Henchman.

During the drive back to my school I couldn't help but mull over in my mind what a thorn Henchman was in my life. His most grievous act against me to date was without a doubt his stealing of my girlfriend while I was off world with Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator saving the universe for Queen Galacta. If he wasn't such a pitiful AIM-reject, I'd almost be tempted to think he was trying to be my arch-nemesis.

Wolverine pulled our van into the parking garage at the school and I left instructions that I was not to be disturbed. Once in my quarters, I set to the task of finding Henchman. Since he's just a stooge, I knew he must be in the employ of someone else. Obviously he wouldn't have set out to sabotage Jon's presidential campaign on his own. The first order of business though was locating him.

A knock at my door interrupted my thoughts. Before I could answer, my door flew open and in rushed two pre-pubescent males. One had flaming hair and the other was green.

"Professor X!" the flaming hair child yelled. "Wally hacked into my MySpace page and changed my picture to a donkey face!"

"But I was just trying to let everyone know the truth," the blue skinned boy protested. "You're a jackass!"

"Stop!" I bellowed. The two froze in their spots. I stared at them incredulously. Why on earth would they plague me with their petty problems? Did they really think I card? Don't they know I just started this school for the tax breaks? Do they really believe all that nonsense about brotherhood with the humans?

"Get the hell out of my office!" I yelled. The boys ran.

My mind was too frenetic to concentrate on the search for Henchman. I rolled over to my liquor cabinet to poor myself a warm, soothing glass of cognac. When I opened the door, I was horrified to see the cabinet was empty. There was a single playing card. A joker.

"Gambit!" That Cajun bastard.

Fuming, I headed downstairs to the liquor supply room. As I was passing the front door, Wolverine called out to me.

"Hey Chuck, there's some head case and a hot broad to see you," he shouted. "Says they're with the national brain institute or something."

A was about to tell him to blow them off. The last thing I wanted to deal with was some pain in the ass solicitors, when I changed my mind. Perhaps harassing door to door salesmen would be just what the doctor ordered. I could make them prance around like chickens or have them bark like dogs.

I went to the door and gasped. Standing there . . floating rather, was a disembodied brain in a jar. There was indeed a cute woman next to him, but she was rather hard to properly appreciate with that brain bobbing next to her.

Before I could recover from my surprise, the woman touched something to my head and I was unconscious. When my awareness returned, I was rather dismayed that I too was just a brain floating in jar.