So I wrote a short story called
Robitussin maybe a year or so ago. Someone suggested I write a sequel a while back, and at the time, I didn't have a clue how to continue it; I thought it was done. Oh, ye of little faith. I'm heading out of town tomorrow for the holidays, and of COURSE the Muse has to kick into action. So without further ado...ps if anyone has a better title name, feel free to say something like, "Jen, the squirrels in my backyard could have picked a better title!" Thanks.
Inside the Elevator
Jen
This was not happening. Clark Kent was not revealing a Superman outfit as he took off his shirt. Lois Lane was not standing in the elevator watching Clark Kent reveal a Superman outfit as he took off his shirt. She repeated the mantra to herself over and over again as Clark finished unbuttoning his shirt. The distinctive S symbol on spandex was clear as daylight.
<But Superman doesn’t get sick!> Lois counter-argued in her head. It was the most logical thing that came to mind, of course. Well, there was Kryptonite. <But doesn’t that give him pain? I’ve never seen it make him *drunk*!>
“Isn’t it *cool*!” Clark exclaimed as he shrugged off his dress shirt. He started running circles around her in the confined spaces of the elevator as they took their decent to the parking garage where Lois’ car resided. Holding a fist out heroically, Clark placed the other arm on his waist. “Clark Kent! Defender of truth…justice…and Lois Lane!” he recited as his voice progressively grew louder.
“Clark,” Lois began. He continued running circles around her. “Clark!” She grabbed him by the outstretched arm and forced him in place, hands to his sides. Well, whether or not Lois believed him to be Superman was not the current problem to be solved in her mind. He had to behave himself, and he had to get dressed before she brought him out into public.
“Lois, don’t you like my outfit?” Clark asked a little depressed but momentarily the quietest he’d been since he entered the newsroom.
“Clark, it’s beautiful,” she replied patting his arm cajolingly. “But the elevator doors are about to open, and it’s important that you don’t let people know who you are. So get dressed. Okay?” He didn’t respond. “Clark, can you do this one thing for me?”
There was a loud thud, and he slumped to the floor and began to snore. Lois rolled her eyes and pulled the stop button on the elevator as it began to open up to the parking lot. “Hey!” A small chorus of people began to bang on the door and yell.
“Keep your pants on!” Lois yelled irritated. She grabbed Clark’s shirt and stuffed his arms through the sleeves buttoning it as best she could. When it looked like none of the costume was visible, she let the elevator doors open back up.
“About time!” The chorus started up again outside. Lois glared at them and coerced a couple of the people to help drag Clark out to her car. He was out cold.
**********
Many hours later, Clark Kent opened his eyes groggily. It was almost dark! And he was…in his bed? He took a peek under his covers; he was wearing his work clothes. It didn’t make sense. Rolling over, he reached an arm out towards his nightstand for his glasses. Sitting next to them was an empty bottle of Robitussin. Ah. Clark nodded to himself wryly. It all made sense now. He vaguely remembered being at work. Lois was there, of course. Something about an elevator...running in circles...and Superman? Ohmigosh. He reached for the phone and dialed Lois’ work number.
“Lois Lane,” answered the familiar voice.
“Uh…it’s Clark,” he answered hesitantly. What if he said something he shouldn’t have earlier?!
“Good Lord, how are you feeling? You showed up at the Planet like you were drunk, and then Perry told me to bring you home, only you passed out in the elevator, oh, and there were these really rude people, but I guess they weren't so bad, they helped me bring you to my car, but only after I threatened burn down their houses, the scumbags, and—”
“Lois,” Clark interjected amused and cut off her rapidly-growing tangent. “I’m feeling better. I think I took too much cough syrup this morning.”
“You bet your byline you did!”
“I was just wondering, is everything okay? Did I say anything stupid, or out of line, or anything…I shouldn’t have?” Clark trailed off.
“Umm…” Lois thought good and hard about the morning. The declaration. The suit. The fact that he downed a whole bottle of cough syrup, while he should have known better. Even if the whole morning didn’t make sense, it certainly explained at lot. The disappearances. The constant supply of Superman quotes in his articles. The ‘Superman told me this,’ ‘Clark told me that’ stories she got from the both of them. But Superman didn’t get sick…did he? She was at a stalemate. For now, though…”No, Clark, you were just fine. A little drunk, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”
Flu season was already off to an interesting start.
The End.
Happy Holidays, everyone!
Feedback, comments, suggestions...the trio is always welcome, especially considering I never BR my stories like I probably should.
