Author’s Note: This is just a little schpele I’ve had in my head for some time now. I NEEDED to practice writing in first person. I’ve been dreading it for awhile now; but I think I have Mortimer’s character down pat- and it should be easy. If not, feel free to flame. I like flames. But I like good reviews better. THE SPELLING IS ON PURPOSE! I have it typed out so it looks like Mort is actually speaking instead of writing his story. Not quite sure when this takes place, but as of yet, he’s not involved with the Brotherhood. It is set after Alkali Lake, I suppose; but Toad hasn’t joined back up with Mags. Got it? Good.

DISCLAIMER: If X-Men was mine, I would make sure that some of the characters (stares pointedly at a certain white haired little…) would stay dead. Don’t sue. I’m still working off a debt to my parents for buying a special edition of LOTR.

P.S. HOORAY FOR GOING OVER KILL ON A CERTAIN TYPE OF FANFIC! WEEEEE! Did I just say that out loud, I wonder? I must have cheetos now!

Chapter One

Seven months. I dun’ think I’d ever spent that much time on anythin’ so small. It was abou’ the size of a wristwatch- looked like one too. I’ was small, inconspicuous. No one in their right minds would think it were’ somthin’ more than a digital clock.

Tha’ was the whole genius of it though. So much technology fit in to a tiny little casing. I think I did a better job a’ it than that blue fuzz-ball over a’ the X-Geek’s place. It was water proof up to 500 meters, and shorted out only when it’s frequencies were interrupted, which I foun’ very unlikely. In hin’sight I suppose I should’a been more careful. But I’d been a bleedin’ shut-in all my years, and now I found a way t’ actually go outside without stares and gun barrels pointin’ at my head.

I had an image inhibitor. Th’ blue ape- known as Henry McCoy t’ the common public, created one for ‘imself and that annoyin’ little elf boy about a year back. It ran on bat’ries, however, and was complet’ly unreliable. Mine’s much better. But tha’s only to be expected. Can’t really assume as much from a man who spends ‘alf his time buddying up to people who’d rather see ‘im as a fur rug than alive. Mine runs on radio waves. Don’ bother to ask m’ to explain it- I doubt yer simple little mind could handle it, and I’d be goin’ on about the mechanics of it all day. I migh’ get just annoyed enough t’ kill ye, mate, and we don’ want that.

I did somthin’ I’d become rather unaccustomed to doin’ in the years of m’ life- I delib’rately looked in to a mirror. Rather shaky for a person like me. Th’ named me “Toad” for a reason. Don’ got the best mug ‘round these parts. I pressed th’ button on the left side of the watch- and I became a completely different person. Wasn’ ready for it I guess. Kinda’ shockin’ to see wha’ I coulda’ looked like if life hadn’t screwed me over so bad.

I looked like one’a the normals. A human. I actually passed ‘fer normal. Pinky skin, brown hair, blue eyes, the whole package. I even fixed it so m’ little froggy teeth looked reg’lar. I’ was kinda nice.

Welcome change, y’might say. Bu’ I should’a known not t’ go out yet. I’ was a Thursday. I’d never really gotten the hang ‘o Thursdays.

Another thing I was quite unaccustomed t’ doin’ was walkin’ in to a nightclub without m’ hood securely yanked over that little green head o’ mine. No’ tonight. I celebrated m’ new freedom in normal club-type clothes (or wha’ I hoped to be club-type clothes. By the looks I got from somma’ the birds in there, I guess I got it right…).

Th’ bouncer let me in wi’v out an ID check or any questionin’ looks. Besides for th’ fact I was getting a ‘eadache from all the cologne fumes, it seemed like I was gonna’ have a nice firs’ night as a normal. Unfortunate, isn’ it, that I always seem to be wrong?