Disclaimer: The story is not true and no malice or impeachment was intended. Sabertooth, Storm, Cyclops and Wolverine, as well as the most general plot outline and a few actual lines belong to Marvel and Brian Singer plus whoever helped him write the screenplay for the X-men movie. However, the rest of the characters belong only to themselves, the audience, and a little bit - to me, for developing their superhero qualities. As well as the dudes who play the parts of the 4 guys I mentioned in the second sentence. Whatever. Oh, and the title "His Blackness" as applied to Ritchie Blackmore appears courtesy of Mr. David Coverdale...

Note: BIGGEST AND VERY SPECIAL THANXX to Claudia for actually taking her time to proof-read this for me! If anything doesn't read all that smoothly, that's only because I had the nerve to neglect some of her recommendations... so blame me and only me!

The following is the parody of X-men (the movie) and is done in the form of the movie script. The links in the text will take you to the screenshots added in order to illustrate the action. Everything is done with the appropriate lack of talent and carelessness, so consider yourself warned!

The Cast: (with personal commentaries; scroll down if you're bored to read all this stuff)

Wolverine: Nikki Sixx. Because he's unkillable and ages so nicely.

Blonde Rogue: Vince Neil. Because he's blonde.

Cyclops: Jon Bon Jovi. He's The Good Guy, and he's anal, and he SMILES...

Storm: Sebastian Bach. Ever heard him scream?

Dr. Rose: Axl Rose. For no particular reason... he simply was the only redhead at hand.

Professor: Ozzy Osbourne. Don't you just see the overwhelming paternity this man radiates?

His Blackness: Ritchie Blackmore. Because he IS evil...

Senator Tipper: Tipper Gore. No comments.

Sabertooth: Zakk Wylde. Because he was the first thing I thought of when I first saw Tyler Mane play this part in the movie...

Bigstick: Tommy Lee. Because he changes his looks and opinions so often. Had to change the name from Mystique to Bigstick so that it really fit.

Tongueman: Gene Simmons. For obvious reasons.

CHAPTER ONE

[Snowy expanses of Canada. A narrow road. A truck approaches. Slows to a halt. Stops dead. A blonde guy (yes, he does look a bit like a chick, but it's a guy, trust me) jumps out of the door and looks around uncertainly. That's Vince the Blonde Rogue.]

Blonde Rogue [looks around in disgust]: Eww. What's that place? You said you'd take me to Laughlin City?

Truck Driver [scrambles out of the truck, zips his jeans]: For a blowjob like that I could take you all the way to Ottawa, but the engine died, y'know. That is one thing you can't fix by sucking.

Blonde Rogue [shrugs]: You'd never let me try. What's this place?

Truck Driver: We call it Da Hole.

Blonde Rogue: Sounds appropriate to me. Hasta la vista, dead engine. This looks like a bar!

[Blonde Rogue walks into the bar. It's a small, dimly lit place. There's a barred square in the middle of the hall - The Cage. There are two men fighting in The Cage and a small crowd of spectators around it.]

Blonde Rogue: Aha! If they have time and money for that shit, a few must have time and money for me. Anyway, I don't even know what I was going to do in Laughlin City. A script nit or something. Here we go. [eases himself into the crowd]

[The Cage. One of the two fighters, a short pudgy thing, tears out a handful of his rival's hair. The latter yells. It's a tall tattooed black-haired guy. That's Nikki The Wolverine.]

Wolverine: You fucked up my hair-do - you're dead, bitch! [spits in the bald guy's eye]

Pudgy Guy: Aaaahhh! Shit, that's pure alcohol! [is temporarily blinded]

Wolverine [murmurs]: And a good deal of morphine, but you need not know that, pal. [using the guy's temporary blindness to his advantage, lands a few good kicks and throws the guy out of The Cage] Fresh meat, please!

[Another short pudgy guy jumps out of the crowd and onto The Cage floor.]

Wolverine [stares]: Oh shit. Do they breed them here?

[A fight erupts. The fighters exchange a few kicks before Pudgy Guy #2 decides it's a good idea to kick Wolverine in the balls, so he does it. There's a loud metallic BANNG!]

Wolverine and Pudgy Guy #2 [in chorus]: Shit, that hurts!!!

Pudgy Guy #2: What was that?! Are your balls made of fucking iron or what?

Wolverine: Of course they are, dickhead. But that was a really, really bad idea!

Pudgy Guy #2: You mutant freak! [whips out a pen-knife]

Wolverine [sighs]: The things envy does to people. [sighs again] Almighty Alice knows I hate to do it! [holds out his fists; six blades come out of his knuckles with a SNICKT! sound] AAAAAHHHH!

Pudgy Guy #2 [blinks]: What?!

Wolverine: D'you think it feels good, you fat shit?! Well, now I'm mad! [smiles charmingly]

[Pudgy Guy #2 shrieks and runs off. The crowd goes a bit crazy before dissipating.]

Blonde Rogue [getting up from his knees and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand]: I missed something? [sees Wolverine with his claws out] Oh! [stares] Wow. A seriously good-looking man here! [stuffs a couple of tens in his back pocket] If a guy like that doesn't get me to Laughlin City, I don't know who will. Gotta try it.

***

[Yet more snowy expanses of Canada. Another narrow road. Wolverine drives an old truck in the general direction of Laughlin City (anybody know where it is, by the way?). The truck slows down and stops. Wolverine gets out to take a piss.]

Wolverine [taking a piss]: If I had known it's going to be so fucking cold, I'd have stayed away from this fucking movie! It's enough to make even iron balls freeze off!

[Light snoring from the trunk.]

Wolverine: Huh?! [hastily zips up his pants and races towards his truck]

[Wolverine pulls some rags from the top of the junk piled in his trunk and finds Blonde Rogue snuggled up in there.]

Wolverine: Now that's something new! Hey! [gives Blonde Rogue a punch on the shoulder]

Blonde Rogue [bounces to the other side of the trunk and wakes up]: Oww! What the fuck, man?!

Wolverine: You snore.

Blonde Rogue [blushing]: Shit. Really? Never had any idea.

Wolverine: What are you doing in my car? No, wait a minute. That was a really dumb question. You're catching a ride to Laughlin City but forgetting to buy a ticket, right?

Blonde Rogue: We're both mutants. We gotta help each other because everyone else hates us. Because we're different and stuff.

Wolverine: Yeah? I thought they just didn't like the way it feels when you get a chestful of claws. But whatever. You mutant? What can you do?

Blonde Rogue: I got a magic mouth. It can get anything going. Even a dead engine, but no-one ever lets me do it. I can also pout. Look. [pouts] And there's a ton of other things I can do, but it'll takes us ages to enumerate them all.

Wolverine [looks at Blonde Rogue with a newfound interest]: Seriously? Get into the cab. There's nothing to get going in that damned trunk.

[Blonde Rogue willingly scrambles out of the trunk and follows Wolverine to the driver's cab.]

Wolverine: Ah, wait a bit. What's your name?

Blonde Rogue [pursing his lips]: Sex is no reason to get acquainted. You can call me Blonde Rogue.

Wolverine: Too long, dude. And what kind of a name is Blonde Rogue?

[Now, we all know that Wolverines should call people 'bub', not 'dude'. All the normal Wolverines do so. However, Nikki was of a very peculiar Wolverine breed - the LA Wolverine. They call people 'dude', and 'dude' only. Now you know.]

Blonde Rogue: And what kind of a name is Wolverine?

Wolverine [blinks]: Why'd you call me that?

[Blonde Rogue points to the tattoo on Wolverine's arm saying WOLVERINE.]

Wolverine: Oh. Well, name's Nikki.

Blonde Rogue: Nikki? Big bad Wolverine's got a chick's name?!

Wolverine: You wanna walk?

Blonde Rogue: Well… [pokes his head into the cab; looks around; pokes it out and looks at the snow; looks at Wolverine appraisingly; sighs] No. Great truck, great name, great claws, whatever. It's just too damn cold here to be choosy. Oh, and my name's Vince.

[They both climb into the cab. Blonde Rogue stares at Wolverine's knuckles.]

Wolverine: Whatcha looking at, dude? Chinese Democracy?

Blonde Rogue: When they come out... does it hurt?

Wolverine: No, it makes me come right away. Of course it hurts, you blonde shithead. But it heals pretty quickly. I'm a quick healer. You could probably shoot me up with 100 CC, and I'd come back. But each time a wound heals it leaves a tattoo. [shows the knuckles]

Blonde Rogue [looking him over and seeing all the tats]: I'd say you've been kicked around a lot…

Wolverine [annoyed]: Listen, get down to work already. [starts the engine]

Blonde Rogue [sighs]: Alright… [settles down on the cab floor; gets down to work]

Wolverine [after a long pause]: Wow, dude…

Blonde Rogue [licking his lips]: You know, we probably shouldn't be doing it while you're driving…

Wolverine: Look, dude. I don't need advice on auto safety from…

[The truck hits a telephone pole. Wolverine, who has been driving without fastening his safety belt, is thrown out through the windshield and lands a few yards away from the truck. Blonde Rogue hits his head on the brake pedal.]

Blonde Rogue: Shit! [shakes up; breathes in and out] Iron balls… And there's something wrong with this guy's… bodily fluids. I'm drunk… I'm high… [tries to get up and finds out that his ankle is trapped in the ruins of the cab interior] I'm stuck!!! [manages to get up enough to look out] Oh-oh. Wolvie's fucked.

[A few yards away from the truck, Wolverine, lying in an unnatural pose and looking pretty dead, starts moving.]

Blonde Rogue: Huh?! [stares, blinks, screws his eyes, opens them, stares again, rubs them, stares again] Am I in the Dawn Of The Dead by some mistake?!

[Wolverine gets up. His face is unscathed, but there's a wound visible on his hand. In the next close-up, we can see it slowly close, heal and turn into a little image of a bass clef.]

Wolverine: Just don't ask me why it is a bass clef, OK? One of the very first ones healed into that WOLVERINE shit, and I have no idea why. But people still call me that. Doesn't this suck?

[Blonde Rogue in the ruined cab shifts nervously as Wolverine approaches.]

Wolverine: Dude, you okay?

Blonde Rogue: Yep. If we don't count the fact that you've just risen from the dead and I am stuck. Oh, and something there, in the back, has just caught fire.

Wolverine [heart-broken]: My JD stash! [suddenly freezes; his nostrils flare]

Blonde Rogue [worried]: What now?

Wolverine: Ssshh! I smell beer… I smell too much beer… Fuck that! [lets his claws out] Ow! That's why I take so many drugs…

[Suddenly a huge guy wrapped in fake furs leaps out of the roadside growth. That's Zakk the Sabertooth.]

Wolverine: Oh SHIT!!!

Sabertooth: AAARRRGHHH!!! I'll smash you like my favorite Les Paul!!! [hits Wolverine across the face with a baseball bat]

[Wolverine lands on the hood of his own truck. He's senseless. His claws slide back in.]

Blonde Rogue: Hey! Wake up! Wake the fuck up, you pansy! This fur guy is completely NOT my type! [struggles to get his ankle free] If only I could reach him, I'd wake him up…

[Sabertooth slowly approaches. Blonde Rogue shrieks in despair, looking back at the burning JD and turning to Sabertooth again.]

Blonde Rogue: Somebody! It's an action movie! High time for fucking HEROES!!!

[Two lean figures appear out of nowhere behind Sabertooth's back. One of them is average height, shorthaired, wearing an old visor and an expression of general righteousness. That's Jon the Cyclops. The other one is lanky, has long blond hair and a black cloak. That's Baz the Storm.]

Cyclops: Here we are!

[Storm opens his mouth and yells. The sound wave raises terrible wind, throwing snow all over Sabertooth, while Cyclops prepares the visor for eye-shooting.]

Sabertooth: Shit! That wasn't in my contract! [leaps back into the bushes and disappears]

[Cyclops and Storm grin and high-five each other.]

Storm: Man, was that cool!

Cyclops: Yo, we rock!

Blonde Rogue: Hey you, over there! I feel just awful to interrupt your conversation, but could you please do something before I burn alive here?

[Cyclops and Storm come up to the truck. Cyclops opens the cab door.]

Cyclops: Stuck.

Blonde Rogue: Thanks. I kinda noticed.

Cyclops: Do we blast the trap or the leg? The leg is easier to get…

Blonde Rogue [rolls his eyes]: Oh come on! Don't tell me a big talented guy like you can't get the trap now!

Cyclops [blinks]: He knows the right lines, huh? [blasts the stuff that trapped Blonde Rogue's ankle] There, baby.

[Storm offers Blonde Rogue a hand; the latter accepts and jumps out of the cab. Cyclops drags Wolverine off the hood.]

Cyclops: Ow, this man weighs a ton!

Blonde Rogue [snickers]: Too much iron. He's a heavy metal dude.

Storm: OK. It's cold here and my throat hurts. We're going home!

[Behind them, the truck blows up with a great sense of timing. It looks like 4th of July fireworks.]

***

[A dark cave-like room. A man in a superhero demon suit is polishing his platform boots. That's Gene the Tongueman. Sabertooth enters the room, all pissed.]

Tongueman [looks up]: Weren't you supposed to bring someone back with you?

Sabertooth: Oh shut up Gene. That line wasn't even written for you.

[Tongueman grins and sticks his tongue out. Sabertooth shudders and hurries on. He goes through a tunnel and enters an office-like room. A man sits at the table, strumming a banjo. He's got dark, graying hair, and is dressed in plain black clothes and a minstrel's hat. That's Ritchie, His Blackness.]

His Blackness: What happened?

Sabertooth [resentful]: Gene has stuck that tongue of his out on me again! That's not fair! We're on the same team, and he shouldn't…

His Blackness: Whoa. Hold a bit. I mean, why didn't you bring that mutant along?

Sabertooth: Ah. Some other freaks showed up. An awfully loud blonde and an eye-shooting guy. You had said nothing about them.

His Blackness: Ozzy.

Sabertooth: Yeah? I thought he was a bit older…

His Blackness: I mean they're Ozzy's guys, you dope. Shit, why am I even explaining stuff to you? Get out of here before I black you out. [musing] They know I made the first step… but that's all they know… but do they know?.. Ah, everything is oh so relative… Anyway, it's time for our little test. [gives an evil grin; gets up and, still strumming, walks out of the room]

***

[A large intensely lit room full of medical equipment. Wolverine is lying on an examination table. There's a slender redhaired guy in a white coat beside him. That's Axl, Dr. Rose.]

Dr. Rose: It's fucking impossible! He's so full of drugs I can practically smell it! We need to know the concentration… [takes a huge syringe and sticks it into Wolverine's arm]

[All of a sudden, Wolverine is awake and moving. He takes a wild leap, and - oops! - he's behind Dr. Rose, holding his neck in a choke grip.]

Wolverine: If there's one feeling I can recognize in delirium that's a needle in my arm! Where the hell am I?!

Dr. Rose [choked]: Easy, man! No-one is going to harm you… no-one can, anyway…

Wolverine [takes in the surroundings]: White coat… medical shit… psycho babble… Ahhhh! I'm in rehab again! NOWAY! [lets go of Dr. Rose's neck, storms out through the door]

[The door slides closed after him.]

Dr. Rose [looks at the door]: That's what I call a temper…

[A long corridor with shiny metallic walls. Wolverine moves through the corridor cautiously. Suddenly, he freezes, hearing voices in his head.]

Voice #1: Where is he going?

Voice #2: Where are you going?

Voice #3: Where am I going?

Wolverine [slightly irritated]: I know, I know. I'm hallucinating. That's my own fucked-up subconscious. Shut up, subconscious! I don't need to revise the whole conjugation.

[His subconscious shuts up and the voices stop. Wolverine nods and moves on. Soon he finds an elevator and goes to the upper level of the building he is in. It appears to be a big mansion, clean and tastefully - and expensively - decorated. As he moves along the wall, he discovers a door in it.]

Wolverine: A way out? Unlikely. But I should take every chance! REHAB! They'll dress me in a straight jacket again! [shudders, swings the door open and shoots in]

[He finds himself inside a large, sunlit office. There's a groups of people in there. Most of them are more or less pubescent kids dressed to various degrees of weirdness. However, one of them is an elderly person in a wheelchair. He's got dark, long hair, a long, tired face and bloodshot eyes behind lennonesque spectacles. He's wearing old jeans and a black T-shirt with a skull. That's Professor Ozzy.]

Professor: Ah, hi there, Nikki. You underage motherfuckers, outta here. And by Wednesday I want each and every one of you to know in detail the best way to decapitate a bat and be ready to demonstrate. That'll be all. Shoo!

[The kids scatter out of the classroom. Wolverine watches them leave, a bit stunned.]

Professor: I'm Professor Ozzy. [holds up a bottle] Care for a chaser?

Wolverine: You bet! [grabs the bottle] So this ain't a rehab. Where am I? What is this place?

Professor [proudly]: That's Ozzy's Rock School for Cool Mutant Kids!

Wolverine: What am I doing here? I ain't no kid!

Professor: Well, but you ARE cool. Nevermind. I don't know what you are doing here. At the moment it seemed a good idea not to leave you on the hood of a car ready to blow up, but hell, everyone makes mistakes.

Wolverine: Uh. Where's the blonde?

Professor: Blonde Rogue, you mean? Oh, he's OK. He's making himself at home. He already got going half the male population, 80 percent female population, and the old washing machine.

Wolverine: Sounds like him. Well, if everything's so peachy keen, then no-one will mind if I'm out of here, will they?

Professor: I personally wouldn't mind if you started shooting warheads out of your ass. But His Blackness wants you for some reason, and my main analyst tells me that sucks and is overall dangerous.

Wolverine: Your main anal what?..

[The door opens and Storm and Cyclops enter the room.]

Professor: Analyst. And here he is. Nikki, meet Jon. Also known as Cyclops.

[Cyclops holds out a hand.]

Wolverine [thinking]: *Analyst?! Holy shit. Whatever that means, one had better not touch it…* [doesn't respond to Cyclops's gesture]

Professor: And this is Sebastian. People call him Storm. We here call him Alarm Signal. These two saved your life, by the way. From Sabertooth, the fake fur fucker.

Wolverine [cracks up]: Sabertooth? Storm? Cyclops? Dude, that's inventive! You'd probably call me Claw if I let you!

Cyclops [perplexed]: You're not gonna let us?..

Wolverine [getting mad]: Anal… list.

[Wolverine turns to leave, but Cyclops is in the way. Wolverine grabs him.]

Wolverine: Psycho Clops or whatever, care to get out of my way?

Cyclops [with cold dignity]: You suck. Positive characters don't behave like that.

Wolverine: Who the fuck decided I'm positive? Don't I get a vote?!

Professor: Nikki. It began a long-ass time ago, didn't it? You live from fight to fight… from booze-up to booze-up… from orgy to orgy… and you never remember shit in the morning. In fact, you probably don't remember anything from the times before this narration began, huh?

Wolverine [whips around]: You saw this movie?!

Professor: No. I'm a psychic. Of a kind. When I'm drunk. And I'm always drunk. But I know one thing. If you stay here - as you are supposed to - you won't find any answers to any questions, but you'll have one hell of a time. Fights, conspiracies, murders, sex and violence. Well?

Wolverine [uncertainly]: And free booze?

Professor: Goes without saying.

Wolverine: I'm in!

to be continued...

 

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