Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Marvel Entertainment group (altho I'm pretty sure they'll deny owning Margie, if ya ask...) They are being used for no profit.
All the standard links:
Background info: http://bobbysworld.snarkyblue.com/buckshot/girls.html
Old Chapters and Fanart and Stuff: http://bobbysworld.snarkyblue.com/buckshot/xgirls.html
Lookie! I said I'd post it today, and I DID! And just to make you all squirm, you'll be getting Chapter 5 sometime this month (mostly because I'm working on Chapter 5 1/2 for Lev month, and I want to get it out sometime in October...)
Sorry this chapter's a little lame ... rest assure that Chapters 5, 5.5 and 6 will blow you away. No, really.

The Super-Uncanny Adventures of Bobby and His Amazing X-Girlfriends
by ValKerrie

Chapter 4: Back In It

"There, now how does that fit?" Mrs. Mellipoulos, pulling several pins out of her mouth.

"Good," Lev replied, trying to turn around to see her backside in the mirror. "I like it."

"What do you girls think?" Mrs. Mellipoulos asked, glancing over to where Zelda, Marge and Cloud sat on the couch.

"I can't believe you found orange spandex," Zelda grumped.

"I can't believe they make orange spandex," Cloud put in.

"I can't believe you are wearing that," Marge said, crossing her arms. "It looks horrible."

Lev tossed her hair over one shoulder. She'd let Cloud cut nearly a foot and a half off, and it still came halfway down her back. "Well, Marge, you have orange hair and wear pink spandex. I don't see why I can't have pink hair and wear orange spandex."

"My hair is not orange! It's red! And it's burgundy, not pink!

"And it looks just as horrible on her," Cloud added.


"I'm keeping it," Lev appraised, smiling to herself. "Besides, my hair will grow in blonde, again, eventually."

"You could always dye it back, dearie," Mrs. Mellipoulos suggested.

"NO," the other girls replied, remembering the somewhat ... unforeseen consequences Lev's last dye job had entailed.

"Thank you so much for the costumes, Mrs. Mellipoulos," Cloud smiled, standing up, and brushing off her new, sky blue costume. "But we have to be going."

"Oh, it was a pleasure, dears! And when are you sending young Robert down to get his costume?"

Zelda snickered. "Probably sometime after we tell him we're dragging him out of retirement."

Bobby Drake stumbled into his apartment, and threw his briefcase on the couch.

His mother had informed him that he needed to carry a briefcase, and supplied him with one which had once belonged to his father.

Bobby wasn't exactly sure what was supposed to go in his briefcase, but right now, it contained an empty lunch sack, a spare pair of pants, two comic books, and some broken pencils.

He might have well been carrying his G.I. Joe backpack from fourth grade.

Change his clothes ... obtain food ... change clothes ... get food ... Decisions, decisions.

The loud noise emanating from his stomach made the decision for him. Bobby wandered over to his cupboard.

It was ... empty.

"I had ramen two days ago," Bobby growled. Two days ago ... two days ago ... Two days ago, Warren had come over. That explained that. "How can I have no food? I need food! How can there be no food?" Maybe he could call his mom ... No! No Mom-calling! Maybe the girls had food. Bobby scratched his head. No, the girls were always stealing food from him. No wonder his pantry was empty.

Suddenly something caught his eye -- that familiar shade of blue! Could it be--? Was it--?

"Sweet Christmas!" Bobby exclaimed, grabbing the single box of Kraft Shells & Cheese from its hiding spot behind the baking soda. "THANK YOU, KRAFT!"

Bobby danced around the kitchen with his macaroni, grabbing a pot and singing, "If I had a million dollars, we wouldn't have to eat Kraft dinner, but we would eat Kraft dinner, course we would, we'd just eat--" he slammed open the fridge. "--more?"

No milk.

Cloud fluffed her hair as she knocked on the door. Hmm. No answer. She'd sworn she heard Bobby's daily, rather-noisy entrance into his apartment while she was changing. She wondered where on earth he could be.

Clutching his box of Kraft Shells and Cheese in one hand, Bobby knocked weakly. They were his last hope ... his only chance ... Milk ... oh, let there be milk...

"Hello?" Mrs. Mellipoulos called out.

Bobby could almost see her short, round frame, up on the chair, trying to peer out the peephole.

"It's me, Mrs. M!" he called.

"Bobby, come in!" she announced, flinging the chair aside, and swinging the door open.

"Hi," Bobby said, rather pathetically, hugging his box of Kraft dinner. "I'm, er ... this is kinda embarrassing..."

"I know exactly why you're here, mousska," Mrs. Mellipoulos cut him off. "I got plenty o' stuff left over from when the girls were here earlier."

Bobby cocked on eyebrow. How did she know?

Mr. Mellipoulos abruptly looked up from his newspaper. "Don't go with her, boy! You'll never come back!" he announced ominously.

"Oh, be quiet, George. Come along, dearie, let ol' Mrs. Mellipoulos take care of you!"

"Turn that thing off! It's messing with the radio!"

Marge scowled. "But I want to watch Regis."

Zelda fiddled with her radio. "Look. We're superheroes, we need someone to fight. And right now, playing with the police band radio is our best chance to find someone."

"But I want to watch Regis."

"Tough toenails."

"But I have the remote," Marge announced triumphantly, turning up the volume a notch.

"But I rewired it last week," Zelda grinned. She hit a switch on her radio, and the tv fizzled off.

Marge stuck out her lower lip. Then she smiled again. "But I am the Daughter of Oblivion." She waved her hand, and the television came back on -- this time displaying four frolicking, felt-clad Teletubbies."

"I win," Zelda sniffed, turning the television off again.

Lev plopped down on the couch, next to her roommate. "Zelda?"


"Do you really think Bobby's going to go for this?"

Zelda looked up from her radio. "Of course he will. Why wouldn't he?"

Lev fiddled with a piece of magenta hair. "Well, he was an X-Man, or whatever, right?"


"So, if he wanted to be a superhero, wouldn't he still be an X-Man?"

Zelda scowled. "Well, er--"

"You don't get it," Cloud said, hanging over the back of the couch. "Superheroing's a lot like ... like chocolate. Remember when you first got here, and you didn't know what it was? You didn't even know what you were missing. But once you've had it, you can never turn back. Superheroing's the same way. It gets in your blood."

Lev frowned. "I don't know. He seems to be trying very hard to lead a standard human life."

"He saved me, didn't he?" Zelda put in. "See, he's itching to get back, already."

Suddenly, the door of the girls' apartment slammed open.

Bobby Drake stood in the doorway, draped in green and pink spandex, clutching a box of Kraft Shells and Cheese like a life raft.

"What..." he managed, "is going on around here?"

"It was Lev's idea," Zelda said, loftily.

"What?" Lev squawked.

"'We should all be superheroes,' Lev said. 'It'll be fun,' Lev said," Marge singsonged.

"I did not!"

"'Call me Mistress of the Living Flame,' Lev said," Cloud added with a snicker.


Bobby blinked. "Superheroes? What are you talking about? All I know is that I went down the Mellipoulos', and Mrs. M started throwing spandex at me, and talking about manly colors, and Marge, I know you took my milk, you owe me."

"You have no proof."

"I had nothing to do with it!" Lev kept protesting. "It was Warren's stupid idea, and I didn't even want to go along with it, but everyone else did, and--"

"Don't worry about it," Bobby sighed, pulling a piece of red ball fringe off his head. "I needed to go to the grocery store later, anyway, I can pick up milk, then."

Lev opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it.

"So what's this about superheroes?" Bobby asked, frowning as he stared at the ball fringe.

"Well ... see, we've been kinda ... bored, see?" Zelda started.

"And we thought maybe we could be a little more productive," Cloud added.

"So Warren suggested we formed a team of superheroes," Marge finished.

"And I had nothing to do with it," Lev put in.

Bobby nodded. "Good plan. Best of luck. If you ever need any help, don't hesitate to ask. I stole Warren's black book once. Apparently, he has the number of every female superhero in a three-hundred mile radius."

The girls looked at one another.

"That ... wasn't exactly the plan," Cloud said carefully.


"Didn't you notice that you, too, are draped in spandex, Popsicle?" Zelda asked.

This statement entered Bobby's ear.

It bounced around his eardrum for a while.

Took a side trip through the medulla oblongata.

Bypassed the main neuron route through the cerebral cortex.

Detoured through the memory, which happened to contain a rather amusing mental image of Lorna Dane in spandex.

Then it took a wrong turn and smacked right into the Comprehension Center.

"NO!" Bobby yelped.

"Well, you are," Zelda grinned.

"No! I mean ... No! No way! No superheroes!"

"You were all about it a minute ago," Cloud accused.

"That was when it was you. Not when it was me. When it's you, it's okay, when it's me, it's bad. No. Nononononono."

"But Bobby..." Marge started.

"No! I am out of here!" Bobby announced, stomping out of the room, dropping spandex in his wake.

"Well," Lev said, crossing her arms. "That went well."

"I..." STOMP, STOMP, STOMP, "Am..." STOMP, STOMP, STOMP, "Not..." STOMP, STOMP, STOMP, "A..." STOMP, STOMP, "I'm out of apartment." Turn around. STOMP. "Superhero." STOMP, STOMP, STOMP.

Bobby flopped down on his couch, scowling.

He scowled harder when he realized where he'd stashed that bag of Cheetos in hopes that Marge wouldn't steal them.

"Bobby Drake. Accountant. Son. Neighbor. Hopefully-someday-husband-and-daddy. NOT superhero. I'm done with that. I want to go to work in a tie, not my underwear. I want to go to a sci-fi movie and not remember the time that happened to me. I want to never pull blue fur out of the shower drain again. And for the love o' little fishies, I just want my Kraft dinner!" He slammed his face down into the couch cushion, and took a deep breath of polyester.

Then someone knocked on the door.

"Who's there?" he yelled. Of course, it came out as, "Grrrnnph rrrrrgh," because his mouth was full of couch cushion.

"Um ... it's me. Mistress of the Living Flame."

"Rgggnnnnh flllmm," Bobby replied, which meant "Go away."

Lev, who was guessing by syllables, thought he said "Come in," and did.

Bobby pried his face out of the sofa. "The answer's still no."

Lev blinked. "I didn't come here about that."

"You didn't?"

"No." Lev fidgeted. "I, uh, felt bad about the milk thing. Because Marge really did steal your milk this morning. I would have brought it back, but Cloud used it when we made peanut butter omelets for lunch. So I brought you this. It looked kinda like milk, and I thought maybe you could melt it down. Or I could melt it down. Or something."

"Chunky Monkey. Um, thanks, Lev."

"No problem," she beamed. "Did you want me to melt it down?"

Bobby crinkled his brow. "While that would give my macaroni an interesting twist, I think I'll pass and just eat this straight. Promise not to tell my mom?"

"I've never met your mom."

"Well, if you do, don't tell her."

"All right."

"You want some? I think I have spoons around here somewhere."

"Ummmm ... okay."

Bobby stumbled off to his kitchen, a returned a minute later, with two mostly-clean spoons. "Sorry about my ... uh, outburst."

"No problem," Lev replied, more interested in prying the lid off the ice cream. Lev liked ice cream. If she ever returned to her home planet, she planned to bring large quantities of the stuff with her. She was sure she'd become rich beyond her wildest dreams.

"I mean, I've been a superhero since, well, puberty. It's time to grow up, don't you think?"

"I guess," Lev shrugged.

"I've got a job. Plenty of money. I've got a bank account. It's got thirty-six dollars in it. I ought to have enough to retire by 2287. Zelda checked my math."

"Humans live that long?" Lev asked, cocking one eyebrow.

"Well ... no. But Hank promised that if he ever made it on Millionaire, he'd use me as a lifeline, in case any strange tv trivia came up, and if it happens, he'd give me a grand or two." Bobby paused. "I guess I probably shouldn't be counting on that, huh?"

"Marge likes that show. I think she wants to marry Regis Philbin. It kind of scares me."

"The show or the fact that Marge wants to marry Regis Philbin?"


Bobby nodded, and stuck some more ice cream in his mouth. "See, at least Marge has a goal. I need goals in my life. Superheroing ... it's just avoiding real life, you know?"


"Besides, which, I think I'm a little old to be running around in spandex, don't you?"

"Last week, we watched Sean Connery in Man of Rubber: the Reed Richards Story, and Zelda said -- wait, no, that's not repeatable. I think it amounted to the fact that one can never be too old for spandex." She thought for a moment. "Not counting Regis Philbin."

"That wasn't the point."

"Oh. I guess I missed the point. I know you humans frown upon the caste system, but at least on my planet, no one worries about 'doing' things. Everyone just lives. Everyone does what they're good at, and everything gets done. So, you can see how it's hard for me to understand your position. But I'll just smile and nod for you, okay? Zel says that's what to do when I don't understand something."

Bobby just sat there, spoon halfway to his mouth. And then his thought processes went splut.

Inside Bobby's head...

"Don't lose your grip, boys!"
"Oops, sorry, Inner Liberated Woman."

There was a small tug of war going on inside Robert Drake's head.

In the blue t-shirts, representing the We-Love-Spandex Faction were Bravado, Libido, Inner Child, Purpose and Inner Liberated Woman.

In the red t-shirts, representing the U.S.-Bonds-are-a-Secure-Form- of-Investment Faction were Reason, Loyalty, Pride, the Biological Clock and the Inner Panty Waist.

Emotion stood on the sidelines, twisting his hands and whining a lot.

With Bobby's Reason and Inner Panty Waist on the same team, it seemed as though blue had a sure win. But then again, Bobby's Pride had the strength of one of those bus-moving grannies you always hear tell about.

Actually, the blue team probably would have won weeks ago, except that Libido kept taking time outs to hit on Inner Liberated Woman.

"What would Mom say if you go back to fighting bad guys?" Inner Pantywaist called out.

"We owe it to Mom and Dad to live a normal life, and be a normal son!" Loyalty added.

"But don't we owe it to ourselves to find our own path?" Purpose called back.

"And think of the chicks! The CHICKS!" Libido put in.

"Oh, can't we come to a compromise?" Emotion begged.

"It's 287 years now before we can retire," Reason snapped. "Do you guys know how much longer it'll be if we quit our job?"

"We can live a balanced life of superheroing and accounting," Inner Liberated Woman replied, spitting on her hands, and pulling harder.

"'Sides, superheroing's fun!" Inner Child added.

"But we'll never have time for a family!" the Biological Clock wailed.

"Hey, girls love strong guys. Maybe if we start superheroing, Lev'll go for us," Reason decided suddenly, letting go of the rope for a moment.

Nine portions of Bobby's psyche dropped the rope.

"Lev..." they sighed in unison.

Liberated Woman hooted, and started running with the rope.

"Promised to give it up," Pride grunted, grabbing the rope, and pulling the blue team another three inches closer to the mud. "Can't break a promise."

"But there're CHICKS involved!" Libido crowed.

"Promise ... is ... a ...prom--"

"Hey, Pride!" Bravado yelled.


"Ain't you got any pride in our manhood? Lookin' all cool and icy and--"

Pride gave him a Look.

Then Inner Liberated Woman got an idea. "Bravado's got a point! Don't we have a duty? A responsibility that comes with our power?"

"Right on!" Purpose added.

"Shouldn't we take pride in what we do best? Or are we too chicken?"

Pride dropped the rope.

Reason, the Biological Clock, the Inner Panty Waist and Loyalty took a dive into the mud.

"I'm being a big, giant ass, aren't I?" Bobby exclaimed suddenly.

Lev blinked. "Starting when?"

"Just smile and nod, Lev."

"Be cool, man, be cool," 13-year-old Gary Newman hissed to his companion. "Shopliftin's a blast. I've done it a million times!"

"Yeah, right," his rather nerdy companion, Norbie Howell replied, painfully conscious of the king-sized Snickers bar melting in his pocket. "Let's get out of here, 'kay?"

"Yeah," Gary replied, and the two headed towards the exit of the downtown Port Jefferson CVS.

That was right before they turned at the shampoo aisle and ran into a pair of purple-lycra-encased legs.

"If that was your attempt at copping a feel," Mirage, Daughter of Oblivion announced coldly, "I will melt your brain and enjoy watching it drip from your ear."

Norbie and Gary took in the spandex-clad goddess. Then they took in the rather well-built, sparkly nebula chick. Not to mention the flaming girl. Or the large, spiky ice-guy. The gigantic robot just drove them over the top.

"Put it back," Bobby said, shaking his head rather disgustedly.

Gary promptly wet his pants.

Norbie just fainted.

Next Up: Enter the beast! >>

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