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It was freezing during the night. In the morning, it was cold enough for frost to form on the windshield, yet warm enough by the afternoon that she wished she had brought her light jacket instead of her heavy coat.
To be fair, we had temperature differences of 20°C with from one day to the next, too, this year or last.
So, why would someone steal the clone’s body?
Parts? Sex slave?
WandaMae blinked and glanced over at Lois. “Oh, Miss Lane, so good to see you again.”
Oh boy?
WandaMae shrugged. “I meant Superman.” She gave Clark another wink. “It’s so nice to have him here again.”
Trice? Oh boy. No wonder she’s cuckoo for cocoa puffs.
“What do you mean by ‘this time’?” Lois asked her.
“This go-around,” WandaMae explained without clarity.
Really, Lois?
“Three times?” Lois repeated.
“I don’t understand,” Lois said. “I thought he was only struck the one time.”
Really? She not the smartest one of the pair, huh?
Lois felt as if her brain had turned into Chopped Suey.
You mean like Clark feels when he gets hit in the head by a Kryptonite bullet?
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Clark said.
Lois stared at him. This woman was not the former first lady.
CLARK:
You’re telling me Lois *won’t* get to live for 200+ years and still look like she does now when she turns 160?
You were very brave, too, following Broom Hilda and I,
Brunhilde. And ‘me’ unless you intentionally…?
Clark’s face lost its color. “Back in the time of Lincoln?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Clark,” Lois said, nudging him. However, she kept an eye on WandaMae just in case.
“Heavens, no!” the woman exclaimed. “Although the North could’ve been well-served by a news writer of her caliber.”
“Thank you,” Lois said.
“Ms. Lane and I met two lifetimes ago,”
So, in the time of Lincoln.
Was there another future with a worse ending than that natural disaster?
Yeah, the one where she and Lex eloped before she left him and eloped with her shrink, too.
LOIS: Dr. Carlin?
Then, again, how was any of this possible?
Evil Writer?
What could’ve been worse than whatever that natural disaster was that Superman needed to stop?
Nightfall?
Superman finding out that Lois has already shacked up with her reporting partner.
Clark seemed skeptical. “Do recall that she thinks that she’s Mary Todd Lincoln.”
What if Abraham Lincoln was in one universe an immortal Highlander or a vampire and actually lived into the 20th century where he married WandaMae, calling her Mary Todd?
“Lucid,” Lois said. “If anyone other than you knew about my…” She cleared her throat. “— memories, it’s possible that I could be sharing a room with WandaMae before too long.”
DETER: It is my professional opinion that Ms. Lane shouldn’t be staying in her room, alone. Luckily, I can offer her a place in my special supervised facility.
She turned the key in the ignition. “Does it bother you that I have this ability, but you don’t?” she asked.
No, I guess it’s more an issue that with her having foreknowledge of dangerous situations, she might be more inclined to take risks.
“It’s just us, Clark. You can be honest. Does it bother you that there’s something I can do that you can’t?” she repeated.
Like bringing life into the world?
“Lighten up? You just accused me of not keeping my promises and using bad language!” he retorted.
Yeah, well, he *is* a filthy liar. He promised her lots and lots of carnal relations but it all turned out to be about her bust.
“You could follow my example, you know,” he said with earnest.
/later…/
HENDERSON: Okay, men! I know you don’t like her but we need to find the real Ms. Lane before something bad happens to her and Superman gets all moody. I do *not* want a Gotham situation on our hands. The bill for the floodlight would ruin us.
“No swearing. No junk food. No premarital sex.” She rested her case.
CAT: My work is done.
“Again. You’re saying it as if it’s bad that I don’t do those things,” Clark replied.
He does realize that if he had a Lois without sexual release or chocolate, the world would be in deep doodoo, right?
“Join me for a hotdog and I’ll get off your case,” she said.
One of those vegan ones? The one with enough artificial ingredients that they again have the consistency and taste of meat-based hotdogs but are actually worse for your health than the real deal?
He patted his chest. “Do you know why I look the way I do? Because I don’t eat that ju… cra… junk.”
No, it’s because he burns calories faster than Lois during sex and lifts grown women for sport all the time to carry them down from falling helicopters.
“You know, you can be a real b… witch sometimes.”
Ooooh! He called her a bitca! He must be working towards a post-spat boinking!
“Ugh. No.” Again, he didn’t hide his shiver of disgust. “One from Germany. They taste better.”
She thought about this, cut through traffic, and pulled over to the side of the road into an impossibly small spot in one try. “If you include a beer and a piece of chocolate cake, you’ve got yourself a date.”
“A beer?” He threw his hands up in defeat. “Lois, it’s lunchtime!”
She smiled, unbuckling her seatbelt and opening her car door. “Not in Germany.”
würstel. Or wurst. Although, if he goes with authentic, Wieners would probably be the most accurate if he flies to Germany, flavored with the English plural.
We’re supposed to be working in Metropolis, covering Metropolis.”
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she replied innocently, taking hold of the lapels of his jacket.
Yes, I can so see how much Perry would like it if they actually crossed the intimacy threshold and *other* activities would abound that just happen to work as a double entendre to their current topic.
He lifted her arms above her head and held them there as he proceeded to kiss her. She couldn’t move, even if she wanted to.
She didn’t want to.
He kissed down her neck to that spot he had found the night before that turned her kneecaps to jelly. Now, he was literally holding her up.
Oooh!
LEX: Really? I could have done that, too, for her. See, I’ve got this hunting lodge with a stone cellar and shackles at 8ft from the ground. I could have also fixed her arms above her head and then kissed her. No biggy!
“You want me to take you here, now?” he asked, his voice rough with passion.
Clark Jerone Kent. You take this over yonder right this instant.
“Is this what you really want, Lois? Hot sex in the alley?”
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“Then, you’ll have to wait,” he said. With a sharp nod, he stepped away from her, but held eye contact. “This is one promise I’m keeping.”
LOIS:
Stupid!
Stupid!
“What do I look like? An idiot?” she asked.
She wearing an elf outfit?
A large segment of my heart belongs to him and him alone. You’ll have to deal with that, if we’re ever going to continue with our relationship.”
“Um… Lois?”
She’d like then to be a thruple?
Several years before he had come here, in his old dimension, the Space Rats had been the Christmas toy sensation. Just as Lois suggested, the Space Rats poisoned the population of Metropolis.
And Lana got sprayed? Oh boy.
Clark scoffed. “If only it were that simple.” His eyes widened. Boiling the aquifer? Could the solution really have been that simple? He would have to try…
Maybe if Lex Luthor of his old dimension had also released the radioactive water into the aquifer…?
Please let me know if revealing such back-stories gives you too much information (and ruins the fun), and I'll enclose them behind Spoilage walls next time.
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Michael
