Disclaimer: Cyclops, Jean, and Gambit belong to Marvel. Gina Gondola and Doc belong to Cyclops (or Gambit's Crawfish Etouffee, I'm not really sure). The frogs, the lizards, and the ferret belong to Budweiser (Pleeeeeeeasssssssssse don't sue me!). And Crawfish belong in ditches and bayous.
Warning: Only read this if you're drunk (It'll help) {LOL}
Thanks to the Bad Fiction Contest at Toast Point for giving me part of the first line.

by Raven Adams
February 9, 1998

I had seen broads like Gina Gondola before - Salem Center's full of 'em. But when a broad constructed of nothing but legs, attitude and a wide-brimmed hat stalks into your office unannounced and drops a baby alligator on your desk, you sit up and take notice.

My name? It's Slim, Slim Cyke. I'm a private eye. That is, I find things you lost, and when the days are long and there aren't any cases I even find an old friend who ain't seen much action lately, my gun.

"We needs yous ta do a job for us, Slim." She said as she sat down on the corner of my desk, crossed those legs that seemed to go on forever, and whipped out a cigarette. She lit it and handed it to the alligator.

"Thanks." The alligator said standing up on it's hind legs.

Something wasn't right here. I could feel it in my bones. A dame and a talking alligator, sure, I've seen lots of them, but I ain't never seen an alligator that smokes before. I opened the top left drawer of my desk and pulled out a bottle of rum.

"Want some?" I asked Gina. She grabbed the bottle from my hands and held it up to the alligator's lips. Didn't look like I'd be gettin' drunk before this case tonight. Oh well, as it turned out, I didn't need to get drunk anyway.

"Thanks doll face." The baby alligator said wiping it's long snout with it's short arm.

"Better not be talkin' to me." I said grabbing it by it's neck. The next thing I felt was the cold round barrel of a gun up against the side of my head.

"Yous better let him go, Slim, or this things goin' off, and I ain't gona try an aim fer yer head." She said sliding the .22 down the side of my face and pointing it in a place very far from my head. I let go of the alligator.

"Thanks, Gina, baby." It said staring at me with it's beady little eyes. "Th' name's Doc, Slim. And if ya want ta get paid, ya keep yer hands off the clients, got it?"

I nodded and waited for Gina to take the gun away from my private areas. "What is it you want me to do?" I asked, lighting my own cigarette and inhaling deeply. The smell of the camels and Gina's perfume mixed was almost intoxicating.

"There's a certain Ferret and a Lizard who's gona try an' bump off three friends of mine. I want ya t' find them." Gina let another cig and gave it to Doc, who blew his smoke into my face.

"Find your friends or this Ferret and Lizard."

"Ferret and Lizard." Doc dropped to all fours and stared at me, the cigarette dangling out the corner of his snout. Gina dropped her hand down and started to stroke his scaly head. I envied him. "My friends, Er, Wise, and Bud they're tryin' ta lay low, but ya know how it is with frogs." Boy did I.

I sat back in my chair, it creaked under my weight, and I propped my feet up on the desk. "Er, Wise, and Bud you say? Hum, sounds familial. Where've I heard of them before?" I took a drag of my cig, and blew out a smoke ring. Gina and Doc looked at each other, but said nothing. "Never mind. I don't want to know." I said and stood. I walked to the window and looked out over the bayou. This job smelled like last weeks garbage, or maybe it the three week old underwear I was wearing. Any way, it smelled, but I need the job. Cigs and rum don't fall from the sky you know.

"I'll do it." I said turning from the window to look at the broad and alligator. "One condition."

"That is?"

I walked over to Gina, grabbed her in my arms, and kissed her like I was never going to see another day. I sat her back on her feet, grabbed my hat and trenchcoat off the coat rack by the door, and walked out.

I wasn't no more then five feet from my door, when the sign over the local pub fell down into the swampy water. There was an electrified sound and I realized I was too late. I took off my hat and placed it over my heart. It was always sad when I lost a case, only one other thing was ever sadder, losing a case of beer.

Laughter coming from the trees surrounded me, and someone saying "What have you done?" followed after that. I figured if I couldn't save Er, Wise, and Bud, then I could at least get the ones responsible for it, then maybe I could take Gina out for a drink and introduce her to an old friend of mine. Mr. Jack Danuals.

But before I could take a step, a new sound drowned out the laughter and made it stop.

"Bud. Bud. Bud.

"Wise."

"Bud."

"Wise."

"Bud."

"Wise."

Come on, come on, where was the other one?

"Bud."

"Wise."

"Er." Yes!

"Bud."

"Wise."

"Er."

"Bud..."

"Wise..."

"Er!"

That was it! Another case closed!

Scott Summers sat straight up in bed, beads of cold sweat sliding under his night goggles to fall into his eyes. Just a dream. He thought with a sigh and laid back down, wrapping his arms around Jean beside him.

Jean turned over, and he smiled, about to kiss her. "I love you Jean." He whispered.

"Bud... Wise... Er!" Jean's three frog heads said one after the other.

Cyclops yelled and fell out of the bed.

"Wha?" Jean asked steeply as she sat up. Only Scott's eyes could be seen peaking over the side of the bed. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "That's it, Scott. I don't ever want you eating Remy's Crawfish Etouffee and Budweiser before bed ever again."

~The End ~

(Sorry. I'm sick from eating bad Crawfish Etouffee myself and it only seemed fitting to take it out on the X-Man I like the least. I hope I didn't make any Cyclops fans mad, and I hope Budweiser doesn't sue me for any of this. And can you belive, I wasn't drunk when I wrote this?:+)

Read the sequel: More Bad Fan-Fiction (or: Just Who the Heck is Worf?)

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