Post by Iceman on Jul 12, 2006 20:42:26 GMT -5
Bobby hated the fact that he was an early bird. That sometimes, even when he’d stayed up until a.m. hours, he still woke up at eight or even seven. And he would still be tired, but wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.
This was one of those mornings. He’d finally given up on trying to go back to sleep, and he’d rolled out of bed. He’d pulled on a pair of athletic pants over his boxers and then made his way downstairs. It was still mostly quiet; it seemed not many were up yet. He saw a few people on his way to the den, but no one stopped to talk and neither did he.
When he reached the den, he walked around the couch, cutting it a bit too close to the end table and knocking into it. It tipped enough that everything on it began to slide off. Grabbing the magazines before they slipped over the edge, he steadied the table and put everything back in place. Except for the TV remote, which he grabbed and used to turn on the TV as he flopped down across the couch. The screen flashed to life, showing Regis and Kelly sitting behind their desk in front of the painted backdrop of New York City. Or…Wherever. He’d only ever paid attention to the show when someone worthwhile was on it. Like that Halle Berry—Now there was a modern-day work of art. He changed the channel.
“You just sold Tommy a baseball card that was worth three hundred dollars!!!”
Bobby cringed at the next show that came on. Full House. When he’d been in the hospital recovering from John’s infamous loss of control in the Danger Room, which had ended up with Bobby being set on fire, he’d been forced to endure a weekend marathon of Full House. It tended to make him a little bit sick every time he’d seen it since. He quickly changed it again and began flipping channels every few seconds.
Western. “You git out here, you no-good lazy horsethief!” Not his thing. American Pie Band Camp. “I once knew a young man who did an incredible thing with a pie tin…” Funny, but it was too early. News. “--the good citizens of America that NovaTeX is ready to begin distribution of the cure, taking-“ Bor—What?!? Bobby went back to the channel as quickly as he could get his finger on the down button of the remote.
When the newsroom came back on the screen, a newscaster was nodding. "And where will this cure be available from, for those mutants that wish to accept it?"
Bobby sat up straight, his eyes glued on the screen, unblinking. He watched the rest of what was said about it, before they changed topics. By the end of it, he was frowning at the screen as though insulted. As soon as they began talking about the latest terrorist cell actions, Bobby stood and moved for the door. He walked out of the room and into the large hallway, looking left and right for anyone who might know more about this storage of ‘the cure'.
This was one of those mornings. He’d finally given up on trying to go back to sleep, and he’d rolled out of bed. He’d pulled on a pair of athletic pants over his boxers and then made his way downstairs. It was still mostly quiet; it seemed not many were up yet. He saw a few people on his way to the den, but no one stopped to talk and neither did he.
When he reached the den, he walked around the couch, cutting it a bit too close to the end table and knocking into it. It tipped enough that everything on it began to slide off. Grabbing the magazines before they slipped over the edge, he steadied the table and put everything back in place. Except for the TV remote, which he grabbed and used to turn on the TV as he flopped down across the couch. The screen flashed to life, showing Regis and Kelly sitting behind their desk in front of the painted backdrop of New York City. Or…Wherever. He’d only ever paid attention to the show when someone worthwhile was on it. Like that Halle Berry—Now there was a modern-day work of art. He changed the channel.
“You just sold Tommy a baseball card that was worth three hundred dollars!!!”
Bobby cringed at the next show that came on. Full House. When he’d been in the hospital recovering from John’s infamous loss of control in the Danger Room, which had ended up with Bobby being set on fire, he’d been forced to endure a weekend marathon of Full House. It tended to make him a little bit sick every time he’d seen it since. He quickly changed it again and began flipping channels every few seconds.
Western. “You git out here, you no-good lazy horsethief!” Not his thing. American Pie Band Camp. “I once knew a young man who did an incredible thing with a pie tin…” Funny, but it was too early. News. “--the good citizens of America that NovaTeX is ready to begin distribution of the cure, taking-“ Bor—What?!? Bobby went back to the channel as quickly as he could get his finger on the down button of the remote.
When the newsroom came back on the screen, a newscaster was nodding. "And where will this cure be available from, for those mutants that wish to accept it?"
Bobby sat up straight, his eyes glued on the screen, unblinking. He watched the rest of what was said about it, before they changed topics. By the end of it, he was frowning at the screen as though insulted. As soon as they began talking about the latest terrorist cell actions, Bobby stood and moved for the door. He walked out of the room and into the large hallway, looking left and right for anyone who might know more about this storage of ‘the cure'.
