Disclaimer: Mortimer Toynbee is owned by Marvel. Though DAMN I wish I owned him! That would be so uber-cool!
Authors Note: I wrote this up last night and figured I'd post it. I really like it, as does my little sister. Please review; if I get the right support I might change this from a one-shot into something more. Maybe a series of one-shots.
I know it's short, I'm really sorry about that. I tried to make it as long as I possibly could, because I know there's a shortage of Movie!Toad fanfiction out there. Again, I am really very sorry for how long it isn't.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A nine-year-old Mortimer Toynbee walked into the office of the lady who ran the orphanage he was currently at. The office was a small room, with bare white walls. The only furniture inside the office was a desk and two chairs on either side of the desk. His gait wasn't of someone that was scared, but not one of confidence. It was one of caution.
He looked up at the lady behind the desk. Mort noted that she looked really important and fancy in the dress clothes that she was wearing. He sat down without saying a word when she told him to do so. He didn't like the fact his back was facing the door. He snapped back to looking at the lady when she cleared her throat.
"I've just been going over your file, Mortimer, and it says that you're mentally challenged." She started. Mort barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. That's what they thought, and it was exactly what he wanted them to think. He wasn't going to give her any reason to believe otherwise.
"Now I'm not one to judge people by their appearance, in fact I try and make it a point not to. But I have a feeling that you know a lot more than you let on."
You've got that right. Mort thought. His arms were crossed over his chest and his swamp-green hair was as messy as ever. He couldn't help but feel hopeful that maybe this orphanage would be different. Maybe he'd be treated nicely at this one. Maybe he wouldn't have to run away from this one. But his previous experiences told him otherwise. No matter how nice the adults were, the children were always mean bullies that picked on him just because he was different.
"I've made a short list of words that the others have covered in their schooling. I don't know how much schooling you've had, because you're new, but I'd like you to give me the definition of each word as best you can. But only if you want to." The lady said, pushing a piece of paper with a pencil on top across the desk for Mort to look at.
He didn't pick it up right away. He contemplated not picking it up and playing stupid, like he always did. But he knew the words; one glance at them told him that. He desperately wanted someone to like him, but experience told him they wouldn't so playing stupid was the safe road. After a while he picked the paper and pencil up when an idea he liked better than playing stupid came into his mind.
He took the paper and pencil and moved out of the chair and did the work in a corner. His back was to the wall; having learned turning his back to other people was dangerous in small rooms. After fifteen minutes he went back to the lady and gave the sheet to her. She told him he could leave after she looked at it, and called in one of the volunteers that worked there.
The lady passed him the paper without a word, and smiled when he rolled his eyes. It had been his idea to test Mortimer to see if he actually was mentally challenged. He seemed to think that it was only an act.
"Any more bright ideas Ricky?" She asked the man. He smiled and shook his head as he placed the paper on the desk with a sigh.
Upon putting the paper down, he revealed what was written on it in a messy scrawl.
Artery: The studie of Paintings.
Bacteria: Back Door to the Cafaterea
Catscan: Serching for Kitty
Coma: punctuation Mark
Fibula: A small lye
Medical Staff: A Doctors kane
Outpatient: A Person who has Fainted.
Seizure: A Romen emperor
Tablet: A small Table
Terminal Illness: Getting sick at the aerport.
Tumor: One plus one more.
Urine: Opossite of youre out.
Authors Note: That's it! Time to review! Obey the blue button of doom!