feedback as always is greatly appriciated
In one of the snazzier sections of the downtown Metropolis area just a stones throw from the docks and suicide slums lay several rows of antique buildings. The tenants of these edifices ranged from specialty shops that catered to the wealthy, to one of a kind piano’s. There were florist shops that sold rare flowers from across the great oceans, and restaurants that charged upwards of thirty dollars for a hamburger (drink not included).
The fudge castle served, as the name implied, fudge. But not just fudge, it also served an array of chocolate delights to satisfy any chocolate lover. Anything a chocoholic desired they would find at The Fudge Castle. Their vast menu included: chocolate lattes, chocolate soup, half pound to two pound chocolate bars, chocolate covered confections, chocolate turtles, various chocolate covered fruits and nuts, and more different kinds of chocolate ice cream then could be counted on all ten fingers and toes.
It was a friendly family owned establishment founded by Ulrich Strauss, an Austrian chocolate maker, in 1906. His sons had taken over the business when he died, and there sons had taken over for them and so on.
Not much had changed in almost ninety years. You could still sit behind the counter and watch as gallon after gallon of liquid chocolate was painstakingly scored and heated, being made ready for whatever confection it would become.
The regulars were all on a first name basis with the employees and each other. It was a very exclusive club, chocoholics, those who didn’t suffer from the affliction couldn’t relate.
The wide reach of chocholism, was such that people from every walk of life could be affected; teachers, principals, bus drivers, millionaires, actors, authors, and even reporters for major metropolitan newspapers.
Lois was working on fourth helping of choco-chocolate-chip ice cream, and it wasn’t even noon.
I’m so pathetic she thought between massive spoonfuls of ice cream. Look at me. Sitting here sobbing into my ice cream like some sixteen year old that was stood up for the prom. She licked a stray drop of fudge from the back of her spoon, and studied her now empty bowl. Stupid empty bowl, stupid Perry, stupid Lex, Stupid Clark. At that last thought she sucked in a big gulp of air.
I promised myself I wouldn’t think about Clark, so I’m not going to. Clanging her spoon into the bowl she raised her head to get the attention of the older man wiping the counter.
“Get me another Lewi” she said, sliding her bowl to sit with the others.
“You sure miss Lane? I mean that is your fourth bowl, you usually stop at three.” He simply looked sympathetically at his favorite client. They were so well acquainted, that they exchanged Christmas cards every year. He knew her moods as well, if not better, then anyone—except maybe Clark.
Must be something really bad to bring her in here before noon, and break her three bowl limit. He thought forlornly
“Yeah bring me another.” She said, as she dug through her purse searching for an ever elusive Kleenex. Wiping the traitorous tears from the corners of her eyes, under the guise of blowing her nose, she balled up the tissue and sailed it one handed into the waste paper basket.
Lewi returned from the kitchen with another large bowl of ice cream. The bottom layer of the bowl was coated with white, dark, and milk chocolate chips. On top of that was three different kinds of chocolate ice cream all layered precisely so that one could differentiate between them, and on the very top was a mountain of whip cream and toffee bits.
“Thanks Lewi” Lois said, over a mouthful of chocolate ice cream. Lewi only smiled and went back to wiping the counter. Poor kid, he thought as he absently rubbed the counter top. It’s probably some big story giving her grief; those reporters are always under a lot of stress it’s a wonder they don’t all implode before deadline.
Lois stared down at her bowl and shoveled another bite into her already over full mouth. Life really is like a box of chocolates, cheap, thoughtless, and highly over rated. Take life at the planet; I’m a perfectly successful woman of the ninety’s my career is second to none I have an apartment people would kill for and, for now, a great body. She spooned more frozen confection in her mouth at that thought. I had it all; that was until Clark Kent showed up.
Clark Kent and his baggy suits and mitch matched ties. His stupid glasses and his stupid disappearing act; he’s been a thorn in my side for far to long Lois thought as she stabbed violently at her bowl. It was now quite empty, so she signaled for Lewi to bring her another.
He simply shook his head and headed for the kitchen, for her sixth? Or was it her seventh helping.
Lewi came back with another bowl, and set it down in front of her with a sad smile.
Lois continued her reflection heedless of Lewi’s sympathetic looks. She had a million things on her mind the foremost of which was Clark. What was his problem anyway, he was acting like some kind of jealous moron. The way he’d spat Lex’s name like a curse it just didn’t sit right with her. Of course she’d never considered that Clark might have a little crush on her. She knew he was a bit enamored of her sure, but did he really like her? It made sense; why else would he be acting so offended by her not wanting to go to the ball with him?
That was another thing. The nerve of that Lex Luthour! How could he be so presumptuous as to think she’d automatically accept that ticket? People seemed to be taking a whole lot of liberties when it came to her life these days, and she didn’t like it one bit.
Ah but you’re the one taking all the liberties these days. Who went undercover at the Metro Club even though she knew it was dangerous? Who socked Trask’s thug and then jumped out of a moving airplane hoping beyond hope that Superman could hear he pleas for aid? Who risked life and limb to help her father with that cyborg caper?
<All good points> she conceded to herself. Why argue? That stupid inner voice had been right more often then not lately. The voice was right. Clark was right—No! Clark was wrong. Her life was her own there was no way she’d allow his meaningless accusations to upset her.
She was not careless! She may take a risk every now and then for a story, but all good reporters knew great stories revolve around risk. She would never be coy or shy about pursuing the truth, and she would never back down in the face of a challenge. If that made her careless then to hell with Clark. Defiantly she pushed her half eaten ice cream away and half-hazzardly reached into her purse, extracting several bills of unknown numeration. She quickly flung them on the counter slung her purse over her shoulder.
Lois Lane did not wallow and she defiantly didn’t sob into her ice cream. She was done feeling sorry for herself, if Clark was going to act like some insecure jerk then fine. She wouldn’t allow herself to play his game, and she wouldn’t let him make her feel bad about her relationship with Lex—speaking of the devil she was going to have a word with the illustrious Mr. Luthour as soon as she made her way to a cab stand.
