It’s been shown that Mystique (in her comic incarnation, at least), when her ability to focus is sufficiently thrown-off by illness, drugs, emotional shock, or othersuch concentration breakers, that her ability to shapeshift is disrupted, to the point that she can’t maintain a form, often shifting uncontrollably/unconsciously or even sporting features from multiple recently-assumed forms at once in a Picasso-esque jigsaw. Once I learned about that, I couldn’t help but wonder just what sort of awkward/amusing/embarassing/etc. situations might occur if this sort of problem occured to her Evo incarnation when she got drunk… and then I immediately thought of you. Take it away, Nutter!
There’s a million stories in this ‘burg. Many of ‘em you just plain wouldn’t believe.
I’ve seen some things.
Weird…
Things…
You wanna hear an example. Of course. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
It was late. Most of the regular barflies had gone home. Poured into cabs or thrown back into the gutter. The rest were sliding into that state where the world just fails to matter.
I was doing everything I could to give those bums the hint that they should leave when the door slammed open.
She looked like a classy dame in the beginning. Sharp and dangerous and the kind of woman who’s an extreme sport, if you get my drift. She ordered the hard stuff.
An extreme, extreme sport.
I could like her, but I had a home to go to and she was the only one paying. But she didn’t care about change, either; so I could stay technically open for however long she wanted to be my guest.
The crazy stuff happened after the third bottle. Girl can hold her liquor.
Or, should I say, the thing that looked like a girl could hold her liquor. Its liquor. I don’t even know.
She started… oozing. Without dripping. Her features just sort of melted and rippled. Even her clothing got that ‘tired candle’ look. Parts of her started changing around. One hoof. A tail. One wing. Bits and pieces of famous people. I shit you not. And her voice… well…
You know that thing they do on youtube where they make some song sound demonic? Like that, but live. Happening right the-get-the-hell-away-from-me in front’a me.
Freakin’ disturbing ya know?
And then - swear to God - she/it/whatever looks at me and says, "See somethin’ you like, handsome?"
If I wasn’t already celibate, I’d have turned.
"Naw," I said, cool as a cat. "Just watchin’ the drinks. Wouldn’t want anyone takin’ advantage."
Apparently, I’m too sweet to live.
Whaddayamean what’d I do? I kept the drinks coming until her friend came and got her. None of my business what wants a drink in this dirty town.