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| This is How Bacon is Supposed to Be; Open | |
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| Topic Started: Apr 28 2014, 12:47 AM (256 Views) | |
| Shepherd | Apr 28 2014, 12:47 AM Post #1 |
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April 26, 2014 8:00 am Daniel Oliver was accustomed to work. Some would call it backbreaking effort while others, more familiar with farm duties, would call them daily chores. As a teenager Daniel would have to go out before school and feed the horses and the few chickens and pigs they kept. In the winter he had to chop firewood. The main financial drive of the family ranch was cattle. He wouldn't have to take care of the herd until he came home from school. Depending on the time of year he might be involved with inoculations, checking their hooves, driving them toward better pasture, or even castration. That was a task that Dan could share a level of empathy. The thought of walking around with a heavy duty band around his jewels was enough to give him an uncomfortable itch. Growing up on the ranch he knew that the Saturdays he could sleep in were far and few between but that ethic had been instilled in him at an early age. Even at the mansion, Daniel was compelled to rise early. He had adopted the routine of going to the gym early. His body had grown more accustomed to the bumps and bruises sustained in the Danger Room and other training venues so he was less stiff when he tried a little early exercise. Dan even tried to work in a little planning for his classes. Between his own training, history classes, and the courses for his degree his books were pretty filled and even spare second was precious. This particular morning Dan had taken in a short workout and a shower. He marched upstairs from the gym to the kitchen area to refuel himself and rummaged through the pantry. A quick inspection of the cupboards let him to a quick decision. He was going to make a proper breakfast. When Brandon had stayed with Daniel during visitations they would use Saturday mornings to make breakfast fit for a king. They would listen to music and goof around and have a great time. Dan's musical tastes leaned more along the lines of country while Brandon ate up anything on contemporary pop stations. They found a compromise with a station that played a 70's Flashback Marathon on Saturday mornings. I was really before either of their times so it was fair game. Dan had fried some bacon and munch on a crispy slice. The stack of pancakes was still steaming and the mutant tracker pick up a flapjack and sprayed a ring of whipped cream around the edge. He then drizzled some syrup inside the ring and pressed another pancake on top and ate the small stack like a sandwich; yet another tradition. "... Jokers to the right! Here I am ... middle with you," he mumbled with a full mouth as he bopped along with the music toward the coffee pot. |
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| Anole | Apr 28 2014, 04:55 AM Post #2 |
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"The Steve Miller Band?" Vic paused for a second in the doorway to the kitchen. "Really?" He was standing in the doorway with his usual basketball attire on, his basketball stuffed under one arm and a book called, 'The Once and Future King' in his left hand. He'd come down to the kitchen to get something to eat before finding a nice, quiet place to read, and that's when he'd found Mr. Oliver singing along with the radio. "Ugh," he muttered under his breath as he watched Mr. Oliver take a huge bite out of his pancake sandwich. He slowly bounced his basketball on the floor of the kitchen as he walked over to the fridge. "You should eat better, thaaa--ttt-" he twirled his finger all around and just over the top of Mr. Oliver's whipped cream and syrup filled pancake sandwich as he pointed at it, "can't be good for you." Vic rummaged around inside the fridge for a second before pulling out a bottle of cranberry juice and some milk along with some strawberries and blackberries to put in his cereal. He then went to a cabinet and rummaged around eventually emerging with a box of banana nut Cherrios. He pulled down a bowl and began filling it with cereal. He looked at Mr. Oliver and said, "you want some? You could dump it on your heart attack on a plate." He smiled, trying to tease the history teacher. |
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| Martha Johansson | Apr 28 2014, 07:16 AM Post #3 |
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Saturday mornings were designed for sleep; there was no reason supporting it, no science to uphold any tenets -- it was simple common sense. Just how no one appreciated Monday mornings, everyone, in theory, celebrated the weekend sunrise with the snooze button. Perhaps the odd busybody preferred an early waking (and several names came to mind, none which she wished to dote on lest an accidental, half-asleep projection directed them to the culprit) but today, that did not ascribe to Martha. Or it wasn't supposed to. She'd been resting cozy in bed, wrapped in the loving embrace of a blanket, dreaming of obscurities and occasional fine details that, when connected, translated into an incomprehensible mess. But it all crashed when her phone blared whatever song the telepath decided suited yesterday's alarm. S&M was evidently not the best rooster. Some uninspired expletives later Martha groaned over the music, stumbling towards wherever she'd last left her phone, groaning even louder upon realizing it was somewhere beneath the covers and finally relaxing after a brief rummaging procured the noisy terrorist. And now that sleep most certainly would not come, she haphazardly donned a pair of sweatpants and a random undershirt, perfecting the "I subscribe to lethargy-ism" look with a grey cardigan. Someone needed to immortalize her. Immediately. Trudging across grass, Martha completed the walk to the Mansion ten minutes longer than actually required, grumbling to herself about how life definitely was not fair and definitely had a personal vendetta against bliss and peace and ecstasy. Coffee would fix that. Coffee was her God. Finally inside, the grumbling transcended into whining, still quiet enough so no one shared her sentiments; shuffling into the kitchen, Martha acknowledged the two residents with a lazy half wave, stopping for several seconds to rub her eyes and then ponder why she'd even arrived. Coffee. Yes, coffee. But when Anole directed attention to Daniel's feast energy pervaded the psychic's body; no, that was what she'd come for. "There is absolutely nothing in this realm capable of improving whatever that is," she added, taking several large steps until she was inches away from the flapjack sandwich. A swift finger collected a splatter of whipped cream from his plate and the moment it contaminated her body was the moment she considered it a fruitful Saturday morning. Without, of course, any actual fruit. What was she, crazy? "Mind sharing?" |
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| Shepherd | Apr 30 2014, 07:00 PM Post #4 |
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Daniel always felt the presence of mutant signatures in the world around him. It was as if he was lording over a giant ant farm and could see every one of them. Even out to the furthest reach of his ability he was able to track their movement. He had instant recall each signature and if he had previously encountered the mutant before he could identify them thanks to his mutant abilities. This ability was continuously active so Daniel had a habit of letting it fade into the background of his consciousness. If he was paying attention it would be very difficult for a mutant to surprise him. If Shepherd was distracted, perhaps by a sugar laden pancake, all bets were off. A voice snapped Mr. Oliver to attention. His eyes widened and he focused his attention to his abilities. The quiet rustling of leaves. It was Vic. Daniel turned with the pancake sandwich still clasped in his fingers. The history teacher chewed quickly and swallowed, wishing he had that cup of coffee right at hand. He wiped his mouth with his wrist and replied, “Actually, it’s Stealers Wheel, not Steve Miller. I thought the same thing for a long time. I reckon most people born after ’85 probably recognize it from Reservoir Dogs.” Vic lightly dribbled the basketball toward the fridge and indicated the teacher’s choice of breakfast was probably not the best health option available to him….in so many words. Dan waved the breakfast confection in his hand at the spread he had prepared. Dan cringed at the sound of the basketball. that would have been something he would have called his son out for doing. The school had enough trouble remaining built after it was rebuilt so they probably didn’t need that going on. “You mind, takin’ it easy with the basketball indoors, Vic?” Daniel said. Victor emerged from the fridge with a much healthier breakfast option than Shepherd’s ‘heart attack on a plate.’ Dan looked to the pancake concoction and then to Vic’s healthy cereal. “Thanks for the offer but I like to think of this as fuel for all the Danger Room training and running for our lives that we have to do on a regular basis,” Dan joked back. As they spoke Martha trudged into the kitchen looking less than eager to be out of bed so early on a Saturday. When Shepherd focused on the telepath she registered as the hiss of radio static. She gave both Dan and Vic a wave that reflected her energy level. She was making a beeline toward the coffee pot, the sacred watering hole, but changed her direction to swipe a finger across the syrup and whip cream glazed plate. “See, Vic? I may have found my calling; sugar laden breakfast chef to the masses.” The telepath asked if Shep minded sharing his feast and the mutant tracker quickly wiped his hands and used the tongs to plate a trio of pancakes for Martha. He pointed with these tongs as he spoke, “We’ve got some all natural maple syrup, boysenberry, and Mrs. Butterworth so all your bases are covered. I even fried some bacon and you’ve already seen the coffee.” “So. Is everyone fighting the good fight today? Or is it an off day?” he asked. |
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| Anole | Apr 30 2014, 11:09 PM Post #5 |
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“You mind, takin’ it easy with the basketball indoors, Vic?” "Sure, no problem," Vic said as he took the ball, and with a flick of his wrist began spinning it on a claw. When he was sure he had it spinning fast enough, he balanced it on one of the spikes sticking out of the top of his head. He began chopping up strawberries to put in his cereal, stopping every once in a while to spin the ball some more to keep it from falling. “See, Vic? I may have found my calling; sugar laden breakfast chef to the masses.” Vic laughed at Mr. Oliver's joke, and told him, "yeah, sure. Forget about all the time spent taking classes to become a teacher, you should get a job at IHOP." Vic laughed a little at the absurdity of Mr. Oliver being anything other than a history teacher. Sure he had some mutant ability, but it seemed to Vic that he was meant to be a teacher. "Good morning, Ms. Johansen," Vic greeted the newcomer. He smiled as he said, "you're up awful early on a Saturday morning, aren't you?" He grabbed the ball off the top of his head and set it on a table so he could start eating. “So. Is everyone fighting the good fight today? Or is it an off day?” "Oh, it's definitely an off day," he said. He held up the book he was carrying and said, "I'm actually planning on getting caught up with my reading for lit class, and then maybe taking a drive to town to goof off some. What are you doing today, Mr. Oliver?" |
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| Martha Johansson | May 4 2014, 06:48 AM Post #6 |
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A grin cracked the lustful expression and she already began gathering whatever cocktail of condiments offered the greatest risk of diabetes. There was no excuse today; her schedule lacked a training session and with many of evil's supporters either defeated or incarcerated, Martha saw indulging in this mess as appropriate. And even if something did arise what harm would some pancakes do? She didn't run and punch. It was all cerebral. Slender fingers hovered over the Mrs. Butterworth before another hand snatched the boysenberry. "I've decided on adopting a healthier lifestyle," the telepath jested, almost bouncing towards her plate. Boysenberry just began dribbling onto a pancake when Vic's salutation snatched Martha's attention, and she grinned again, albeit softer. "Please, call me Martha. Ms. Johansson was..." She returned her gaze towards the breakfast, immediately blocking the comment designed to address Violet, the woman she was supposed to see as a mother. Rarely did the brunette let her thoughts stray far enough for them to evoke Violet's memory, but when they did everything was shut down. Martha admittedly hadn't bothered enough to check on her again. So why try starting now? "I made the mistake of forgetting to turn off my phone's alarm and it's a mistake I'm forced to live with. On the upside, I found this feast." Seeking a distraction, it manifested as the lyrics blasting from the radio, something she just noticed. "Who's that?" she inquired, nodding towards the music, moving around Shepherd to grab several pieces of bacon and applying whipped cream in a fashion similar to his. "Some say I've a fast metabolism, others attribute it to luck. But whatever it may be, bless Baby Jesus." Martha winked before crossing the room to find herself a fork. She moved toward the table and plopped down, relishing such an unhealthy sight. She watched Anole momentarily, chewing the first bite; her hand reached out for a drink and upon grasping air, Martha quickly rose to pour herself a cup of coffee, sipping it on the way back. "It's an off day, and thank whatever God in whatever Heaven for that. You'd be a fool for assuming life as any affiliation of the X-Men was peaceful but a moment of absolutely nothing is very much appreciated. Especially when you're me and get tired from breathing." Another bite, another sip; it was a routine she would gladly assimilate. Vic mentioned a literature class and Martha waved her fork in his direction. "What book might that be? I still remember when we were made to read Frankenstein; you have a whole new appreciation for something when you've read the book. It captures more beauty than any film could." Martha smiled to herself, enjoying the reverie -- her days as a student hadn't begun great but it soon turned into an amazing experience. She always hoped that was how the students saw it. |
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| Shepherd | May 4 2014, 09:47 PM Post #7 |
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The reptilian mutant laughed at Mr. Oliver’s joke. Yeah, Daniel had worked too hard and long to just throw away his teaching career. He had really worked hard to make it through his classes. Daniel had been an off-and-on student and was surprised that the majority of his credits hadn’t expired. To say that it was hard being a father, holding down a full time job, dealing with the real world and taking classes at the same time was an understatement. The mutant tracker had been aiming for the realm of academia ever since he was young. Even when he was working on the ranch he kept his goal and aspirations in the back of his mind. Daniel might have joked about it, but he had crossed too far to turn his back on his goals. Martha had made her decision for the pancake topping, choosing the ‘healthier’ option of boysenberry. She poured the sauce to top her flapjacks. The telepath insisted that Vic call her Martha. She explained that she forgot to silence her alarm the night before and was unceremoniously awakened prematurely on this fine Saturday. Though she was fortunate and thankful for the chance to partake in the breakfast that Daniel had prepared. As Martha moved around Dan she nodded toward the radio and inquired about the band. “This is Stealers Wheel,” Dan explained. The music faded out and transitioned to another song. Dan didn’t recognize it immediately but soon enough the singer declared that there was ‘a man at the back as a matter of fact’ and he knew. “This is now Ballroom Blitz by The Sweet. You might know their song about Little Willy won’t go home.” Vic held up his book and declared it was an off day for him. A day meant for relaxation and catching up on his reading for his literature class. Daniel turned his head to read the title on the spike of the paperback. The Once and Future King. Daniel smiled as he recognized the book. It brought back some nice memories for him. He had enjoyed the story and how it had resonated through the years. The Arthurian legend had been the inspiration for so many other tales. Dan’s own concentration had been in American history but much of American history played off of that of Europe and so forth. Everything was connected. Martha sat and took a bite of food but quickly realized she hadn’t gotten herself a drink. She made her way to the coffee pot and explained she was taking the day off. Dan agreed that any day they had to take it easy was a divine gift. Normally the X-family was busy as anything trying to save the day for mankind, human and mutant alike. “You’re right Martha. The books are always better than the movies. There is so much more detail that you can’t fit into ninety minutes.” The mutant tracker took a bite from his pancake sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “I’m doing catch up work like you, Vic. I was originally going to volunteer at the shelter again but I’ve got to work on a chapter for one of my online classes. Got a paper to write. I didn’t think I could devote enough time to my studies on my break at the soup line. Then I have to program a Danger Room session. So, even my off days are not to off,” he explained. |
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| Anole | May 5 2014, 04:20 AM Post #8 |
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“This is now Ballroom Blitz by The Sweet. You might know their song about Little Willy won’t go home.” Vic looked over at Mr. Oliver, and frowning asked him, "wasn't this in Wayne's World?" Makes a horrified face, and says, "'no Stairway. Denied! '" "What book might that be? I still remember when we were made to read Frankenstein; you have a whole new appreciation for something when you've read the book. It captures more beauty than any film could." He held up the book, "it's The Once and Future King by a T.H. White. It's about the Arthurian legends." He looked at it and said, "it's supposed to be one of Professor X's favs." “You’re right Martha. The books are always better than the movies. There is so much more detail that you can’t fit into ninety minutes.” "Well, there's a lot of books out there that could do with some shortening." He tapped a finger on his chin, considering all the boring books he's read in his life. Like Thomas Mann's 'The Magic Mountain.'" He looked down at his right arm. "It's like when something bad happens to you, it becomes stuck in your mind forever." He got a little mischievous look on his face, then stood up and cleared his throat. "'The first step toward evil-,'" he hissed each word, making gestures to Mr. Oliver and Martha to lean in close. "'-toward desire and death, was taken precisely then, when there took place that first increase in the density of the spiritual-,'" raising his voice, he gestured towards the heavens. "'-that pathologically luxuriant morbid growth, produced by the irritant of some unknown infiltration; this, in part pleasurable-,'" he stroked his chin with a small smile on his face. "'-in part a motion of self-defense, was the primeval stage of matter, the transition from the insubstantial to the substance. This was the Fall,'" he bowed his head and threw open his arms in a grand gesture towards the ground. "Ugh! Reading that was the longest six weeks of my life!" Vic grabbed a spoon and mimed stabbing himself in the heart with it. Tongue hanging out, he pretending to collapse on the floor. |
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