Chapter 19

“Wow!” exclaimed Spiderman, “That sure was a crazy adventure!”
“Yeah dude,” agreed Wolverine, “It was actually a lot of fun.”
“Yeah, besides getting shot by Nazis,” chuckled Spiderman, “I must admit that was all pretty sassy!”
Spiderman and Wolverine were voyaging through the desert on horseback, cautiously returning to civilization after their strange encounter with the Holy Grail. They would have been swinging around on Spiderman’s webs, except there weren’t any buildings or lamp posts in the desert for them to attach to.
“Wolverine…” said Spiderman out of nowhere, “Do you ever wonder where you came from?”
“What do you mean, bub?” asked Wolverine.
“I mean, like…who your parents are…your cultural heritage…that kinda shit.”
“Well, to tell you the truth, Spiderman…no, not really.”
“No kidding?”
“Yeah, I mean, I used to wonder about that stuff. It’d always be in the back of my mind…I felt lost.”
“That’s understandable.”
“Yeah, it is. It really is, I think. I mean, for years I just felt really out of place no matter where I was. I kept drifting from one town to the next, daring people to try and crush my bones for cash. They money was good, but being a wandering mystery was really taking its toll on me. I was lost, hopeless, and on the verge of suicide…that is, until I met Professor X.”
“Ah, Professor X, the leader and mentor of the X-Men.”
“Yes, that’s the one. It all happened when I was in New York City, and I had just spent about an hour checking out the view from roof of World Trade Center's south tower. This, of course, was before the terrorist attacks. It was my first time in The Big Apple, and, for just a little while, I was able to forget about my troubles as I stared out over the landscape of buildings and roads and also Central Park.”
“It’s a perspective on the world that I know quite a lot about,” winked Spiderman.
“Ha, I bet it is! So, after taking a nice, deep breath and absorbing that incredible view one last time, I decided to head back down to the street and go see RENT. I was just heading out the doors at the bottom of the tower when I heard a strange buzzing noise coming from behind me. I turned around to see a bald man in some sort of hovering chair-type seat zooming along in my wake.
‘That’s odd,’ I thought to myself, ‘Things don’t float…’ but I chalked it up to the fact that I was really pretty drunk. Drunk or not, I’m always a perfect gentleman, so I decided to hold the door open for this wacky floating fellow.
‘Thank you!’ he said as he hovered through the door I was holding.
‘You're very welcome,’ I replied, then mumbled to myself, ‘Man, I really gotta quit drinkin'.’ Well, if I thought I was seeing booze-induced hallucinations before, imagine how I felt when this bald guy proceeded to spin his floaty chair around and he’s got a pistol pointed right at me!
‘Bang!’ he yelled, and then a split-second later he actually discharged his gun and shot me in the abdomen. The blast knocked me to the ground…ground zero, you might say…but of course I’m a tough ol’ bastard so I was just like,
‘Fuck! Fuckity fuck fuck fucking sonofabitch penis sucking shit fucking faggot faggot fuck. Jesus fucking shit, you just fucking shot me you floating fucking ass fuck!’
‘Aha! Just as I suspected,’ exclaimed the man who I would later come to know as Professor Charles Francis Xavier, ‘You’re a mutant!’
‘The fuck…a mu-what? Fuck you, man!’
‘A mutant! The next evolution of human evolution. Why, look, your bullet wound is healing up already!’ Sure enough, my body’s hyper-accelerated healing ability was going right to work, repairing my body like it always does.
‘Listen, bub,’ I growled ‘I don’t know who the fuck you are, or where the fuck you get off thinking you can shoot me, but I’m going to walk thataway and you should just be glad that I’m not going to pull you out of that stupid fucking floating chair and throw you against the side of the fucking World Trade Center south tower. Got it, bub?’
‘Where are you going, friend?’ asked Professor X as I began to walk away. ‘Home to your family, perhaps?’ I stopped dead in my tracks, my back still turned.
‘I don’t…’ I paused, ‘…have a family.’
‘Ah, but that’s where your wrong,’ chuckled Professor X, ‘You do have a family. I am not joking.’
‘W-what do you mean?’ I asked, flipping around to once again face the man who had shot me just a few moments earlier.
‘I want you to come live on my ranch with the other mutants.’
‘The other...you mean…I’m not…the only...one?’
‘No, silly!’ grinned Professor X, ‘Why, there are mutants everywhere. Just watch!’ Professor X then began shooting a bunch of people on the street. They all got really grumpy, but none of them died because they were all mutants.
‘I…I had no idea,’ I mumbled, the full weight of my foolish self-imposed emotional isolation coming to bear in the span of a few short moments, ‘But still, who are you to try and soothe my aching soul? You don’t know what it’s like…nobody knows what it’s like.’
‘Actually, I know exactly what it's like,’ said Professor X, taking a serious tone and looking down towards the ground. After a moment of awkward silence, he raised his eyes to meet mine. ‘You see…I myself am a mutant.’
‘You? A mutant?’
‘Yes!’ exclaimed Professor X with a sly smile creeping back onto his face, “I'm psychic or something. Wolverine, can’t you see now? Your whole life you’ve been wandering around, alone, feeling like you don’t belong anywhere…but there is a place where you belong…on my ranch as part of the X-Men!’
‘The…X…Men?’ I asked.
‘The X-Men!’
‘Who dat?’
‘The X-Men,’ stated Professor X, ‘Are a ragtag gang of good-hearted mutants who save average citizens from things which could crush them, such as flying train engines or giant, falling chunks of concrete. My name is Professor Xavier, and I lead the X-Men on our wild adventures around the world.’
‘Sounds like...fun.’
‘Oh, and it is! It surely is. Come, my friend; come to my ranch!’
‘O-okay,’ I agreed, and in that moment I knew I had found my purpose in life: X-Men. ‘So, Professor Xavier…may I ask you something kind of personal?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your floating chair thing…do you need that because your legs don’t work?’
‘Yes.’
‘And your legs, do they not work because you’re a mutant?’
‘No…actually, it's because I was in a really bad car accident.’
‘Oh…oh I’m so sorry.’
‘No, no. It’s all right…I really like to talk about it a lot. You see, I was walking along the street one day, when an evil, evil man named Dr. Octopus threw a car at me with his metallic arms. The car accidentally landed on my spine, crushing it instantly. Ever since that day, I’ve vowed that I wouldn’t let another person get crushed because of a crazed supervillain. So, I built this floating chair, bought a ranch, and the rest is history.’
‘That’s excellent,’ I replied, touched by Professor X’s incredible story of bravery and personal triumph. Our open and heartfelt conversation continued for many minutes and I eventually invited him to join me in seeing RENT. Though he had to float in the middle of the isle the whole show with people having to awkwardly squeeze around him on several occasions, we both had a really great time. Once the show let out, X took me back to his ranch, gave me this stupid costume, and I’ve been an official member of the X-Men ever since.”
“Hey!" exclaimed Spiderman loudly. “That’s an awesome story! Did that actually happen?’
“Yes!” shouted Wolverine.
Spiderman and Wolverine continued riding through the desert on horseback, exchanging lightheaded banter and sweating. Their journey was rather unremarkable…that is, until Spiderman was like,
“What’s that?”
“What’s what?” responded Wolverine.
“That!” said Spiderman pointing to a black speck on the horizon.
“I don’t know…let’s go find out!” suggested Wolverine. The two men used their horses to slowly approach that black speck, which turned into a black dot, and eventually into a black guy sitting on a carpet, surrounded by all sorts of trinkets.
“Hello, sir!” hailed Spiderman, hopping down off his horse.
“Welcome gentlemen!” smiled the amicable negro, revealing a mouth missing several teeth. Gross! “May I interest you in one of my extremely rare, very fine curiosities?”
“Whatchu got?” queried Wolverine.
“Well, gentleman, I have all sorts of novel items from all over the world!” replied the mysterious trader, “Take, for example, this haunted Spiderman-shaped vibrator from deep in the Congo…only 50 dinars!”
“Nah, I’ve already got one of those,” giggled Spiderman.
“Then perhaps I can interest you in this haunted piece of rubble from Ground Zero in New York City! Trapped within are the spirits of nearly 3,000 New Yorkers…only 15 dinars!”
“Nah, we’re looking for something a little less inappropriate,” frowned Wolverine reproachingly.
“Hmm…well, okay, okay, just for you, my friends, I have something very special. Usually I do not show this to anybody, but I can tell that you are very discerning customers indeed.”
“Ooh hoo hoo,” giggled Wolverine, blushing, “I’m flattered!” The trader reached into his backpack, fishing around for a moment. He pulled out a colorful, folded-up scarf and began to slowly unwrap it. Inside the scarf was a small object sealed in festive wrapping paper, with a little silver bow on top. The trader began to carefully peel away the tape holding the wrapping together, careful not to tear anything. Wolverine and Spiderman leaned in close to see what exactly the man had guarded so closely.
“Gentlemen,” whispered the trader, “I present to you…a cassette tape of the TLC album CrazySexyCool!”
“No way!” exclaimed Wolverine slapping his forehead. “This is so weird, because as were riding through the dessert, I was talking about how I was pissed off that I had a Sony Walkman and a bunch of batteries but no great music to rock out to, but now here you are with this tape and, oh man, what a world!”
“Hold your horses, Wolverine,” said Spiderman, “How much is this gonna set us back? “
“Oh,” replied the trader, “I think I could part with this most special of artifacts for…200 dinars.”
“200 dinars? 200 dinars?!?” shouted Spiderman, “Hey, fuck you buddy! C’mon Wolverine, let’s blow this joint.” Spiderman and Wolverine, disgusted, began to walk away.
“Gentlemen!” called the trader, “I do believe that there is something about this tape of which you are not aware…” Spiderman and Wolverine paused, and turned around to face the trader once again.
“You see, my very good friends, this is no ordinary cassette tape of the TLC album CrazySexyCool…for this copy…is haunted!”
“Haunted, you say?” asked Wolverine, his curiosity piqued.
“Haunted,” affirmed the enigmatic trader.
“Haunted by what?” questioned Spiderman.
“Haunted…” sneered the trader, “by the ghost of Lisa ‘Left Eye’ Lopes!”
“Oh, man!” exclaimed Wolverine. “That’s spooky!”
“So, gentleman,” said the trader, taking a more serious tone, “Are you interested in purchasing this one-of-a-kind oddity...or are you a couple of pussies?”
“Now hold on there, bub,” growled Wolverine, “I’m a lot of things, but I ain’t no damn pussy. Got it?”
“Hey, chill out, dude,” cooed Spiderman. “Sorry about my friend here, he gets a little hot-headed sometimes. So, about that price…200 dinars seems a little steep…how about a buck fiddy?”
“Sir, you insult my humble business! I’m afraid I absolutely cannot part with this cassette tape for anything less than 200 dinars.”
“165,” retorted Spiderman.
“Ah, since I can tell you are an experienced bargainer, I will offer you this miracle of modern music for the low, low price of 190 dinars.”
“Highway robbery!” shouted Spiderman. “C’mon Wolverine, let’s actually blow this joint for real.”
“Are you crazy?” whispered Wolverine, pulling his pal aside, “This is big shit, we can’t just walk away!”
“Wolverine,” said Spiderman solemnly, “Trust me. I grew up in a trading neighborhood, this is how it’s done.”
“Well…okay,” replied Wolverine, and taking Spiderman arm-in-arm, they began to stride away confidently.
“Okay, okay, my friends!” rapped the trader, “I can, though it pains me greatly, go down to 175 dinars…but no lower!”
“Buddy…” smiled Spiderman, “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Spiderman whipped out his wallet and handed the mysterious trader fellow the agreed-upon amount. Spiderman and Wolverine walked away from the trader’s carpet, hopped back on their horses, and high-fived each other.