Hi Corrina!
I’ve been kind of backlogged lately, but…auction story!
Whine Whine Whine? A Poker game?
Everyone, that is, except Clark Kent.
Clark looked at Lois Lane. Because that's what he did.
Because she’s often the cause of the commotion?
And that was Clark's life in one bittersweet nutshell.
So, basically, he’s obsessed?
Even a bake sale, for goodness' sake!"
"You can't cook," Cat drawled.
She could do the register? And sweep the kitchens? She likes to clean.
"Lois," Perry said before anyone else could reply. "It's a good idea. We have the photographers. We have the writers.
/scratches head/ Pin up calendars with the reporters and office staff?
We have equipment that sits idle a few hours each day. Why not produce greeting cards?"
Let me guess, Lois’s cards:
“Have a nice life. Someplace else.”
“I love you. Like a brother.”
“Thanks for asking to marry me. The answer is ‘no’.”
"What about for Superhero's Day?" Cat said.
Super-what-now Day?
"Surely you could drag out a few words about the big man with skin-tight spandex wrapped so snugly around his rock-hard muscle."
Lois’s Card: Superman. Yummy!
"And what, exactly, would one do on Superhero's Day?" Lois sneered.
Dress up as a vigilante and stop armed robbers.
Dress in skimpy outfits and try to please the local super hero.
Collect Kryptonite.
Superman sans suit for -"
Jimmy's grin widened. "Of course, I can. How about … Capes are Red; Tights are Blue; Send your favourite hero, A Planet card from you."
So…photos it is?
"I've got something," Ralph butted in eagerly. "Capes are Red; Tights are Blue; If your name's Mad Dog Lane, Supes'll rescue you."
Clark nodded, accepting his mission. Perry wanted him to try to ease Lois into a more favourable frame of mind.
This is a job for…
"And if I win?"
"I buy you dinner at that new Italian restaurant across from Centennial Park."
Pizza Hut?
Clark nodded his agreement, figuring she'd just given him some powerful motivation to write the best poem he could.
A date?
LOIS: Don’t be silly. It’s not a date if I pay.
"You'll probably surprise yourself," Clark said. "Maybe you have the heart of a great poet and it has been struggling for years to scramble out from under the mountain of hard facts and exact detail."
Actually, it’s more of a Chateau d’If situation.
Jimmy held up a scrap of paper and began to chant. "There was a reporter called Clark J Kent; Straightest arrow, could not be bent; He chased down facts, And reported acts; And followed Lois wherever she went."
Cat smirked. "There was a man from out space; Bulging with muscle, fine of face; He runs, he leaps, he bounds, he flies; He can rescue me anytime … and then take off the disguise."
So, Cat’s not into roleplay, then?
Superman was her hero. Her only hero.
What about Resplendent Man? Or…Batman?
Lois had been more prickly than usual lately. Sometimes, just talking with her had been like trying to navigate a minefield.
So, for Superman that means he makes sure there’s no one in his path and then happily jumps around in the field?
And he had to admit, now that he'd set it up as a competition, she was probably going to win.
Already, the vibe around the newsroom, linking him with Lois in a way far more personal than mere colleagues, was making her uncomfortable.
He talking about the dirty limericks of him and Lois on the ladies’ room walls? Sadly, they’re not fit for greeting cards outside of the red-light district.
He didn't follow Lois wherever she went.
OK, he wanted to. But he didn't.
Unless she was in danger.
And then he had no choice.
So, everywhere?
How was he going to write anything heartfelt when his heart was bound up in his love for Lois?
Maybe if he thought of Lana? Or maybe something for Mother’s Day?
A friend is a gift of memories
To catalogue, keep and store
But oh, how friendship batters the heart
That yearns for so much more
So, one for the unrequited love, then?
Someone, somewhere had to need rescuing.
Even if he had to make it happen?
His phone hadn't rung, meaning he hadn't had a tipoff, so there was no need to chase after him.
Her partner? Certainly. She could work with Clark - and that made him different from everyone else. But it was more than that; she enjoyed working with Clark.
How about…Thank you for being different?
She didn't want to know how he felt about her. She certainly wouldn't want his fixation publicly aired in the newsroom like bold, black headlines.
LOIS:
Lois's poem was dedicated to Superman.
So…oops?
Clark cleared his throat, trying to make it sound as if it were the build-up to a swashbuckling performance. Then, he steeled himself to speak the words of Lois's love for her hero.
What if his poem actually sounds even more like Lois and they all think that Clark got the hots for Superman?
Michael