Alles Ist Veruckt
By: Dannell Lites


Ah don't own Nightcrawler or any of the other X-Men:(:( *sniffle* *sniffle* Ah wish! Ah would surely treat them better and that's a promise! GRRRRRR! This is a fanfic for entertainment purposes only and not a'tall meant to infringe on copyrights held by Marvel Comics or any others, so don't sue moi! *eeeppp*

Rated G for pure as the driven snow!:):)

This is respecfully dedicated to Dave Cockrum, the creator of the wonderful Kurt Wagner, AKA Nightcrawler! You asked for a Nightcrawler fic, Dave, and here it is!:):) It's just a little ol' vignette of a story, but very heartfelt, believe moi, Dave!:):) *smootchie* Hope y'all enjoy!

Alles ist veruckt ...
Alles ist geht bin Holle ...*
~"Alles Ist Veruckt" ~ - a popular German song during war time

Kurt Wagner hunkered down on the park bench, pulling the collar of his concealing great coat up closer to his ears, to cover his face in shadow. He resisted the urge to pull his large slouch hat down further around his pointed ears.

This was dangerous. He knew that. He should be safely ensconced in the heart of his family, the people of Der Jahrmart Circus right now, watching television in his trailer or perhaps laughing and playing cards with Karl and Hans between steins of good German beer.

But where was he? Here in this small town sitting nervously on a park bench, staring at his watch, waiting none too patiently for the time to pass. Soon it would be time. Soon the theatre would be open for its evening performance. Soon would come the comforting sticky popcorn darkness lit only by the flickering images on the silver screen. He smiled, thinking once again of the garish marque that caught his attention, hidden in the back of the colorful circus wagon during their parade into town.

ERROL FLYNN FILM FESTIVAL the bright lights proclaimed, all red and green and loud aggressively blinking yellow splashes of incredible color.





COME ONE, COME ALL! they urged and Kurt breathed a great sigh of contentment.

His three fingered hand itched for an invisible sword. 'Just you and I, Errol,' he thought with a smile. 'Just you and I. Soon.'

The mishapen mutant closed his glowing yellow eyes, settling back to relax on the old wooden bench. In the depths of his imagination the adventurous music swelled. Swords flashed. His chest bubbled with rising laughter.

"Ho, Gisbourne! You need a lesson or two in how best to treat a lady!" asserted the Scourge of Sherwood, his polished high leather boots and his sword alike gleaming in the torchlight of Nottingham Castle.

Guy of Gisbourne (that black hearted knave!) snarled and lunged forward, his blade seeking the other man's heart.

Kurt Wagner met the riposte and, with a flourish, easily repelled it, sidestepping neatly away.

"To say nothing of a few lessons in swordsmanship, My Lord!" the elfin warrior laughed. With his prehensile tail the jolly, agile fighter grabbed a cup of wine from off the table at his back, bringing it to his lips, sipping descriminately.

He smacked his lipswith relish. "Ahhhh! A rather common vintage, it's true," he opined lightly, "but not without its own small charms, wouldn't you say ... ?"

With that jest, the tail, still wrapped tightly around the goblet, lashed outand cracked Gisbourne smartly over the head with the empty metal cup.

"For Good King Richard!"cried the triumphant outlaw.

"You speak treason, My Lord," whispered the defeated Gisbourne, slipping insensible to the cold stone floor.

"Fluently!" exhorted the chortling victor.

Of a dudden his arms seemed to be overflowing with a warm beautiful woman. "My hero!" excaimed the grateful Maid Marion and kissed him firmly on the lips.

His pleasant daydream dissolved precipitously in the acid sound of childish weeping. Vas ist... ?

The little girl was quite small, her golden blond hair tied back with a neat pink hair bow that matched the lace of her carefully starched dress. Her dimpled cheeks and large blue eyes were red with falling tears. Kurt stirred uneasily on his bench, biting his lip.

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't ...

'Who are you kidding, Kurt Wagner?" he asked himself. "You? Resist a Damsel in Distress? Never happen." He regarded the child silently. 'All right ... so she's a little young ... but a Damsel for sure and she's definitely in distress.'

From his coat pocket he proffered a handkerchef, handing it to the crying child.

"There, there, liebling," he soothed. "Dry your eyes and tell me your name."

"L-Liseelotte," she hiccupped.

"Liselotte, my name is Kurt. What's wrong little one? Why are you so sad?"

Liselotte blew her nose and answered with a quivering bottom lip. "I can't find my Momma or my Poppa. I went to see the candy in the shop window and they were gone! Now I can't find them anywhere." The small girl looked up at Kurt with pleading eyes. "Do you know here my Momma and Poppa went?"

Without thought, the child reached out and took his hand, startling the mutant. Leiber Gott! She would be able to feel the fur! To *see* ...

"Your hand feels funny," Liselotte said, staring openly now at the three thick fingers and the velvety blue fur. Kurt recoiled,waiting for the screams. "You have fur!" Liselotte finally squealed, delighted. "How wonderful! I'll call you Poor-Bear!"

"P-Pooh-Bear?" the suddenly less than demonic mutant inquired weak voiced. "Aren't you ... aren't you afraid?"

Liselotte shook her head vigorously, shaking her golden curls,rubbing thefinal tracesoftrearsfromher eyes. "Scared of a big cuddly Pooh-Bear? Never!" came the firm dismissal of the very thought. She giggled, covering her mouth with one chubby hand. "Silly Pooh-Bear!"

'So now I'm a Pooh-Bear,' Kurt's thought was extremely wry, highly chagrined. 'Ach du lieber! The shame of it ... '

The tiny hand engulfed in his larger one squeezed the blunt fingers.

"Can you help me find my Momma and Poppa, Mr.Pooh-Bear?" was the plaintive request. "I'm lost.'

With a spreading grin that threatened to claim the whole of his face, Kurt Wagner bounded to his feet. Unseen, beneath the long, concealing great coat,his shield ad protection, his tail twitched in anticipation of adventure.

"Of course, I can, Fair Damsel!" he cried.

"What's a 'damsel'?" Liselotte demanded, ever suspicious of condescention as is the nature of children.

Kurt chuckled, kissing the back of her childish hand with a sweeping bow. "A damsel, liebchen, is a very beautiful young lady. A Fairy Princess," he informed her.

The little girl's great blue eyes widened with pleasure.

"You're a very nice man," Liselotte opined with a bright smile. Kurt Wagner smiled back, then gusted a quick sigh. 'But I don't *want* to be a nice man,' he thought sternly. "I want to be the devil may care terror of the Spanish Main ...! Ach du Liber! What a fate! A "nice man" ... ' He knelt, straightening the now slightly disarrayed pink hair bow in its nest of blond curls. To his surprise and astonishment Liselotte hugged him fiercely.

"OOOOO," she crooned happily, stroking his cheek, "Your soft ...really, really soft ... "

'Now I'm a giant plush toy,' was the future X-Man's sardonic thought.

'Well, enough of that. There are worse things than being a "nice man",' he reminded himself with a large grin. He was careful not to reveal his fangs, of course and frighten the small girl. Taking her tiny hand, he said, "Well, liebchen, let us go and find your Momma and your Poppa, eh?"

Skipping along at her new found friend's side Liselotte hummed and then, giggling, joined in on the chorus of "It's Not Easy Being Green".

Kermit!" she enthused.

Kurt barely managed not to sigh once more. 'Mein Gott!' he mourned. 'First I'm a "Pooh-Bear" ... then I'm aplush toy and now I'm a talking frog. A muppet, yet! Will this humiliation never end?'

But he smiled when he thought it and that made all the difference.

The End

"Everything's Crazy ...
Everything's going to Hell ..."