Family Reunion: Part 3
by Siarade
No, I will NOT have ANYTHING to do with KARAOKE.
I refuse. On the basic principle that no man has ever looked macho while singing karaoke, and in this crowd, I need to maintain all the masculine dignity that I have.
Ha ha. Shut up.
Hell no! C'mon, just because...oh eww, my parents are _dancing_....yeah, well, you laugh when it's your Mom and Dad grinding on the dance floor! God, I need a spoon. I need a spoon.
So I can gouge my eyes out.
As I was saying, just because everybody else is doing it is the _exact_ reason why I shouldn't. Besides, do you see Logan up there "Mambo Number Five-ing?" No. And why don't you see it? Because it's lame. It's absolutely, positively the easiest way outside of wearing flowers in your hat and painting your nails pink to look unmacho. Do you see Nathan shouting to the world that yes, he loves the nightlife and yes, he's got to boogie?
Although, if he went sleeveless and spun around real fast, he'd make a cool disco ball.
Truly, if there is a God or Bright Lady or whatever out there, you will not tell my brother I said that. I happen to be somewhat fond of the ability to walk.
Huh? I dunno. Maybe. It might just be some part of the genetics. Or some weird subcultural family mutation. It's not a hang up – it's just kind of there. Chris and I, we were raised, like all the other X-kids, in a pretty fucked up situation. I mean, yeah, we were loved and all that, but the majority of my childhood was spent hiding and running and listening to battle plans and trying not to die and being afraid of dying and watching people dying. It's only been the last couple years, since the war ended, that things have settled down to a state where peace is normal. I'm not afraid of the dark but I don't like to travel alone outside the mansion, and I can hear that ringing gunshot noise sometimes, when I'm not expecting it. I don't like shadows and I can't stand being out in the open, without cover.
Call it machoness if you want – but when your role models are Nathan Christopher Charles Summers Dayspring Askani'son, you know, the messiah (or as I usually call him, the fucking messiah – but my father slaughters me when I do that), and Wolverine, and my father, and my grandfather, and Beast, and Colossus, and even Remy, and just about ever other male X-Man, you can't help it. I couldn't – there's an imprint in my mind about toughness and it's place in the world, in my world.
You think I'm being sexist – I'm not. My mother could kick the crap out of anybody with both hands tied behind her back while wearing a pumpkin costume and twirling batons with her teeth. She can kiss me on the cheek and tell me she loves me, but I know that she's one tough ass bitch.
Don't tell her I said that, either. Where do you think Nathan gets his temper from?
I grew up in a world where you're pretty much defined by how badass you can be. There are standards you have to uphold: either be muscle-bound or be quick; be able to splatter someone on a wall once sufficiently angered; a fierce sense of loyalty to your family, which generally leads to an ultimate event of failure, for which you need years or some redeeming moment in which to forgive yourself; a binding moral regret over failures – be it truly your fault or through no avoidable fault of your own – which you must carry like a cross – or, should that not be your option, for example, if a sibling has already taken that role and you don't want to get buried in their shadow – you must walk a rigid moral tightrope that puts you into horrible situations of choosing which pain to accept; the obvious quick, razor wit; persistence; be cool under pressure, or, upon the application of too much pressure, explode spectacularly; have at least one quirky fault that makes you vulnerably endearing – my personal favorite is big brother Nathan's mental block with idiom; face evil with resignation and fear, but always face it; and of course, one hell of a kickass mutant power.
I grew up with all that – and of course it has effected me. And even if you can see it clearly, if you know exactly what's going on, you can't help but try to be just as strong, tough, cool, smart, brooding, troubled, angry and funny as everyone else.
Even if you don't have the of course, one hell of a kickass mutant power.
And that, friend, is why I won't participate in karaoke.
No, it makes perfect sense.
You can be Nathan or Jono or Pete and pull off machoness while singing, because they all faced evil, fought the good fight and smashed people-slash-demons-slash-things into walls with a big crush of spectacular-ness. But me...well, the last thing I smashed into a wall was my head when I had the flu a couple years ago and fainted. So I've got to grip any sense of machoness I may have and not let go.
I'm being too serious? Jeez, lady, you've got to be kidding. I'm fifteen. I'm made out of seriousness, brooding angst and all that shit. It's what teenagers _do_.
Well, my mom tells me that if "smart-ass" was a mutant power, I'd be alpha class.
Good. I'm hungry. Let's eat.
Noisy, huh? Yeah, well, we eat big. Now c'mon. I'm gonna have to kill somebody if I don't get some of that barbeque chicken.