Day 3: The Siege of Xavier's School for Gifted Students. Jesse Jackson and his coalition remain firmly encamped outside the gates of the school. They spent the day chanting, orating and giving interviews to the press. In fact, the whole thing is like one long press conference. Jackson is calling for boycotts and sanctions against the school because he seems to think we are repressing Storm because she's black. It's all ridiculous but I can't risk doing anything with all the media out there. And to make it worse, Storm was just out there making her own speech. I had the pleasure of watching it televised live on CNN.

"I was born in mother Africa, a child forsaken to poverty," she told the crowd. Many listeners shook their head in sympathy and said things like "Testify!" and "Preach on sister."

"And yet I was happy there in the birth place of civilization. I was an African Queen, respected among my people. And then the white man came along." There were actually hisses from the crowd at that!

"Charles Xavier. He came and took me from my home. He brought me to this place so that he could use me - to promote his own agenda." The audience started booing! I heard people say "slavery".

"And what does he give me in return?" Storm asked.

"I'll bet it's nothin'!" someone shouted.

"Am I rewarded for risking my life for his ends? Do I share in the ownership of what I create? Does he give any respect to the black nation? What do you think my brothers and sisters?" At that the crowd started booing louder.

"That's right. Nothing. Nothing! Not even the crumbs from Master's table!" The crowd was going absolutely wild at that point.

I reached out to Storm telepathically and asked her what this insanity was all about. What did she want?

"Weren't you listening?" I heard her think. "I want partial ownership of the school and of all merchandising rights." My heart skipped a beat.

"Storm, that's just not feasible. You know I have-"

"Then my good friend and savior Jesse and I shall set up a permanent camp here in front of the gates. Everyday we shall let the world know the truth about you and your plantation."

"The truth! This - this is blackmail!"

"Call it what you will but I shall have what I deserve, partner."

I sat there stunned for a moment, unable to come up with a response. "Oh, and Charles? Jesse gets a 15% agency fee."

Reluctantly I agreed to her terms. No sooner had I told her than Jesse announced that I had seen the error of my ways and had instituted dynamic new restitution policies to amend for all my years of bigotry and racism. He was now giving me his seal of approval as an African-American friendly business and he was calling for an end of the boycott. In just a few minutes his entire operation had packed up and was leaving. What a horrible, horrible experience.