Post by Shadowcat on Aug 23, 2006 18:40:04 GMT -5
On the radio, you couldn't tell when a woman named Madelyne Pryor looked eerily similar to - well, to be fair, exactly the same as - a woman who'd been around more or less your whole non-grade-school life. All Kitty could say about the whole Kyle Kennedy versus Bugman thing was that it seemed like one somebody had spent way too much time reading comics as a kid and the other somebody really needed a better nickname before he tried to make a point on national TV and radio networks. The good guy, she'd learned, was always the one with the cooler nickname; she was personally convinced that this was at least half the reason the X-Men had codenames. Other than anonymity, of course. But they could always use numbers if they wanted to be truly anonymous.
Kitty's mind was actually somewhat at ease for the first long stretch since Baltimore. She'd had strange dreams that night; she'd been in English class, or something, and John had been there turoring her, except that he'd turned into a dragon, and from that point on it got fuzzy, except she quite clearly remembered all the windows breaking and having to hit him with her textbook, and Bobby was wearing a dress.
She still hadn't figured that one out.
But for now, she was humming completely tunelessly along to the radio - something old by Paul Simon, which was what had followed after the news report about "Guardian" and then an argument between one of the country stars who'd married a famous actress captured on the red carpet. She thought, oddly, it had been about mackerel.
"Seein' me and Julio down by the school-yard," Kitty murmured amelodically, the only line she knew that wasn't odd squeaking behind the guitar bridge.
She was making a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich. PB for the carbs, grape jelly for the quick fruit sugar. She thought she might go on a run or something. Illicitly, she licked her peanut butter knife. She'd burn it off anyway, right?
The song turned over and Kitty began singing along with more spirit and even less tone, since she couldn't hear anyone approaching the kitchen and she actually knew this one.
"Ain't no moun-tain high enough, ain't no vall-ey low enough..."
All things considered, it was a decent 10:30 AM.
Kitty's mind was actually somewhat at ease for the first long stretch since Baltimore. She'd had strange dreams that night; she'd been in English class, or something, and John had been there turoring her, except that he'd turned into a dragon, and from that point on it got fuzzy, except she quite clearly remembered all the windows breaking and having to hit him with her textbook, and Bobby was wearing a dress.
She still hadn't figured that one out.
But for now, she was humming completely tunelessly along to the radio - something old by Paul Simon, which was what had followed after the news report about "Guardian" and then an argument between one of the country stars who'd married a famous actress captured on the red carpet. She thought, oddly, it had been about mackerel.
"Seein' me and Julio down by the school-yard," Kitty murmured amelodically, the only line she knew that wasn't odd squeaking behind the guitar bridge.
She was making a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich. PB for the carbs, grape jelly for the quick fruit sugar. She thought she might go on a run or something. Illicitly, she licked her peanut butter knife. She'd burn it off anyway, right?
The song turned over and Kitty began singing along with more spirit and even less tone, since she couldn't hear anyone approaching the kitchen and she actually knew this one.
"Ain't no moun-tain high enough, ain't no vall-ey low enough..."
All things considered, it was a decent 10:30 AM.
