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Notes: This is sort of an answer to Kielle's long ago "Just So"
challenge. I know it doesn't exactly work... I think. Erm. Um.
Anyway, I couldn't find my copy of Kipling... Disclaimer: Marvel owns Pete, Longshot and Gambit. The Brits own their museum. Bevy owns Dakota. Apologies to all Kipling fans.
How the Longshot was Armored Listen close, Oh Dear Beloved, as the tale is spun, of three heroes and their Drunken Exploits. They say there was a night that was like no other, as three friends journeyed the Pubs of London, carousing like mad and becoming quite tipsy. Dakota was the first to wonder about why they were currently slipping over the wall near the British Museum. Wisdom just shook his head and giggled. And then proceeded to clamber up the Longshot's back to his shoulders, so he could unlatch an upper storey window. Once it was open, he scrambled up and inside the building. There was the sound of various crashes and bangs, and then his head reappeared, along with a ladder. The ladder was, of course, a Contrivance of the Plot, so that our Heroes could proceed anon. Besides, Oh Dear Beloved, the Author wishes to not be bogged down in Logic. Entry into the mighty building was achieved and our heroes crept stealthily around on the second floor. Well, stealthy is relative. Since they didn't knock any cases down. Nor did they accidentally stop to christen the mummys. And rumours that Wisdom used a very old toilet to worship are greatly exagerated. Stealthy footsteps got them lost, until Longshot found a map some visitor had left on the floor. Then they proceeded quickly to the Medieval exhibits room. Once there, they wandered around and oohed and ahhed at the pretty jewels. And then they spotted the suits of armor. The Longshot stood next to one and tried to decide how he'd look in it. Wisdom decided solemnly that it was their duty to let Longshot try and express himself. Even if he wanted to run around in sequins and scarves. Dakota snickered and helped Wisdom remove the armor from its stand by dint of shoving it while the Longshot tried to understand why he'd want to wear such outlandish garb. The crash didn't achieve anything except deafening the three. They still proceeded to attempt to apply the pieces to the Longshot. Oh, Dear Beloved, the resulting mess on the floor and on the poor blond was indescribable. Several more suits of armor were cannibalised to create the result. It was as our intrepid drunken men were chortling over the result that the Museum's good security gaurds came upon them. A fight ensued. With much crashing and loud noises, the three escaped, leaving behind only the mess. And Dakota's shirt. A quick recce to another Pub had our heroes much happier. If not a little puzzled as to why Dakota's shirtlessness produced little comment. But then, they were drunk. Ish. Our heroes left the little Pub and went on their way to sleep. Or, staggered back to Wisdom's flat where they proceeded to get a rude awakening. There were policemen waiting for them, in regards to the fact that Wisdom's profession had... attracted some attention. A hasty discussion, a bribe, and the three staggered off to the hotel room the Longshot and Dakota were sharing. And, Oh Dear Beloved, our sore heroes slept the sleep of the innocent--which only one of them is. And when they awoke in the afternoon, they went to a gaming establishment, and played cards. It was here that our heroes were joined by another. The Gambit appeared and made short work of the bottle they had between them. And then he played cards with them. He won, of course. As the night wore on, the four began laughing more as they consumed more alcohol. Until, finally, they got around to discussing the events of the night before. Wisdom espoused that he couldn't remember them. The Longshot looked rueful as he admitted he only remembered some of them. But Dakota remembered them all. The Gambit had a good laugh about the Museum visit. Dakota grimaced and finally decided it was time to leave and sleep. He and the Longshot needed to leave in the early morning hours so they could make the airport in time to go home. And so ends this Tale. But where is the moral, you ask, Oh Dear Beloved? Why, it is here. "The man with the healing factor will remember the drunken night before." -=finis=- *chuckle* Don't kill me, I'm cute.
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