Post by arstyn on Oct 29, 2004 19:14:46 GMT -4
Alright, so I was looking at my vocabulary words this week (yes, it’s pathetic. I thought that spelling books ended at grade five, and here I am, four years later, still pattering away…) ANYWAY. I saw the words for this week, and…it occurred to me.
“These words would make a fun fanfic.” See how boring and generic I am? Anyway, this is beyond the point. Irrelevant. Wow, my English teacher would be doing cartwheels.
Vocabulary Madness
Mortimer Toynbee was not the most intelligent person alive. He wasn’t as dull-witted as some of his counterparts, Sabretooth, for example, but was no where near the levels of say…Magneto or Mystique.
Erik and Blue were thinkers. He was a ‘doer’. An inventor. Give him the pieces, and he’d put them together- give him the need and he’d find you a solution.
But asking him to write a work of fiction? It was like asking Sabretooth to play the Ninth, or Pyro not to go on and on about his pathetic teenaged angst.
So indeed, he found himself in quite a quagmire when he faced with another one of Magneto’s hair-brained schemes.
During his short stay in prison, the Master of Magnetism had been hitting the books. He hadn’t had much time for good literature while planning human kind’s demise, world domination, etc. etc, so his incarceration had permitted him some time with the arts.
This, of course, had led to the notion that his Brotherhood was not educated enough in these areas either. After his three month stay in the Big House, he had come back to the lair filled with the excellence of Moby Dick, Don Quixote, The Lord of the Rings series, and Pat the Bunny.
Especially ‘Pat the Bunny.’<br> When Erik had first mentioned his new assignment, he was sure his master was joking. After he had been assured this mission was completely valid, he had a private talk with Mystique to discuss if perhaps, the mind controlling serum had effects on ones’ sanity.
They were to write a work of fiction, about 1000 words long. Magneto had assured them that it was more than it sounded, but considering that Sabretooth and their youngest inductee had trouble stringing a simple sentence together, he might as well be asking for a miracle.
And now, because of his procrastination, he wasn’t able to come along with Magneto and Mystique to Alkali Lake. Erik had a very long talk with him, Sabretooth, and Pyro about turning in their work late, and living up to Their Potential.
He felt as if he were in school again. The very thought made his head begin to throb.
So he sat, looking at his paper vacantly, a pencil in hand. He had told Magneto that typing would have been much quicker, but Teacher had said that he might cheat. Bootlegging was very Wrong. Very, very, very Wrong.
He thought it quite pointless to tell a bunch of scruple-less assassins this, but he kept his mouth shut. He rubbed his temples with vigor. This wasn’t getting any easier, and he doubted that he was the only one in the lair that seemed bored. No doubt Zippo-Man would be traipsing around the lair, checking if there were any combustible items around. He shuddered at the thought.
He sighed one last time, and looked at the paper with determination.
“Once upon a time…” he quickly thought back to a slightly over-obsessed fan-girl, and crossed it out, lifting his pencil again.
“These words would make a fun fanfic.” See how boring and generic I am? Anyway, this is beyond the point. Irrelevant. Wow, my English teacher would be doing cartwheels.
Vocabulary Madness
Mortimer Toynbee was not the most intelligent person alive. He wasn’t as dull-witted as some of his counterparts, Sabretooth, for example, but was no where near the levels of say…Magneto or Mystique.
Erik and Blue were thinkers. He was a ‘doer’. An inventor. Give him the pieces, and he’d put them together- give him the need and he’d find you a solution.
But asking him to write a work of fiction? It was like asking Sabretooth to play the Ninth, or Pyro not to go on and on about his pathetic teenaged angst.
So indeed, he found himself in quite a quagmire when he faced with another one of Magneto’s hair-brained schemes.
During his short stay in prison, the Master of Magnetism had been hitting the books. He hadn’t had much time for good literature while planning human kind’s demise, world domination, etc. etc, so his incarceration had permitted him some time with the arts.
This, of course, had led to the notion that his Brotherhood was not educated enough in these areas either. After his three month stay in the Big House, he had come back to the lair filled with the excellence of Moby Dick, Don Quixote, The Lord of the Rings series, and Pat the Bunny.
Especially ‘Pat the Bunny.’<br> When Erik had first mentioned his new assignment, he was sure his master was joking. After he had been assured this mission was completely valid, he had a private talk with Mystique to discuss if perhaps, the mind controlling serum had effects on ones’ sanity.
They were to write a work of fiction, about 1000 words long. Magneto had assured them that it was more than it sounded, but considering that Sabretooth and their youngest inductee had trouble stringing a simple sentence together, he might as well be asking for a miracle.
And now, because of his procrastination, he wasn’t able to come along with Magneto and Mystique to Alkali Lake. Erik had a very long talk with him, Sabretooth, and Pyro about turning in their work late, and living up to Their Potential.
He felt as if he were in school again. The very thought made his head begin to throb.
So he sat, looking at his paper vacantly, a pencil in hand. He had told Magneto that typing would have been much quicker, but Teacher had said that he might cheat. Bootlegging was very Wrong. Very, very, very Wrong.
He thought it quite pointless to tell a bunch of scruple-less assassins this, but he kept his mouth shut. He rubbed his temples with vigor. This wasn’t getting any easier, and he doubted that he was the only one in the lair that seemed bored. No doubt Zippo-Man would be traipsing around the lair, checking if there were any combustible items around. He shuddered at the thought.
He sighed one last time, and looked at the paper with determination.
“Once upon a time…” he quickly thought back to a slightly over-obsessed fan-girl, and crossed it out, lifting his pencil again.