I don't think I like this whole trick or treat thing that Marie's got going on. She says that it's all part of the season, but I'd be willing to bet that not every mutie in the mansion went knocking on strangers' doors when they were younger.
It isn't that I don't like Halloween, it's that I just don't see the point.
Here we are, sitting in the middle of the rec room floor and Marie's got all this candy pooled in front of her. She's been checking the wrappers for pieces that've been opened. She says they might be poisoned or something. If some sucker were gonna poison the candy, you'd think they'd wrap the gumdrop back up the way it's supposed to be.
"Logan, hand me that bag, would ya?"
The sack she's reaching for is half full of sweets that have to be sorted through and checked over for safety. It'll take at least another half hour before she's got all this shit done, and I don't think I'm gonna last another ten minutes at this rate.
The kids we took trick or treating got sent up to bed after baths to wipe the paint from their goblin and witch faces. There were only seven or eight of `em. Real little kids, too. The little girl that Marie carried halfway home musta been five or six. They just keep getting younger every year.
"Move this bag over there, please?"
For the past hour she's been ordering me around like I'm some kind of servant here to take care of her every need. Of course that's only partly true, but I shouldn't be down here shoveling candy for the kids. I should be upstairs doing something productive like watching hockey or drinking beer.
"-and then we can go upstairs, okay?"
Whoa, she was actually talking to me that time. And damned if I didn't miss half of what she said.
"Yeah, Baby. Sounds good." That should hold her over.
Yeah, she's going back to sorting that candy. Only two more bags to go and then we can get to the treating. I already been through the trick. The whole out and about with the kids was that part.
The kids, those little monsters. Still can't figure out how we got suckered into taking them around the neighborhoods. She mentioned something about Chuck thinkin' we were the best suited candidates for the kids' safety or some bullshit like that. I never once had a say-so in all this. One minute I was sittin' on the bed having a beer and the next I was holding hands with some four year old dressed like something outta that Lord of the Kings movie. You know, the one with Frobo or whatever his name is. The midgets.
Marie said she thought it was cute that I was taking the kids trick or treating. Then she said that I shouldn't be so angry about it because at least I was gonna be with her. I gotta give that one to her.
But I couldn't just take the kids from house to house, no, I had to help the kids get all cleaned up and in bed after we got back. That was more work than a level seven Danger Room session, lemme tell ya. Just wrestling the one in the ghost outfit out of his sheet was a workout.
Marie got all the easy-to-manage kids. I got stuck with the boys.
"Almost done," she says with a grin.
If she's expecting some kinda reply to that I'm not gonna give her one. She shoulda been `almost done' with all this shit two hours ago. I'm getting old, it's way past my bedtime. And I can't go up there by myself, I gotta have someone to tuck me in. Of course, I do more of the tucking than she ever would, but I'm the Wolverine and that's expected.
Ah hell, I can hear one of the kids walkin' down the hall. It smells like the little girl that dressed up as an angel. She had real wings to go with her costume, too. Kinda worried us all when she started trying to lift herself up off the ground. Marie said that the little one had been trying to fly for a couple of weeks, but her wings just didn't have the muscle power that they needed yet.
"Mister Logan," I heard my name called in her little girl voice.
"Yeah, kid?"
"Can I have a drink of water?"
Marie's grinning like an idiot behind that curtain of hair that's blocking my view of her face. I'll give her something to really grin about later if she's lucky.
Pushing myself off the floor, I began to walk toward the hallway. A tiny pair of hands gripping my hand stop me dead in my tracks. She wants me to pick her up.
Yeah, that's definitely Marie laughing.
I gotta suck up my pride this time and just deal with it. Besides, Angel is giving me watery little girl eyes, and Marie's pulled that enough times. It's a weakness. These girls are going to be the death of me, that's for sure.
"Come on," I say, hoisting her up in my arms.
There's gonna be a whole lot of yelling if anyone sees me carrying one of the kids down the hall. I'm the Wolverine, not the babysitter. And besides, Marie would frown down on me if I punched someone in front of the kid. Nothing's worth Marie being angry or disappointed with me, except maybe punching One-Eye in the face. Yeah, that's worth just about anything.
Ah, here we are, the kitchen. It's deserted, too. So onto the glasses, one glass with water coming right up.
"Here." She sips at the water slowly until it's half gone.
"All done," she smiles.
The second I walk outta that kitchen the angel's got her head laying on my shoulder like I'm some kinda pillow. Lemme tell you what, kid, they don't make pillows out of adamantium.
"Thank you, Mister Logan," she's saying while I'm laying her down on her flowery bed.
"Yeah."
Ten minutes later the angel is asleep and I'm standing in the doorway, making sure everything else is alright in the room. That's where Marie catches me.
"They're fine, Logan. Let's go to bed."
"Yeah," I nod. "Let's go."
So I like kids, big deal. No one else knows that, no one else needs to know that. I'm the Wolverine, remember? The Wolverine isn't a babysitter, he isn't a father-figure, he isn't even the uncle-type. He's tough and mean and would just as soon punch you as look at you.
Unless of course you're Marie, but she knows all these things already.
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