By Desert Nomad
Disclaimer: Phhbbt. I hate these. Blah, blah...X-Force belongs to Marvel, not me. Spice Girls belong to Virgin Records, or themselves, or something. I would also like to take the time to profusely apologize to Mr. Flatley, because this sort of is a direct insult to him and his show. I'm sure he's not really the way I portray him, but hey, it's funny! Also, I'd like to take the time to apologize to all the good Irish people of the world. I'm sorry. Very, very, sorry.
Teresa Rourke was tired. Tired and cranky. It wasn't easy being the Deputy Leader of X-Force. Deputy leader, ha. As if Cable wasn't off in the future again, and Domino wasn't doing stunts for that latest Demi Moore flick...
"Hey," Scott Summers had told her, "being the leader's tough, but it's got rewards, too!" Yeah, right. Scott led the X-Men. When they were actually around to listen to him (which was rare), they actually did listen to him. He didn't have to lead a bunch of people who'd rather play Sega and watch MTV than fight evil.
Terry stood wearily in front of the couch, trying to remember what she was supposed to be doing. They'd already done their daily Danger Room training session, dinner wasn't for another two hours, and miraculously, no one was having any personal problems this week. Terry absently wondered where everyone was. The strains of "Say You'll Be There" emanating from the hallway proved that Shatterstar was in his room, listening to his Spice Girls cd for the umpteenth million time. My Spice Girls cd, Terry reminded herself. Shatty had borrowed it two months ago, and hadn't given it back, since. Jimmy was in the kitchen, baking...something. That boy just isn't right, Terry sighed to herself. Maybe he should get some counseling. No one else was anywhere to be found. Terry didn't care. At least she was alone. Exhausted, she flopped down on the couch.
"Tttthhhbbbbbppppttt!" Terry's eyes widened and her face reddened.
"Ha, ha, ha!"
"I can't believe she fell for it!"
"Tthhbbppt! Heehee!" Embarrassed, Teresa pulled the deflated whoopee cushion out from under the couch cushion.
"Hoo, ha, the look on your face was priceless!" Enraged, Terry spun around to face Rictor, Meltdown and Sunspot, crouched behind the couch.
"What in the bloody hell was that for?!" Bobby DaCosta scratched his head.
"'Cause it was funny."
"Nae, it was not!"
"Yeah, it was," Tabitha noted.
"Why me? I thought I was nice to ye!"
"Well...yeah. But you're the leader. We have to play practical jokes on you. Jeez, you're a lot testier than Sam..."
"Ye never did things like this tae Sam!"
"Gee, someone obviously doesn't remember the blow-up doll incident..."
"Ye're a bunch of immature...immature...children!"
"Well...yeah. By the way, when's dinner?"
"I dinnae know! Why ask me?"
"Aren't you making it?"
"Nae! Why should I?"
"'Cause...you're the leader. That's your job."
"Oh. It's my job to cook and be the butt of practical jokes?"
"Yeah. And find new hideouts. And frankly, Terry, you're just not doing your job. This place sucks. Storm keeps chasing us around, and making us eat tofu and stuff..."
"I'm...not...doin'...me...job?"
Ric, Tabby and Bobby suddenly recognized the metaphorical-giant- neon- "Mount Vesuvius" sign flashing over Terry's head. "We're not saying that at all, Terry, you're doing a great job..."
"Yeah, you're much better than Sam ever was..."
"In fact, you're the best deputy leader we've ever had..."
Then, suddenly, Shatterstar stuck his head out of his bedroom door. "Teresa, when will dinner be ready? I am hungry."
"Aaauuurrrgghhh! That's it! I'm done! I quit! Find a new bloody leader, I am out of here!" She jumped up and stomped out of the door. Jimmy ran in.
"What happened?"
"Terry left."
"To go get gas?"
"No, she quit."
"But--but--but--" The door slammed, and Terry stomped back in. "You've come back!" Jimmy exclaimed happily. Terry ignored him, and clomped over to Shatterstar.
"Give it back."
"What?"
"Me Spice Girls cd." Shatterstar's lower lip quivered.
"You want me to...give it back?"
"Aye." Forlornly, he removed it from his cd player, replaced it in it's case, and handed it back to her. "Thank ye very much." Then she stomped back out the door.
"But--but--but--" Jimmy resumed stuttering. "NOOOOOOOO!"
"Cable's gonna kill us for this one," Tabitha sighed.
Teresa sat on the bus stop bench, angrily clutching her Spice Girls cd. There was only one regret in her mind. I shouldae demanded me Alanis Morissette cd back, too. A man sat next to her on the bench. He caught her attention. Actually, he caught most of the block's attention. That was due in large part to the large, sequined jacket he wore, which had a picture of Colm Meany worked on the back. Teresa looked over at him nervously.
"Um...top o' the mornin', t'ye, sir." He looked at her.
"Ye're Irish?"
"Why, yes, sir! Ye, too?"
"Aye. By any chance, d'ye have any, er, Celtic dancin' experience?"
"I took lessons as a wee girl." Actually, she'd wanted to take tae kwon do. Uncle Tom had insisted on the Celtic dancing. The man's face split into a grin.
"Allow me ta introduce meself. I'm Michael Flatley..."
"Let me get this straight. She just flipped out and left?"
"It's not like it's never happened, before..." Meltdown said, refusing to meet Cable's eyes.
"What did you do to her?"
"Me? I didn't do nuthin'! It was Rictor."
"Was not! 'Sides which, it was Bobby's whoopee cushion."
"Suuure! Blame the man with the whoopee cushion."
"Is friend-Teresa coming back?" Caliban murmured worriedly.
"We don't know, Caliban," Cable sighed. "Geez, leave you kids alone for a few centuries, and the whole team goes to POT!"
"I tried to get her to stay, but she wouldn't listen to me!" Jimmy exclaimed. The others rolled their eyes. Suddenly, the phone rang.
"I'll get it!"
"No, I'll get it!"
"You got it last time, it's my turn!" Tabby won the wrestling match to the phone.
"Your dime."
"Tabitha? It's Terry."
"Terry? Is it you? Terry? Guys, it's Terry. Are you coming home?"
"Are you coming home?"
"Nae."
"Are you in jail?"
"Nae."
"Have you been kidnapped by evil, bloodthirsty, slimy aliens?"
"Nae. I've, uh, just called tae say that I've found a job."
"Really?"
"Aye. I'm uh, performing."
"In what?"
"Riverdance."
"Whu...?"
"Oops, gotta go. That was the end of our two minute break. Gotta get back tae practicin'!" She hung out. Tabby stared at the phone.
"She left us to go dance in a river. Why would anyone want to dance in a river? Maybe it's an Irish thing."
"She is probably dancing to rocking tunes of the Spice Girls," Shatterstar sighed.
"I miss her," Jimmy added.
"A river?" Cable echoed.
"That's what she said."
"I knew I should've led Generation X instead..."