Bonjour, Je m'apelle Mongouste (solo)

The clock on the wall was ticking down the seconds, loud and clear, in an empty classroom. A number of tables, about two chairs in length, sit in a class room. Straight ahead, the white board, to Anthony's left, the black board, and to the right, the door that leads to sweet, sweet freedom. The class was dim, almost dark, with the curtains closed behind him, a long counter running beneath the curtained windows.

Anthony fidgets with a pencil, sighing. Arriving a half hour early had seemed to be a good plan, and probably would have remained so had Anthony not made a mistake. 5 p.m. versus 6 p.m. is a rather large difference when you are planning on arriving a half hour early. The professor wasn't even here.

The tick-tick-tick of a devil clock mocked him with painful regularity. The air was cold, as well. Anthony shivered a little bit, and enjoyed the goosebump-like feeling of his fur bristling a little, keeping him a little warmer. A coat would have been much better, though.

Pulling out the required reading, Anthony sighed. An Introduction To Beginners French. Not Beginners French, no, the introduction. He'd already had a full on assignment BEFORE starting the class. Anthony didn't like how much work the class was appearing.

Anthony began looking at the Fundamentals of Pronunciation chapter again. It was chapter ten. They don't even start it until ten. Woe is me. Woe is me.

"Woe to me! The Lord has added sorrow to my pain; I am worn out with groaning and find no rest. Woe is me! W-"

Anthony was cut off at the slamming of a door. A woman, in her early thirties, had walked into the bright green metal. She had the bearing of a high class office worker. She walked to the back of the barren class, and opened the curtains. The bright mid-winter light streamed in. Anthony winced, and put his head on the desk.

"Pauvre de moi." The voice came from the front of the class. It was, obviously, the woman who was in the class with Anthony.

"Pardon me?"
"Pardonnez-moi."

Anthony looked up. The woman was staring at him with a half expectant expression. Thinking for a moment, Anthony hit on the knack of it. Standing up, he slapped the back of his hand to his forehead and exclaimed "Pov de muah!" and fell back into his seat.

The woman was not amused. Her words were barely, just barely, accented with french.

"I am Ms. Durand, your basic french instructor. You are very early, which is good. You seem like you are going to need more help then most. We will start now. Do not think being a mutant will get you a free pass. Listen to the sound I am making, pay attention to the way I roll my accents."

Some Time Later

Anthony closed a notebook in front of him and heaved a sigh. Most people in the class were beginners too, with a few advanced students in the course for credits. Coming in early and studying with Ms. Durand had helped, he was sure. But, while mildly attractive, she was a vicious women with an indefatigable temper and a single mindedness bordering on zealotry.

Anthony sighed and shook his head. French would take a long time.

"Numbers. Colors. Days. Months. This concludes lesson one. Identify colors every chance you get, count objects, and rewrite your calendars in french. That is all. Now, from Basic French, you will read chapters 1-1 through 1-12. You are dismissed."

A very... very long time.