Author's Note: Sorry it's taken so long to get the next one out. People keep expecting me to have a life outside of the computer. *snort* What's that all about, anyway? Sheesh ...

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The Xavier Mansion Diaries: Logan

by Troll Princess

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DAY ONE

Cigars: 3. Alcohol units: Was not aware I was supposed to be counting. Definitely don't have enough fingers and toes to make *that* worthwhile.

Beat the s*** out of twelve truckers, two construction workers, a nun, two orphans, and a midget. Oh, yeah. Life is good.

DAY TWO

Cigars: 4 (V. good) Alcohol units: Still not counting, but as second tap from the left now named after me, cannot be good.

Beat the s*** out of fourteen truckers, three construction workers, a rodeo clown, three postal workers, and David Hasselhoff. Have no idea what David Hasselhoff was doing in Canada, but can assure you that his chest not half as hairy or manly as mine. Go, me!

Also, have picked up strange skittish girl with serious attraction for yours truly. Girl obviously swept off her feet by near-slaughter of barroom bully and attempt to ditch her in middle of nowhere in meteorologically inappropriate outfit. Cannot blame her one bit, as serious attraction to yours truly a sign of consciousness in forty-seven states.

LATER

V. bad news, as have been attacked by title character from lame late-80s TV series with Linda Hamilton. No wonder he's pissed, as Sci-Fi Channel not even showing his reruns anymore.

Maybe if I play dead, he'll go away.

DAY THREE

Yay! Have played dead, and am now positive that hairy behemoth gone for good.

Either that, or hairy behemoth the person currently licking my chest.

Not a complaint or anything, just an observation.

DAY FOUR

Ugh. Unconsciousness *boring*. I Spy and Twenty Questions impossible to play alone and with eyes shut. No wonder I don't do this more often.

Wonder how long normal people stay unconscious. At least until the person giving them tongue baths stops, right?

DAY FIVE

That's it. Cannot possibly understand why anyone would stay in a coma, even with the tongue baths. Unfortunately, have woken up to find myself in strange mansion full of geeky mutants. Fortunately, got to take advantage of sudden awakening to grope sexy redhead.

Okay, granted, more of a choke than a grope, but have made worse introductions in the past, so should be having sex with hot doctor in no time. Woohoo!

LATER

V. bad news, as sexy redhead engaged to uptight nerd being devoured from the head down by rabid Viewmaster. Have no idea what she sees in him, as great slurping vacuum where his personality should be currently sucking all of the air out of the room.

LATER

Am totally confused, as personal tongue bath in hallway greeted with fascinated, hypnotized stares. Cannot possibly understand why, as frequency of tongue baths while playing dead sure sign of it being most popular pasttime in this stupid place.

DAY SIX

Argh! Stabbed Rogue while in midst of horrible nightmare and am now unconscious. *Again*. Am really starting to regret ever meeting these geeks at all, as falling into a coma and waking up half-naked starting to become a bad habit.

However, cannot really blame anyone for that last bit, as am definitely sexiest beast in this building. Go, me!

LATER

Ack! Awoke to find Professor peeking under bedsheets appreciatively. Would ask why, but not sure I want to know the answer. Besides, rampant testosterone running through my veins bound to make anyone do crazy things.

DAY SEVEN

Am questioning entire meaning of life, as could have sworn everyone out to get me and me alone. However, elderly coot passed up my hairy chest and rippling muscles and abducted Rogue instead. Have no idea why, as am definitely sexier than Rogue and less likely to cause painful death after getting to third base.

As if that weren't bad enough, entire mansion smells like day-old McRib sandwich. May go after Rogue against everyone else's wishes simply to get fresh air and keep from yacking all over the foyer.

DAY EIGHT

Am thoroughly disgusted right now, as bigoted senator has melted in med-lab while Storm held his hand. Am trying to keep straight face, but constant thought of "Melts in your mouth, not in your hand" has me dissolving into girlish giggles every time Storm walks into room.

However, in spite of girlish giggles, am still most manly person in mansion. V. good!

DAY NINE

Oh, come on! Obviously not bad enough that Rogue abducted to be turned in really cutesy Energizer battery, as have only been in Statue of Liberty ten minutes and have already been attacked by apparently oxygen-deprived naked supermodel and that stupid Sci-Fi Channel reject again.

Would blame the whole thing on my raging masculinity, but unfortunately appears to be attempt by sidekicks to keep me and the geek patrol away from old psychotic fogey.

Don't understand why, since fogey not even half as manly as me.

Hmph. Personally, starting to think blue chick more manly than old fogey.

No, seriously.

DAY TEN

Ha! Have found new way to get Jean to *have* to touch me, as am now on my third bout of unconsciousness in two weeks.

Good news: Jean touched parts of me that I'm positive haven't been touched on brainy boyfriend in months.

Bad news: Was inserting catheter at the time.

DAY ELEVEN

V. good news, as have left mansion to go on grand adventure to find past. Would stay longer, but not about to go for world record for number of comas in shortest amount of time. Also, would like to keep a shirt on for more than five minutes.

Have taken Scott's bike, since would not be surprised if the car in "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" has seen the light of day more than this thing has.

DAY TWELVE

Have arrived at Alkali Lake after only four hours on motorcycle. Oh, yeah. May *never* give motorcycle back at this rate.

Considering possible hint to mysterious past actually frozen wasteland, may need to go on an extended road trip to make myself feel better. V.v. good idea, indeed!

DAY FOURTEEN

V. bad news, as arrived at Disney World only to find that tea cup ride shut down for repairs. Am awash in despair, as broken tea cup ride means having to go on "It's a Small World" ride twice.

DAY SEVENTEEN

Spit off Empire State Building. Old wives's tale about spit from Empire State Building hitting pedestrians obviously untrue --

Hey, what was that scream for?

FIVE MINUTES LATER

Um, forget I said anything about spitting off Empire State Building.

DAY TWENTY-FIVE

Mall of America not nearly as big as everyone says. Nearly bought Rogue a "My sworn protector went to find his past and all I got was an unrequited crush and this lousy T-shirt" top, but as long slogan means shirt roughly large enough to house Barnum and Bailey's circus, decided to leave shirt in store.

DAY THIRTY

Have returned to mansion only to find Jean groping Scott, Rogue groping obviously suicidal "boyfriend," and Ororo racing off to hopefully grope public menace #1.

Definitely must have been away too long if effects of Wolverine-level manliness have already worn off. Not a problem, however, as have only been in the mansion twenty minutes and have already been offered enough long, involved tongue baths to keep me clean until Christmas.

LATER

Ack! May not be most manly beast in mansion anymore, as during invasion of mansion by armed soldiers, deposited unconscious kid with student roughly the size of Montana. Student offered to help, but politely declined him, as my testosterone let out inadequate whimper and cowered in fear at the sight of him.

ONE HOUR LATER

Have escaped soldiers invading mansion in Scott's car with Rogue, ice-making boyfriend and snotty sidekick. Ha! Am definitely most masculine in car --

Argh! N'Sync?! May stab claws directly through radio, as fruity boy band music like kryptonite to my delicate testosterone. Can already feel my five o'clock shadow sinking back into my skin in abject fear.

No wonder brainy nerd doesn't ever smell like aftershave, as favorite music used as aural depilatory.

DAY THIRTY-ONE

Great. Have been shot in forehead by idiot rookie cop. Can only be grateful he didn't shoot me in the chest, as lose far too many perfectly good shirts that way.

LATER

Woohoo! Jean overwhelmed by my obvious sexual superiority. Currently crawling all over me. V. good news --

Hey. What the hell are these scars?

FIVE MINUTES LATER

May never stop gagging, as Jean actually Mystique in disguise. Stupid blue beanpole also turned into Storm, Rogue, and Stryker. Can only be grateful that she wasn't still making out with me when Stryker popped up.

Ewww. Now have nasty mental image that may *never* go away. As campsite far away from nearest liquor store, may have to resort to guzzling airplane fuel straight from the tank.

DAY THIRTY-TWO

V. good news, as creepy female knockoff of me filled full of adamantium and left to get gross and rotten at bottom of giant bathtub, and Stryker currently chained to concrete wall outside plane. Heard dirty rumor there was battle elsewhere in drippy old dam, but can't possibly be very important as has nothing to do with search into mysterious past.

DAY THIRTY-THREE

All right, that's it! Totally understand that jerk's hottie fiancee is dead, but Scott's constant blubbering getting incredibly annoying. Also, sight of his quivering, pouty bottom lip strangely hypnotic.

TWO HOURS LATER

Wow! Can now understand Jean picking Scott over me, as geeky twerp apparently sex-crazed band geek in disguise.

Granted, has not brought up any naughty deeds done with flutes, but is only a matter of time as kinky bastard's proposed almost evrything else --

Hey.

Is that tapioca I smell?