Logan pulled the bike up to the gate at Xavier’s School and peered fuzzily at that buttons on the security pad. He carefully and deliberately punched in the code that would allow him ingress to the sacred grounds of Mutant High.
He laughed tipsily at the thought. He mentally whistled through his teeth. Damn he’d had a lot of beer tonight. He was actually drunk.
He’d parked in the lot of The Auger Inn over eight hours ago. A huge sign hanging from the front of the building touted not only the availability of McSorley’s Ale but also $5.00 pitchers of green beer. Christ on a crutch, he’d thought, not another freakin’ holiday!
He both hated and loved drinking holidays like St. Patrick’s Day.
He hated them because people who would never dream of setting foot the kinds of bars he usually frequented came slithering out of the woodwork for cheap green beer and ‘ambiance.’ An amused snort escaped him at the thought. Ambiance! The only ambiance The Auger Inn possessed was a result of the mud created on the floor by the combination of spilled beer, layers of dirt and saw dust.
He loved them because he could drink non-stop! A fifty-dollar bill on the bar had indicated to the bartender to serve up the McSorley’s and keep it coming until told otherwise.
Damn! The place had been so green. Everywhere he turned he saw green. Green Budweiser promotional shamrocks hung over the bar, people were clad in all manner of green clothing and cheap green beer flowed like water. The color reminded him too much of Toad and it had annoyed the fuck out of him. He drank harder!
Two hours and two dozen McSorleys’ later, Logan was beginning to catch a decent buzz. Even the sound of drunken revelers singing terrible off-key renditions of “Danny Boy” and the constant programming of “The Unicorn Song” on the jukebox was barely enough to ruin his mellow mood.
He’d been happily enjoying the view of a busty blonde bent over the pool table, her ‘goodies’ barely contained by the green “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” tank top she wore, when a beer-fueled altercation intruded on his blissful alcohol and lust induced daze.
He’d nonchalantly strolled over to the wall rack that held the pool cues, selected one of suitable weight, cracked the participants soundly on their heads, reseated himself and began getting the beers in once again!
He’d staggered out half an hour ago when they’d finally run out of Mc Sorley’s and driven his drunk ass back to school. Good thing he had a helmet for a skull. If he hit any trees doing 60 miles an hour it would be the tree that would be receiving last rites and not him!
He was just about to ascend the stairs from the garage into the mansion when he heard rustling and whispering in the bushes outside.
“C’mon gimme a boost so I can reach it!”
“Geez, Johnny, watch your feet, I plan on fathering children one day!”
“Mes amies, wouldn’t it just be easier to go through de door?”
Logan sniffed. Hmmm. Gumbo, Popsicle Boy and the Human Cigarette Lighter. What were they doing out here at this time of night? He wondered.
He crept quietly back out of the garage and peered around the corner of the building. Apparently they were trying to sneak back into school by way of the kitchen window and not having much success. Could have something to do with the fact that they’re rat-assed drunk, Logan snickered. He watched for a few more minutes as the icicle kid tried to give the fire hazard another boost to the window. The end result was Drake dropped Allerdyce and they both fell over onto Le Beau.
The three lay in a heap of arms and legs and indulged in recrimination.
“For cryin’ out loud, Bobby! Couldn’t you even hold me still for half a minute?”
“Put a lid on it, you weigh a ton.”
“Mon confreres, if you had simply let Gambit pick de lock on de basement door we would not have to go t’rough dis farce.”
The two younger boys turned on the Cajun.
“Put a sock in it, Le Beau!”
Remy looked suitably indignant and removed an imaginary piece of lint from his ever-present trench coat.
Logan strolled out of the shadows and three sets of barely focused eyes traveled comically up from his boots to his face.
“Close yer mouths. Yer catching flies!” Logan growled. The three boys scrambled and practically tripped over each other trying to get to their feet. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud at the sight. Instead he rolled his eyes. “So these are the future X-Men? Ya can’t even climb through a kitchen window.” He clucked his tongue in mock distress.
“What the hell’re you three doing out here at this time of night anyway? It’s way past lights out!” He barked.
All three boys started stammering at once.
“Well, sir it’s like this…” “Night bivouac, Wolverine…” “Gambit t’ought he heard Rogue calling his name…”
Logan weaved slightly as he peered at them. He was still drunk but sobering rapidly. These three on the other hand, well they could barely remain upright.
“Can it! I know what you were doing. Don’t you think I can smell the beer on ya? You snuck out for a St. Patrick’s Day celebration and now yer trying to get back into the mansion without Cyclops finding ya.” He was about to make a mental note to kick the ass of whoever was supposed to be on security detail and then remembered it was him. Oh well.
He paced back and forth in front of them. “What am I gonna do with you? You think I should turn you into Cyclops?” Three horrified faced looked back at him. “The Professor?” Gasps of horror.
He was completely sober now and not happy about it.
He stopped short and scowled at the boys.
“I know. You all do the Riverdance for me in honor of the holiday and I promise I won’t tell your girlfriends you’ve been sneaking out behind their backs.”
They started to protest but Logan cut them off.
“I could probably wake Jean up and have Cyke out here within five minutes if you’d rather take your chances…”
“No, no!” Bobby Drake spoke up. “I think we can manage a little Irish dancing rather than face Mr. Summers.”
John smacked him on the arm. “Bobby, when was the last time you defrosted that brain of yours, buddy?”
Gambit was shaking his head violently. “Gambit don’t do no sissy Riverdance. Not even for the Wolverine. You wan’ go get Rogue out de bed and see some Zydeco two-step, den Remy be happy to oblige but he refuse to prance around like Lucky the leprechaun just to get out of a little detention.”
Logan reached over and clapped the young man on the back. “That’s mighty admirable there, Gumbo, what with Spring Break coming up and all. I’m sure Cyke could find plenty for you to do around here while your friends are whooping it up in Ft. Lauderdale. Rogue might be a little disappointed o’ course but I’ve seen her new bathing suit and I’m sure there’ll be some nice kid down there to help here get over it quickly.”
Logan had to bit back another chuckle as the Cajun’s eyes went wide as saucers.
“Umm, Logan, sir,” John Allerdyce stepped in. “Could you give us a moment to discuss this please?’
“Sure thing, kid.” Logan turned so they wouldn’t see him smirking.
Damned kids. He could care less if they snuck out to go drinking but they put him in a really bad position by letting themselves get caught. After all, he was the Big Bad Wolverine. When he growled, students cowered. How could he let this infraction slide without some kinda punishment and still maintain his reputation? But narcing on them to One-Eye just went so against his grain…
John walked over to him. “Ok, we’ll do it,” he said through gritted teeth.
Logan pressed his lips together. Control, Logan, control, he chanted to himself. He took a few deep breaths and called on every Japanese meditation technique he’d ever known, positive it was the only way he was going to make it through the spectacle of three blottoed 20-year-olds trying to do Irish Step Dancing.
He stepped back and crossed his arms. “I’m waiting.”
The three miserable boys looked sheepishly at each other. Bobby started to tentatively shuffle his feet along the grass, followed reluctantly by the other two. Within seconds they were bouncing around like mutant dervishes on the school lawn and Logan was positive he was going to rupture something from holding in the laughter
Abruptly however Bobby stopped dancing and doubled over in front of Logan. The other two stopped figuring if their friend who got them into this mess wasn’t going to dance then why should they.
Bobby groaned and clutched his stomach.
“Umm, Logan…I don’t feel so good…”
Now where had he heard that before? Oh Jesus H. Christmas! No!
In the blink of an eye the Drake kid was liberating his load of green Budweiser all over Logan’s new boots along with every other green thing he’d eaten that day, including the green bagels the cook had made the lunch sandwiches on.
When he was done the kid fell to his knees.
His friends were torn between the need for self-preservation and their loyalty. Fear keep them rooted to their spots as they warily eyed Logan, trying to gauge what his reaction would be.
He looked at them with narrowed eyes. “Get him the hell out of my sight,” he growled.
His tone of voice galvanized them into action. Taking Bobby under each arm they lead him around to the back door, certain that anything Cyclops could do to them wouldn’t be half as bad as whatever the Wolverine now had in mind.
When the door had shut behind the three boys Logan heard laughter erupt from somewhere over his head. He peered into the dim light and saw Scott and Jean’s heads hanging out of a second story window close by. Even with the glasses Logan could see that Scott was laughing so hard tears were rolling down his cheeks. Jean couldn’t even speak for lack of breath.
Scott wiped his face. “You might want to hose off before you come in Logan! Bobby puked up a lot of stuff!” His head disappeared back into the window and then reappeared a second later. “Oh and we’ll have to talk tomorrow about why you were out drinking at The Auger Inn when you were supposed to be monitoring security.”
Kiss my shamrock, Cyke, Logan thought to himself before heading for the hose.