Lois Lane walked into the elegant ballroom in the equally elegant penthouse which was hosting tonight's White Orchid Ball. She was in awe of the beauty of the room. It was the event of the social season and everyone who was anyone would be there. Lois, of course, was interested in only one individual. She was a woman on a mission and she wouldn't be swayed from her purpose for being there, no matter how impressive the place was.
Lois tried to casually adjust her gown, which was pinching her butt just a tad too much. She moved into the center of the room and cast her gaze around her. Just then the sun, refusing to completely give in to the western horizon, shot one last ray through the huge windows which made up nearly the entire west wall. Everyone's gaze automatically followed the stubborn sunbeam as it spotlit the huge central staircase.
A man stepped into that spotlight. He was as impressive as was his home; and he was the objective of Lois' mission.
She stepped boldly into a clear space on the floor. "Clark Kent, why haven't you returned my phone calls?"
Any takers?
Tank (who just had this little thought pop into his head not more than five minutes ago)
