on the average height of Miss Universe pageant winners?"
"Yes, Ororo. The average is about 5'6", blue-eyed, blonde-haired Scandinavian-esque woman. Here's the computer composite." Ororo looks at it and flings it away from her in disgust. Well, she would just have to resort to Plan B. She has a Plan B.
* * * * *
Logan sits in his room, avoiding all the women.
Suddenly.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Go away. I'm meditatin'"
Jean walks through the door. She's wearing a slinky, black nightie. "Hi, Logan." He looks her over. "Oh, for Chrissake," he says.
"Listen, Logan, you know there's been a lot between us in all these years but there's something missing in my life with Scott, namely you."
"Jeannie, get outta here. You're actin' weird."
"I'm serious, Logan. You know, I can't stop thinking about how if only I was Miss X-Universe than we could rekindle that spark between us that we suppressed so long ago."
"Jeannie, if you don't get your freckled butt out of this room, I'm gonna knock some sense into that red head of yours."
He pushes her out the door, slams it behind her.
A minute later.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
It's Rogue. She's wearing a gold miniskirt and a tiny gold halter top. "Hey shugah, can we talk?"
He eyes her narrowly. "What do you want, kid?"
"Ah was just wonderin' what your favorite book was. Ah often wonder what goes on in that big hairy cranium of yours. You're so complex and driven. It's quite intoxicatin.'"
"My favorite book, lemme see, my favorite book. Oh yeah, it's Finnegan's Wake, the whole thing, all 1000 pages of total stream-of-consciousness gibberish. Better go read it real quick so you can win some points."
He pushes her out the door and slams it behind her. He leans against the door and takes a deep breath. This was getting tiresome. He arches his head and starts to sniff the air. He looks all around the room. He knows something is there. What the hell was it?
Suddenly.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Logan opens the door. It's Ororo. She's wearing the sex slave Princess Leia outfit from Return of the Jedi.
He slams the door in her face.
"Cripes!!" he says.
* * * * *
The big day has arrived. They've decked out the seldom-used ballroom with streamers and big panels of murals depicting the three X-women at various triumphant moments over their squalid and glorious history together. None of the women are too happy with the way they've been drawn. Logan slouches into the room. He slumps into the judge's chair and pulls out a cigar. He scowls at the stage and its attendant trappings. He thinks everything looks absurd. The whole flamin' lot of them have gone insane. He figures some minor supervillain is to blame but he doesn't know who or what. When he finds outhe's gonna kick its butt but good.
Jean sweeps into the room looking like Joan Crawford. She smiles at Logan. He rolls his eyes. Here comes Rogue. Jesus, she's dressed up like Scarlett O'Hara in her momma's curtains. Ororo follows soon after. She's decided to go with a Tina Turner-esque Thunderdome chain-mail outfit. She's teased her hair into an enormous white poof. Logan shakes his head. He can't believe how these flamin' broads are acting. Remy, Scott, and Kurt slog into the room, looking worn-out and sheepish.
*Bamf*
Kurt poofs himself onto the stage. He's the evening's MC. He's rather enjoying himself. The three women mount the stage. Kurt introduces each one. "Here is Contestant #1, Jean Grey. She enjoys reading, crocheting, contact sports, and working with people. Her turn-ons include: lots of mutant angst, becoming omnipotent, and hairy backs."
"What? Since when?" Scott says.
"Oh, pipe down, Scott." Jean says.
She tries to throw a coquettish glance at Logan. He's propped his feet up on the footstool, smoking a cigar and reading the paper, ignoring the entire proceeding.
"Now introducing Contestant #2, the woman known only as Rogue. She enjoys sipping mint juleps on the porch, watching demolition derbies on the tube, and midnight skinny-dipping. Her turn-ons include: men with secret pasts and healing factors."
"Rogue, chere, what are you talking bout?"
"Hush, Remy."
"Now for Contestant #3, Ororo Munroe. She enjoys plants, bad weather, and being worshipped as an Earth Mother. Her turn-ons include: giving herself an impromptu shower, and earthy, sullen men with improper English."
Logan begins to snore loudly. Remy throws a pillow at him. Bam! Oh, that had to hurt. Gargoyle flaps into the room. He was late. He'd been napping on the roof.
"There's that damn smell. What the hell is it?" Logan gets up and begins to wander around the room. "I can hear you flapping around, you little bastard, show yourself."
Gargoyle lights on the bust of Beethoven on the grand piano. That short, hairy guy was gonna ruin everything. He'd better chill out for a minute. The women look like crazed harridans. How wonderful. He begins to hop up and down on Beethoven's head gleefully, wagging his little tail.
"Ow! You stepped on my foot, Jean."
"You were standing in my light. Hey Logan, watch me do this. . . Ow! Back off, Ororo!" Storm, Jean and Rogue begin to claw each other. A strong wind begins to blow across the room. Jean uses her teke to lift Rogue into the air who flails around helplessly, squealing and throwing punches. Scott, Remy and Kurt grab onto the furniture to keep from being blown into the walls.
"Jeez, Scott, do something," Kurt says.
"What do you want me to do? Blast 'em."
"My friends, this is really bad."
Gargoyle is about to go insane with happiness.
Logan manages to walk over to the piano. He grabs the bust of Beethoven and throws it at Ororo. It bonks her squarely on the head and knocks her out cold. Gargoyle was so absorbed in his own euphoria that he didn't see Logan coming. That proved to be a fatal error. So unprepared was he that when Logan grabbed the bust of Beethoven, he lost his balance and slid across the piano top. He bonked himself on the head and forgot to be invisible for one second. Logan throws himself at the piano and slides across its surface, grabbing the little green bugger in the process.
"I gotcha." He starts to shake Gargoyle roughly. "Make it stop, bub, or I'm gonna shake you until you're dead."
Gargoyle lifts his little webbed feet and kicks Logan in the face repeatedly.
"Ow! Why you little---."
Then he claps his claws and flies out the window, cackling to himself, never to be seen again. He's off to the set of Buffy the Vampire Slayer to raise some hell among the cast members.
Jean grabs her head and moans. Rogue comes crashing to the floor with a thud. Ororo is still unconscious. Logan scowls at everyone. Another villain defeated.
"And you people thought I was a psycho."
Then he stomps out of the room to go to the kitchen and make himself a sandwich.
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