As you may have heard by now, I was arrested yesterday. Fortunately Storm came and bailed me out of jail. The whole incident was rather embarrassing. Looking back, I wish I could do it the last day over again.

It began when I saw the horrid advertisement for the Amazing Mutant Race 3. You know the one. That billboard with Wolverine pushing me down the stairs. I was already feeling rather put out, to say the least, with all the impositions the network had made on me by forcing me to go to these deplorable interview shows. It was just one insult and humiliation after another.

I had Iceman drive me to the CBS headquarters in Manhattan, fully intending to give the executive that had been sending me out to those . . those . . shows, a piece of my mind. Normally Cyclops provides chauffeur services for me, but as he is on the race he was unavailable.

When I got to the executive's office, Sam Slimeball is his name, his secretary told me that I couldn't see him as I didn't have an appointment. I became incensed. Then I took over her mind and made her buzz me into the executive's office.

After he got over his initial start at seeing me, his face brightened up. "Charlie, baby! You should call first next time."

"Save it, Slimeball," I said.

"Er, that's Sinval actually," he offered.

"Whatever. I am outraged at these terrible shows you have been sending me on. I won't have it!"

"Hey, I totally agree Charlie, baby! And I have some great news for you. The Amazing Race is doing so great I have been able to score you the grand-daddy of all interview shows. The absolute hottest ticket in town. The coup de grace, baby!"

"There is not a chance that I will do any more of those things!" I insisted.

"Oh, you'll do this baby! Oprah!"

My mouth fell open in shock. Oprah. Former Horseman of Apocalypse. An Omega level mutant of tremendous power. My sworn enemy.

All the rage and frustration I had been feeling exploded. I flipped open the heat seeking mini-sidewinder missiles launch button on my chair and pressed it. Normally I wouldn't respond with violence. I would just take over Slimeball's mind and make him do whatever I wanted. Such as canceling the Oprah appearance. For some reason that didn't even occur to me. I just wanted to hurt him.

Slimeball's office was vaporized in the explosion. Fortunately Iceman created a quick ice coccoon around the scared executive. Did I just say fortunately? Either way, Slimeball survived.

The police came and arrested me. The network agreed to drop the charges provided I paid for the repairs and went on the Oprah show.

Sigh.

I don't know why the Xavier insists on doing that inane Mutant Race 3. It is just an insult to Homo Spaiens everywhere. Those stupid shows have brought us nothing but embarassment and shame to us. And now I have to go an bail Xavier out of jail.

To make it worse, as I drove Cyclops's new Corvette to the jail, I saw this billboard.






I should just let him rot.

I have been sitting here in my hotel suite outside of Raccon City for the last three hours fuming mad. Sitting right outside my window is this giant billboard.




In between my tapings on the Amazing Mutant Race 3, I have had to promote the damn show which has lead me to be called terrible things bysome rather marginal people. Homo-phobe. Anti-Semite. Racist. Or Speciesist, at least. All terrible unfair.

Why didn't I just erase their minds or turn them into babbling idiots or make them think they were Cocker Spaniels or something? Here I am with all these ethics about only using my powers to influence other's minds in cases of emergency and what thanks do I get for it? None. These people all take advantage of my kindness and morality.

Well that's it. No more Mr. Nice Guy. I dare that damn network executive to send me on anymore of these moronic shows. I'll show them what the most powerful mutant telepath on the planet can do.

"We have here Professor Charles Xavier," Jon Stewart said as I rolled out to his desk. The audience applauded politely. "The show is the Amazing Mutant Race 3. So tell me Professor, who's winning the race so far?"

"Well, the current leader is A Army of (Cl)One and Angel."

"Army of Clone? He's one of the Empire's Stormtrooper, right?"

"Er, I believe that's one of his job titles, yes. But I could be -"



"You have stormtroopers on your show? Very interesting. So you're admiting your show features Aanti-Semites, then?

"What? No, of course not. AOC has absolutely no connection what-so-ever to . ."

"And this is the 'mutant' race, right? There are X-Men that are participating?"

"Yes, but-"

"You do know the X-Men are incredibly Anti-Semitic, right?"

"What are talking about? Of course they are not-"

"Who's the number one bad guy? The mutant terrorist that has threatened to destroy the planet on hundreds of occasions? Mangeto. A Jew."

"That's ridiculous. It's . . it's just a coincidence."

"Oh sure. Just like Haliburton getting the reconstruction contracts for Iraq, right?"

"Excuse me? Look, the X-Men happens to have a Jewish person on the team."

"Oh yeah right, Kitty Pryde. What's her power? Disappearing? I bet plenty of people wish all the Jews had that power."

"This is preposterious. I don't-"

"And that's all the time we have. The man - Professor X. The show - The Amazing Mutant Race 3. The issue - Anti-Semitism. Stay tuned."

As I slowly sipped my Cognac and admired the bright morning scene outside my office window, I couldn't help but smile in smug satisfaction. My little verbal assault on the ladies of the View yesterday would surely have generated sufficient complaints that I would not be required to do anymore of these annoying press shows. I wasn't particularly surprised when the phone rang.

"Hello," I said, in a warm friendly voice.

"Charlie baby! What the hell did you do on the View?!" the familiar voice of the CBS network executive boomed. He sounded incredibly agitated. I chuckled silently.

"That's just who I am," I told him. "I was just being myself. Can't help it. Sorry."

"Sorry? What are you talking about? You were perfect! What you did is all over the media! Everybody's talking about it!"

"What?"

"Last week I had to twist arms to get you any air time. Now every show in the country is clammoring to have you on!"

"You're kidding." I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"You're doin' the Daily Show with Jon Stewart this afternoon. The car will be by in a few minutes."

Damn.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our next guest, Professor Charles Xavier of the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children."

I stiffened my shoulders and forced a smile on my face. I was getting quite tired of having to do press for the Amazing Mutant Race 3. Oh well, at least I didn't have to fight Apocalypse.

As I rolled out onto the stage, the audience politely applauded. "Good morning, ladies," I said, turning and smiling to each of the four women seated around the coffee table.

"Now Charlie, let me find out something here," the short stout woman with black hair said. Her voice was most abrasive. I think her name was Rosie O'Donnell. "When you say your kids are 'special', do you mean that they're gay?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Oh what, there's something wrong with being gay?" She sounded rather insulted.

"No. Not at all. It's just . . they aren't."

"None of them? That seems a little against the odds, you know what I mean? You don't let gay kids in? That's discriminatory!"

"Please. We do not discriminate. Trust me."

"Well if you don't have any gay kids," she insisted, "you must discriminate."

"Actually, we do have one of them."

"Them? Them?! Oh well thank you very much Mister Homophobe! Girls, I think I feel a boycott coming on." The others started nodding and the audience burst out in applause.

"Now wait just a minute," I said as firmly as I could. "My school does not discriminate. Not against homosexuals anyway. But I'm hear to talk about the Amazing Mutant Race."

"And that's another thing," Barbara Walters interjected. "Don't you think it's rather superior of you to call mutants 'amazing'? What about mutant terrorists like Magneto or Apocalypse? Wouldn't 'nefarious' or 'dangerous' be more appropriate?"

"Yeah," the pudgy woman on my left chimmed in. "And what about those mutants whose powers aren't amazing? There are some mutants out there who are just plain dopey. Like the Blob. His power is just to be really fat. Or Toad can eat flies with his tongue. Whoop-de-doo!"

The audience started laughing at this.

"I don't know," the ditzy blonde on the end said. "Toad's power doesn't sound so bad."

We all just stared at her for a moment. Then a plan occured to me. If I played my cards right, CBS wouldn't try to get me to do any more of these press events.

"I'll be sure to give him your number the next time I see him," I said to the blonde. "And as for the rest of you . . . yes, I do think mutants are pretty amazing. They put up with abuse, fear and discrimination and yet still they try to reach out in friendship to mankind. That's what this race is about. You see, each team is composed of two members, one mutant and one human.

"Or, um, one humanoid," I corrected after a moment. "There's actually a couple of aliens playing. So far the teams are working quite well together. Mutants and other species getting along in harmony. That's what the race is about."

"Oh come on," Behar snorted. "The race is about winning!"

"The racers are competing hard," I admitted. "The race is very physically demanding."I glanced around the couch. "You ladies wouldn't have made it half way through the first leg."

They all gasped. "I don't think I've ever seen a group of flabbier, more out of shape women in desperate need of a regular exercise regieme."

There mouths all hung open in shock. I had them right where I wanted them. "All I can say is, you're lucky your job requires you to sit down."

The women were stunned into speechlessness. An impressive feat for this crew. I nodded to the camera pointing at me. "Stay tuned for this word from out sponsors," I said with a smile.

Hopefully that will teach the CBS executives a lesson and they won't send me on any more of these things.

I sat at my desk staring at the ringing phone. It just kept going and going. It was at that point that I regreted never getting an answering machine. I knew who it was on the other line, you see. That oily TV exec from CBS. I knew he would want me to go on some other horrid show to promote the Amazing Mutant Race 3.

The phone had actually been ringing all morning. All the papers wanted to know about why Spider-Man had dropped out of the race. They all suspected some serious scandel. Was it drugs? Was he caught in delicto flagrante with Emma Frost?

'No comment' was all that I would offer as to why he flaked out. That just seemed to fuel their suspicions that there was something far more juicy behind it. As a telepath I of course knew the truth, but I figured all the gossip mongering who do more to boost media attention on the show, so let the sharks feed.

And now the CBS exec was calling. The phone was still ringing after four minutes. I could not believe this man's tenacity. A part of me was curious as to how long he could keep it up. But another part of me couldn't stand the ringing any more. It was driving me crazy. I yanked the phone off the cradle.

"What?!" I shouted into the receiver.

"Charlie baby! Glad I caught you. Were you in the dumper or somethin'?"

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind that. Great news. I scored a real coup for you! The biggest of the big. Tomorrow at 10am."

The biggest of the big? Who could he mean? Oh no. Oprah! She was one of Apocalypse's four horsemen. She's a very powerful mutant who holds a grudge.

"It's The View. Biggest show on TV. It'll double our ratings!"

"The View? Couldn't I do Oprah?" I asked.

"Forget Oprah. She's had it. Totally out of touch. The View is where it's at. The limo will be at your school tomorrow."

Great.

"Hey, Charlie baby! We've got another press gig lined up for you!"

I couldn't take anymore of that oily CBS network representative. I reached out with my thoughts through the telephone line and entered his mind. To my astonishment it was totally vacant. There wasn't even enough brain power to keep this man breathing. How on Earth could he function?

A blaring sound from outside my window disturbed my thoughts. "Good. The car is already there," the network man said. "You're doing the David Letterman show. There was a cancellation and they need a last minute filler. Now get going!"

Letterman? Uggh. That man hasn't been funny in years. Sigh. Oh well.

I arrived at his studio in Manhattan and after having a woman smack me in the face a few times with a large powder puff, I was ushered straight out onto the stage. As I rolled out, I was a little shocked at what I found myself face to face with.

"Alright!" the loud-mouthed young man in the bozo wig shouted. "Welcome back to the Late Show! I'm your guest host Carrot Top and I'd just like to say, take your time in Boca, Dave!"

Then he turned to me. "Now who do we have here? Some bald guy in a mobile iron lung? I love it!"

I looked around in disbelief. Was this some kind of joke. I glanced out at the audience and saw them all laughing. What on Earth for? Oh well, I suppose I might as well try and make the best of it.

"Hello. My name is Charles Xav-"

"Look at this!" the obnoxious one shouted. He reached behind his desk and pulled out a black high heeled show with little wheels on it. "Training wheels for young girls!" The audience roared.

He knocked the shoe off the desk and slammed down a rubber duck with an electrical cord. "Dr. Kevorkian's bath toy!" More raucous laughter.

"I even have some self-esteem for Tom Cruise!" At that Carrot Top then dropped a shoe on the desk and pressed a button on the side. Expanding air cause the shoe to lift four inches higher. "And something for the cowboys when their drunk!" He then dropped a boot next to it. The boot had a kickstand.

He knocked them all off the desk and threw down a toy car with antlers mounted on the front. "Brittany Spears baby seat!" he shouted. More laughter. What was wrong with these people?

Then the truth occured to me. Obviously Carrot Top was a mutant with powers of mind control. He was tricking the crowd into thinking he was funny. I thought about altering everyone in the audience's mind, making them ignore him, but then I realized it would be easier to just take over Carrot Top's brain.

He dropped the microphone in the shape of a bong labeled 'Whitney Houston's' and turned to face me. "I am honored to have you here, Professor Xavier," he said in a level tone. "Please tell us about your new show, the Amazing Mutant Race 3."

I couldn't but help smile to myself. I must say, what followed was the best interview of my life.

I sat there staring at phone, dreading that it might ring. As if the cosmos had somehow heard my dark fears and decided to give them life, it started ringing. It was the CBS representative.

"Look," I told him, "I appreciate your network letting us proceed with the Amazing Mutant Race, but I'm really not interested in doing any more of these promotions. That one this morning was really-"

"Forget it Xavier!" he barked. "You made an agreement. You signed the contract. We've got you by the short hairs!"

"Excuse me?" I said in disbelief.

"You heard me! Now you've got an appointment to do some radio. The limo should already be at your school. Get going!"

I sat there stunned by the brazeness of this TV executive. Did he have any idea who he was talking to? Didn't he realize what I could do to him? I started to think of all the things I could do to him when a loud blaring horn began honking outside my window.

Ah well. The racers have already started. I suppose I can put up with these ordeals for a bit longer. The driver took me to a tall high rise in midtown New York. I was lead up to a well lit studio. A nasally, gravely voice filled the studio's sound system.



"Okay, now we've got this guy named, um, let me see . . Professor X. Sounds pretty creepy."

"Oh Howard, you are so crazy, ha, ha, ha!" said a plump black woman sitting in the corner.

"Thank you, Robin. Now then, 'Professor', how are you doin' today?"

"Just fine thank you, Howard. And how-"

"Now let me ask you somethin'. You run a school right? And there are all sorts of young chicks there? Like, hot young chicks, right? Do you ever let them give you 'extra credit' to boost their grades?"

"Well of course students can do extra credit work. Both the girls and the boys."

"Woah!" he shouted. "Both the boys and the girls?! Thank you Congressman Foley! So that's how things are at your school, huh? Am I right Robin?"

"Ha ha! You are so right, Howard!" the woman agreed.

"Now then, let me ask you somethin' else," the man with the long scraggly black hair and protruding nose said. "These girls. You make 'em wear uniforms?"

"Well yes," I answered, a bit confused. "They wear spandex suits that-"

"OOH! Spandex! Are they skin tight?"

I found the eagerness in his voice to be more than a bit disturbing. "Well yes, but that's because they have to-"

"Oh man, that is so hot! I can just see it. And when the girls do their 'extra credit' . . . do they take off their skin tight spandex suits?"

"I don't . . I mean they do take them off to-"

"Oh man! You are one sleazy old guy! I love it!"

"What are talking about?" I demanded. "I am not sleazy. I run a-"

"You have got the best job ever!" Howard boomed. "You can get these hot little girls to do anything you want. You lucky bastard."

"Howard, I am here to talk about the Amazing Mutant Race show. We are airing-"

"So you're a mutant right?" he interrupted. "Do you ever use your powers to get people to do whatever you want?"

"It's not like that at all. There are many ethical considerations to be taken into-"

"Do you ever use your powers on women? Get them to go out on dates and sleep with you and stuff?"

"Of course not! I am rather offended that-"

"Oh come on! Any guy with that kind of power is totally going to use it to make women sleep with them. Am I right Robin?"

"Ha ha! You are so right, Howard!"

"I mean you can get chicks to do anything you want," Howard continued. "Fourth point of contact and everything! You lucky, lucky bastard."

"Now look here, Howard," I said as sternly as I could. "I hardly ever use my . . I mean, I absolutely would never under any circumstances use my powers in that fashion."

"Oh come on, Xavier!" he insisted. "You're a guy, right?"

"Of course I am."

"Well that chair you're in . . I mean your not dead below the waist are you? The equipment still works and everything?"

"Well of course it does. But I really don't see what-"

"Then there is no way you aren't using your powers to get women. I don't care what you say. Ladies and gentlemen, my new hero . . Professor X. Catch the Amazing Mutant Race 3 results show this Sunday at 8pm on CBS! Up next . . Carrot Top!"

Uggh. I need a shower.

A press tour. How dreadful. I didn't even want to do this silly Race. But Wolverine probably would have gone on strike if I hadn't. The last thing I need is for him to be sitting around the school all day and doing nothing. He gets in quite a bit of trouble when he's bored.

The CBS Press Liason sent me out on my first stop. Live With Regis and Somebody Or Other.

"We're here to today with Professor X, headmaster of the Xavier School for Gifted Students right here in New York. Let me just say Professor, you have got one GREAT name!"

"Thank you Regis. But my name isn't actually . ."

"So does that mean you're a member of the Nation of Islam?" the ditzy blond next to Regis asked. "You all change your names to 'X', right?"

"What? No, I'm not a Muslim. That isn't . ."

"And that chair!" Regis yelled. "WOW! That thing is great! It's HUGE! And it doesn't seem to have any wheels! Gelman, are you seeing this?"

A rotund man standing near the camera nodded.

"My chair isn't really that . ."

"And can I just say that I think it's wonderful that you work with disabled children," the blond interrupted. "That really is a special calling."

"What? My children aren't disabled. They're special because . ."

"Now let's talk about this new SHOW!" Regis shouted. "The Amazing Mutant Race 3. THREE! Now that's amazing! It's on CBS, right? It sounds like a great show! Tell us how it works!"

"Well there are 11 teams of two that are racing . ."

"And can I just say that it's really wonderful you're letting mutants play?" the blond asked. "I mean they're people too, right? They deserve to be able to play our games. I think that's just really special. Let's have a round of applause."

At that the drones in the studio audience all began clapping their hands.

"Thank your Professor X!" Regis shouted. He turned to the cameras and continued. "After the break we're going to have a very special guest - Carrot Top! Be there!"

That was something I did not want to wait around for.

Well, I've gone from the frying pan into the fire. This whole Amazing Mutant Race thing might just have been a bad idea. I just got off the phone with my lawyer.

"Well," I asked, "how did court go today? Any luck lifting that CBS injunction against the show?"

"I wouldn't call it luck, Professor. I'd call it excellent layering."

"I'm not sure that's a word."

"Yes, well, if it's not, then it soon will be. The sharks from the CBS legal department were determined to play hardball, but after some very intense negotiations, I finally got them to make an offer you couldn't refuse."

"What offer?" I asked skeptically.

"Technically I know I should have called first to run it by you, but I know you're up against a deadline what with the Race about to start."

"It already started! The Race began yesterday! I went ahead with it, telling everyone it was taken care of. You better have gotten the injunction lifted!"

"Well then you will be glad to hear that I accepted their offer and injunction has been lifted."

Whew. I let out a sigh of relief. At least I wouldn't be facing jail for contempt of court. "So what are the terms of this offer then?"

"Er, nothing to onerous. You agreed to have the Amazing Mutant Race 3 broadcast on CBS."

"Really? Well I suppose that's not too . . "

"And you agreed to do a press blitz to promote the show."

"What! Absolutely not! I'm not going to parade myself around on-"

"Professor. We had no choice. The only way-"

"I did not agree to do that. I am not some kind of media . . media . . whore. I have to maintain a professional and respectable profile due to my status as a leader-"

"It was the only way to get them to let you do the race. I had to agree to their terms. It's no big deal. You just have to go on a few of the chat shows and do some magazine interviews and things. It will be over before you know it."

Great. Just great. I'm going to be the laughingstock of the other Illuminati.