Monday, October 29, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
"Yes, Emma. I think you know why I asked you here."
"It's that silly picture with Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator?"
"Why yes it is," I answered. "You must have read my mind."
"Now Charles, you know I'd never read anyone's mind without their permission."
"Of course not, Emma. Neither would I. It's just not ethical."
We both looked at each, managing to keep our faces straight for about 20 seconds before we roared with laughter.
After we had composed ourselves, I continued. "Emma, I'm going to need to mind meld with you. I have to know what happened with Jon."
Shrugging, she started to slip off her bodice. "Er, no," I said hastily. "I just need to read your mind."
"Oh?" she said, shrugging again. She stopped disrobing.
As I stared at her half-exposed body, I wrestled with my conscious. Then the insistant, angry voice of Jon's wife intruded on my thoughts. Better keep this professional, at least for the moment.
After I had probed Emma twice, I realized whoever was behind this scandel was more devious than I had thought. Emma was summoned by someone she thought was me out of Chicago the night the picture was taken. The Emma in that picture was a fake!
Monday, October 15, 2007
"Who was that?" Kitty asked, looking up from her place on the floor where she was polishing my shoes.
"Jon's wife. She's a bit put out by the pictures of her husband and Emma in the papers."
"I don't know what she's so suprised about," Kitty said as she rubbed my shoes with a cloth, "Emma sleeps with just about everybody."
"Yes well, not everyone is as broad minded as we are. And besides, Emma did not sleep with Jon."
Kitty looked up at me with an expression that said I was a total moron. I was about to chastize her when it occured to me . . could she be right? Did Emma actually sleep with Jon, either with or without his consent? It certainly would not be beyond her typical Hellfire antics.
"Get me Emma Frost!" I shouted. "I'm going to have to mind-meld with her."
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Flipping to the political section, I checked to see if there was any news about Jon's campaign. On the front page of that section, I saw this . .
Involuntarily, the orange juice sprayed out of my mouth in a wide arc. I immediately, after wiping my mouth off, of course, grabbed the phone and called Jon.
"What the hell have you been up to?!" I yelled into the receiver once he answered.
"Hunh? Professor? What time is it? I'm in the Central Zone, you know."
"Have you seen the morning papers?!" I demanded.
"You mean this morning? Hang on . . let me just . . the computer's warming up."
I waited, my impatience growing. How could this have happened? Damn that tramp Emma.
"Holy crap!" Jon yelled, loud enough to wake my whole school. "B-but this . . I never . . I'm married! I would never . . this is just some kind of, I don't know, photographic fakery or something. They must have Photoshopped it together! I couldn't do this!"
"Well it's in all the papers now," I told him. "Even if it is faked, the public is going to make assumptions."
"What are we going to do, Professor??" Jon asked, the desperation unmistakable in his voice.