Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Fanfic Related Fanfic Quiz: Funny moments

In the tiny changing room, Clark looked at the clothing in his hands and thought of the absurdity of the situation. He had to take off a suit, put on one just like it, and pretend to be his alter ego.

Clark blinked. "Drunk ... nah." He paused. "I think ... *wasted* ... might be more accurate."

Lois burst out laughing, which quickly brought Clark with her. "Blitzed," she added on a gasp.

"Smashed!"

"Plastered!"

"Okay, now *that's* what I'm talking about," he blurted. "No way I
actually bought that...monstrosity! I mean it!" he insisted as his
partner looked skeptically back at him. "That has to be someone's
idea of a bad joke! I don't care if you're about to tell me I was
some kind of kitsch freak in a previous life or...or I spent all my
free time at conventions for junk fanatics...you are *never* gonna
persuade me that I actually walked into a store and put down good
cash for that...that...*thing*!"

"Lois," I say earnestly, "I'm not Superman."

I'm not. It's an impossibility. Laughable. To think I could be an icon like that, to think I could do those things... no. No way.

She regards me defiantly. "Wanna bet?"

I sigh. "I could have dealt with the flying. And the... the freaky baseball bat stuff. And... and whatever else. But... but trust me, I wouldn't... *couldn't* wear those... those *things*!"

She cocks an eyebrow at me, and I pull at the material to illustrate my point. And I moan as I realise what the thing is made of.

"Spandex, Lois?! *Spandex*? You think I'd go out like that in *public*? Flash myself around like a piece of meat in a butcher's shop?"

1. Dr. K is deathly afraid of teeth.
2. Dr. K has a secret lover and is constantly rushing off for a rendezvous.
3. Dr. K has a split personality.
4. Dr. K is a spy.
5. Dr. K is really Superman and must constantly take off to attend emergencies.

There's no TOC or Archive file for this story, so I'm not linking

Mom glanced at him, then muttered an exclamation, "What is that woman *doing*?" She hastily stuffed her notebook back in her handbag and rushed over. The woman Mom was talking about had put her hands on Daddy's chest and was looking up into his face. Daddy saw Mom coming and he got an expectant grin on his face. The other women surrounding Dad scattered like bowling pins when they saw Mom charging at them and by the time she reached his side, they were all gone.

"Defending my honor, Lois?" asked Daddy with a lazy grin.

"*Someone* has to," said Mom crossly.

"I don't think it's in any danger," said Daddy, threading his fingers through Mom's hair, "... from her."

"Really, Clark!" sputtered Mom. "Clarinda was standing so close she could have been measuring you for a tuxedo. And someone should tell her it's time to dye her hair again; her roots are showing."

"Lo-is."

"I never did like her, anyway," Mom grumbled. Dad pulled her closer, lifting her hair and bending his head to kiss the side of her neck.

"Don't do that here, Clark," said Mom a little breathlessly. She kind of fell against his chest, and put her arms around him like *she* was going to measure him for a tuxedo.

Sighing, I wandered away in search of entertainment.

Mrs Cox flounced out of the scullery then, bringing Linda
with her. Mayson crossed her arms and glared at Lois. "Get
a move on! You're far too slow!"

Lois gritted her teeth as she pushed the broom around the
uneven floor. "It's not fair," she muttered. "Why couldn't
LabRat be writing this? Then at least I'd have some decent
dialogue so I could tell you what I think of you!"

Mayson smiled triumphantly. "Tough, CinderEllen. You just
have to take what you can get."

*Bang!*

The sound rang in his ears even as he felt something hit his chest. As had happened countless times before, he had just been shot. Only this time, he was dressed as Clark Kent, not Superman. This was not good. He looked around. People were staring at him. They were expecting something. What was it? Oh, right. He'd been shot. He was supposed to be hurt. "Ow!"

Lucy held her hands up in front of her in an effort to calm her agitated sibling. "Look, I know that it seems to the rest of the world that Clark Kent was shot down in that club tonight." Lucy shrugged again. "But it's not as if he's actually dead."

Lois began to pace while tearing at her hair. "Lucy, what are you smoking? Clark Kent, my partner, my best friend and the most wonderful man I've ever known is dead. He was gunned down right before my eyes!"

"I know what you told me, Lois. But it's not like a bullet can actually hurt Clark. After all, he is Superman."

Lois' mouth opened but no words came out. Lucy had to stifle a giggle, it looked so funny. Then the realization struck her. "Omigod," she said. "You didn't know?"

I drew in a long, deep breath, looked him straight in the eye, and told him the stupidest-sounding thing I'd ever uttered to another intelligent being. "Don't ever let your prospective girlfriend think you're dead when you're not really dead. You might think you got away with it at the time, but believe me, there's a huge body of carefully researched data out there that says it's generally not a good idea. In fact, it's almost certain to put your relationship back months, if not wreck it completely."

There. I'd said it. In one fell swoop, I'd wrecked pages and pages of fanfic and made the scriptwriters rewrite half the stories in the second season. Such power! Such craziness!

"Oh, and please tell her that secret," I added, just to make sure he thought I was completely nuts. "You know, that really big one you're keeping from her. Whatever it is."

I smiled. Probably made me look even more like a lunatic.

So, I guess he figured "if life hands you lemons, make lemonade" or something like that. Maybe more like "if life hands you lemons, laugh maniacally and use the chemical energy to power your evil device." Anyway, he sent his zombies to our house. Of course. Somehow, these things always end up coming to our house. I'm not sure exactly what he was thinking when he sent them -- probably looking to kidnap Mom, but who can say? -
- but whatever it was, I ended up with zombies in my room.

"Shit, Clark, did anyone ever tell you you're the most obtuse guy on this entire planet?"

"Yes, George," said Clark. "You do. All the time."

"You do know you're enjoying this a little too much, don't you?"

"You have to be smarter than the stove, Superman."

<snip otherwise it's way too easy >

“...can use my vision, but it won’t taste as good.”

“Use your...? Oh! Cool! Do it. I want to watch.”

Lois approached him. "I hope we can still be friends, Superman."

There was a visual "ouch" from the audience after Lois delivered that line. The "kiss of death" line. The "let's still be friends" aria that marked the ringing down of the romance curtain. The fabled "fat lady" had not only begun to warble for Superman, but did so while standing on his chest with six inch Kryptonite heels.

Superman took both her hands. "Always, Lois," he said softly.

Lois stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "Always."

He released her hands, and lifted into the air. Lois looked on admiringly at Clark's ability to fly forlornly. She sighed and walked back to her desk and began typing anew. The news room remained eerily quiet.

"Unless you're from San Francisco---"

"---We doubt that purse is yours."

The mugger swallowed and, for lack of a better plan, waved his gun at them. "You kids s-stay back! Hear?"

Martha gasped. "Oh no, Lara! He is going to shoot us! What EVER shall we DO?"

Lara brought a hand to her cheek. "Oh, if ONLY we were---I dunno---bullet-proof super-powered semi-Kryptonians or something!"

"Oh wait a minute, we ARE!"

"What?" Lois demanded, suddenly outraged. "That's not fair! You can't have a contest without a prize. I won!"

Clark placed a hand on her flailing arm, trying to contain her. He guided her hand back to the receipt, then shook his head as she scrawled something that looked more like Egyptian hieroglyphics than her signature.

"What a rip," Lois muttered, shoving the paper and pen back to Jerry. "Last time I enter a contest in *this* place."

Jerry looked a bit deflated, but after a moment, his face brightened. Reaching behind him, he grabbed a blue plastic cup, added some ice, then filled it up with water. He handed it to Lois with a smile. "There you go, Lois. Here's your prize."

Two steps later, though, Lois stopped. Her eyes widened in disbelief as something occurred to her. Then she stomped her foot and let out a yell of aggravation. "Lois, what did you just do?!" she berated herself aloud, the sound of her voice echoing off the alley walls. "Someone just tried to mug you, and what did you do? You beat the crap out of him. What were you thinking?!"

She shook her head in disbelief. That, clearly, was the problem. She *hadn't* been thinking. If she had been thinking, all she would have had to do was place a loud and frightened, "Help! I'm being mugged!" and the very man she was after could have been standing right there in front of her.

She had blown it. Blown it big time.

Lois turned back to her would-be assailant, who was still out cold. Maybe she could wake him up, ask him to try again? She could promise not to beat him up this time if he would let her yell instead.

Two hours later, they had the results. It seemed that all the Lex sightings started at a sewage grating in the middle of Centennial Park. Clark quickly spun into Superman, and was down the manhole in minutes.

To his surprise, he was surrounded by Lex Luthors! Big ones, small ones, bald ones, ones with full heads of hair!
"Superman!" they cried out in chorus. "Now we can defeat you once and for all." All of the Luthors started converging on a metal box in the corner, then began fighting as each one tried to be the first to open the box.

Within minutes, many of the clones were covering black eyes and bloody ears, and still trying to swing at each other.

"That's enough!" Superman yelled. He shook off his amazement and flew across the tunnel. He shoved the Luthors out of the way and welded the box shut, telling himself to make sure Lois got it later.

The Lexes, all suitably angry, started attacking Superman. Seconds later, bodies were flying. *Whomp* A Lex slammed into the floor. *Thump* Five more hit the wall, leaving Lex-sized imprints in the brick.

Clark immediately took a small step back. "I'd never do anything you didn't want me to," he said, as if horrified that she might think otherwise. "You do know that, don't you?"

She let out a breath. "I know that, Clark," she conceded. "It's just... Well, you are acting a little strange."

"I can't help how I feel. I'm so completely in love with you, baby."

Baby? Lois fell silent. What was going on here? Why was Clark calling her 'baby'? No one called her 'baby' and actually lived to tell the tale. However, before she could respond, Clark's face broke into a smile.

"Let's get out of here," he said.

"What? Clark, it's the middle of a work day. We can't just..." Her voice trailed off when Clark suddenly became a blur. When it finally stopped, Superman was standing in front of her, hand stretched out to her.

"What... How... Omigod!" Lois gasped as the implications of what she had just seen began to sink in.

"I've been all the way around the world," he informed her. "But I
started out in Sm--" Another yawn. A real jaw-cracker. "Huh,
guess that the whole rocket-ship-to-orbit thing was tougher than
I thought..."

"Maybe you should go home," Lois suggested, in a nice soothing
voice. "Where is home, by the way?"

"Oh, it's that way," he said, waving his arm towards the west.
"No, wait. Which way's north?"

She shrugged helplessly. "Not really sure."

He shrugged back, his eyes getting heavy. "It's out there
somewhere. Second star to the right..."

"Of course. You like Peter Pan, then?"

"Oh yeah, love him. Always liked the flying around thing." A yawn
interrupted his chuckle. "You're prettier than Tinkerbell. Or
Wendy. Wanna come fly with me?"

Lexmark cheered up. A woman? Here? His paper-jam problems
would soon be history, then. All women adored him. He
beeped for her attention.

Hewlett glared at the loud and brash Lexmark.

Attracted by Lexmark's siren song, the woman approached.
"Dammit," she muttered. "Why are these things always jammed
up when I need them?"

She thwacked Lexmark coldly, then walked away, leaving the
poor printer stunned by the rejection.

Hewlett whined softly. "Please...I need toner..."

Lexmark began frantically thinking -- could he possibly
block the supply closet? Didn't the coffee machine owe him
some favors?

He smiled appreciatively and playfully. "Well, I wanted to talk
to you about this weekend."

"This weekend?"

"Yeah," he said.

I noticed he seemed a little nervous.

"What's this weekend?" I asked. I honestly had no idea.

"Well, for one thing, it's our two month anniversary..."

There, right there! I thought, "Shoot me please, now!"
I luckily received a phone call right then and he had to go back
to his desk.

"He did NOT say two month anniversary, did he?" I thought
frantically.

If you, Diary (since I apparently am going crazy and am talking
to you like you are a person... I do need more friends), think I
am freaking out or clearly have commitment issues, let me explain
a little something about two month marks and my life.

When I knew Paul (college Paul that Linda (my then-so-called best
friend) stole) for two months, I worked up the courage to ask him
out. He said no and proceeded to do jumping jacks on my heart,
while doing, um, other stuff with Linda.

When I knew Claude for two months we... well... we slept
together. And then he left me. And he stole my story. Don't
think that needs more elaboration.

When I dated Lex for two months exclusively... And this was
pretty much two months to the DAY... he proposed. And I
accepted. And that one went down in the books as a new-age Greek
tragedy. Without the gouging out of the eyes, of course...
although had that incident actually turned out differently...

Hm.

And here's a clinker... When I was two months old, I got a cold
that apparently almost killed me. But I recovered.

Obviously...

About a year ago (post-wedding fiasco), when I was bored at work
one day (on a Wednesday, actually) I made this little connection
that I have so eloquently laid out here. I call it the Two-Month
Syndrome. Clearly bad things, BIG things sometimes, happen to me
at the two-month mark. And Clark, bringing up the weekend on a
Wednesday (usually we just play the weekends by ear) means that
he most likely wants to do something special or big. Something
we have to plan for.

This could only mean one thing: disaster.

"We have to get you off this island, don't we?" he asked gently, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace. "Before you lose your mind?"

He knew. He always knew.

She didn't pretend to misunderstand him.

"I was thinking of swimming for it," she confessed. "I'm still in pretty good shape -"

"Great shape," he interrupted her.

"And if I could make into the international shipping lanes, flag down a cargo ship..."

"At least you haven't given it too much thought, Lois," he laughed.

"Oh, Lois, it's always good to hear from my favorite pregnant patient," Klein said cheerfully. "Well, my *only* pregnant patient, actually--"

"Dr. Klein," she said softly. "I need your help."

"Though if I had other pregnant--"

"Dr. *Klein*!"

Lois heard a glass-breaking sound in the background and Klein sighing loudly. "There's a stain that won't come out," he muttered.

"Dr. Klein, I *need* your help."

"I'm sorry, Lois. I heard about Superman at the UN. I don't mind him wanting to take over the world, really, but he sounded a little ... well ... nuts."

The District Attorney smiled a smile so oily one of the officers next to him slipped out of his chair and fell to the floor. "Well, we all know that Superman is in *love* with Lois Lane," he drawled, "so clearly he was lying."

"So if Superman lies on the witness stand, I guess that means the city needs to throw out all the criminals his testimony has put away in the last 3 1/2 years, huh? How many has it been ... four .. five thousand?"

Everyone in the courtroom blanched.

"Oh, well, we didn't say *that*," the judge fumbled, looking at the District Attorney in a panic.

The District Attorney wiped his brow. "No, no, I didn't say that ... I mean, after all, it would be a disaster for my campaign if the people found out that I allowed that many criminals to be put back on the street." He looked nervously around the courtroom. "But no one is going to tell anyone, right?"

Every reporter in the room made a dive for their cell phones.

"Damn."

"Oh. Well, anyway," Loispunzel drew herself up to her full
height (which was considerably taller by the way than
Lex's, even without the addition of several cut- throat
mercenaries) and eyed him imperiously. "You should take it
as read, good sir, that various and sundry unpleasant
things shall happen to you henceforth and futurewith should
you continue with this evil plot against the royal persons
of myself and my father. Furthermore - "

"Can we just take it as read?" Lex interrupted. "This goes
on for another four pages if I recall correctly, doesn't
it?"

"Five, I think," admitted Loispunzel. "Mr Crispin added
half a page because he disagreed with clause five too." She
looked at him primly. "It's very bad manners, of course,
not to threaten and bluster fruitlessly in full. You do
realize that? But..." she sighed. "Okay. So..." She thought
for a moment, re-orientating. "Desist at once, you won't
get away with this, foul beast...various
insults...blah...blah...oh!" She brightened and waved an
dictatorial hand at him. "Now *you* say, 'You *will* be
mine, princess, so you'd better get used to it. Oh, and
laugh evilly."

"I thought the evil laugh was optional?"

"Nope. Made it mandatory last summer. After that incident
with those two kids and that cottage made of gingerbread.
Remember? That witch was given five years for cackling
instead?"

Well, he looked so...vulnerable. Lying there, huddled under his blankets. That dark hair tousled, his features shadowed. Besides, she thought with an amused twist of her lips, how could anyone who still kept his favorite Snoopy blankie in the top drawer of his bureau be anything but a great big softie?
<You keep the Woodstock tooth mug you got for your third birthday in your - >
Yes, well that was entirely different! Not the same thing at all. They weren't talking about her, she told her other half primly. They were talking about Clark.
Yes. Clark.
She sighed. An enigma wrapped up in a mystery bundled up in a Snoopy blanket.

"Look at it this way. Now that you know, I won't have to make stupid excuses to run off and save the day anymore. You can make the stupid excuses for me."

(the story that taught me how to spell epiphany [Goofy] )

Ralph’s head shot up, and he shoved the papers back into position. “Oh, hi, Clark!” he called, pasting on a bright smile. “I was just, ah, looking for a pen!”

But Clark wasn’t finished with him. He crossed the room in a few long strides, reached his desk, and grabbed Ralph’s head in both hands. He lowered his head and kissed Ralph lovingly.

Then the Mad Professor makes a special show
DNA grenade and pistol set to go
With a gusto we admire
He shouts, "Ready, aim, FIRE!"

Clark took a deep breath and spun into a blurry version of himself. In the wake of the tornado he caused, he knocked three pictures off the kitchen wall and sent a basket of fruit that
was on the table to go flying across the room. He stopped spinning wearing only his street clothes, his new costume no where to be seen. "How was that?" He asked breathlessly.

Martha was glaring at him.

Jonathan was trying not to laugh. "Yup, no one will notice you, Son."

Clark looked around, sheepishly. "Sorry."

Martha bent to pick up broken glass. "Take it outside, you two."

"Awww Mom,"

"I mean it, take it outside! My kitchen can't handle much of this."

"Martha, it's cold outside." Jonathan protested.

Martha looked up at her husband. "That doesn't bother Clark."

"Clark is impervious to cold. I am merely human."

"So wear a coat, human." Martha smiled at her
husband.

"Hello Superman. My name is Joshua Wilkover. If
you want some supervillain name, call me The Pragmatist. By
the way, don't worry about some evil plan that you have to
stop. We have plenty of time to talk. You see, I don't have an
evil plan quite yet. I realized that if whatever plan I came up
with was actually worthwhile, I'd have to face you sooner or
later. So, I decided to get rid of you first. This way, I don't
have to split my resources between killing you and whatever
plan I come up with. Also, if I managed to kill you, I'd get
some respect from the criminal community. That would make it
easier to carry out my plan, once I came up with it. Anyway,
this way it's much easier on both of us. If I had killed you, I'd
have all the time I needed to come up with a plan. If I couldn't
kill you, you would surely stop me. This way, I don't waste
time coming up with a plan that won't work, and you don't
have to go chasing off after some missile or something. I know
that the amount of time it would take you to tie me up
wouldn't be enough to slow you down so that my plan would
work. You would know that, so having a plan wouldn't help
me escape. As for the Kryptonite, it wasn't easy. That stuff is
ASTOUNDINGLY rare. I had a LOT of trouble just getting
that little piece. I'm not sure exactly where it came from, but
the guy who stole it for me said something about ex-
government agents and a stash or something. Anyway, now
that this is all settled, you can take me to the police."

Poor cow...maybe Julie can head over and fix it.

So what did I learn from this adventure? Never max
out your dad's Amex, the Bridge City yell is an effective
mugger repellent, men with superpowers have a lot of
responsibilities so don't try to occupy their time with suicide
attempts, that the King is *still alive* at least in Mr. White's
mind, that people are more than what they seem and finally that
true love comes in different shapes, colors and fabrics and all
one has to do is stand still enough to notice it.

I know you're wondering if I totally gave up my
infatuation on Superman. The answer, no, *gosh* even Lois
carries a picture of him in her wallet . . . *Hey*, I wonder if
Clark knows??

"I must have some left from earlier that I can heat in the
microwave, it'll just be a matter of seconds, unless you're
okay with using your vision thingy to do it - can you
actually do that? I mean, do you use your powers for
anything other than blowing cool breath on cats and saving
nuclear power plants in distress? Mind you, it'd be much
better if I made some fresh coffee, I don't know why I
didn't think about it before I offered. I'm such a terrible
host," she babbled on as she set about her task, opening
and closing cupboards without paying any attention to their
contents. She snuck a glance at her guest, pasting an
awkward smile on her lips, but stopped short when she met
his gaze.

He was smiling. No, he was *laughing*. *Superman* was
laughing at her.

The ficus tree rustled unhappily. The unfamiliar human,
small and flower-scented, had come right up to self as soon
as it had arrived, and the words it had addressed to self
had sounded vaguely sympathetic. Then it had moved into
the kitchen area, from where self often heard the sound of
running water, and self had dared to hope for a minute that
it would actually bring self a drink.

But then the big human had arrived, smelling strongly of
something sweet and spicy, and there had been lots more
words, but no water sounds at all. Now the big one had
gone again, in quite a hurry but without its usual
swooshing noise; and the small one was just standing there,
stone still, breathing rapidly and unevenly.

At last it moved, coming across the floor towards self.
Still no water smell. The couch let out a little puff of
dust as the human picked up whatever it had dropped there
when it first came in. Then its footsteps scuffed up the
stairs and paused beside the door.

"You can get your shower now," it said; and a few seconds
later, the lock clicked behind it. It was gone.

Self wilted a little.

He'd never liked the man, anyway. And the feeling had been quite mutual. Jimmy knew that, given the chance, Wilson would never pass up the occasion to make him suffer. In fact, he was progressively becoming paranoid: he was pretty sure that Wilson wouldn't hesitate to kill him if he could.

Well, he wouldn't be given the chance.

At least, once chopped into pieces, Tank Wilson wouldn't be able to inflict more horrifying haircuts onto other Planet employees. Thank God he hadn't taken care of Lois yet! Though Jimmy didn't doubt that Tank was seriously thinking about the possibility. What would Jimmy become f that happened?

Tank approached him with the confidence that always characterised him when he talked to the young Planet photographer. Somehow, only Lois Lane seemed to intimidate him a little - Jimmy
suspected that Tank had a crush on her, but why would he want to slaughter her hair then escaped him.

"Olsen," Wilson acknowledged with just enough politeness to set Jimmy's teeth on edge.

Jimmy Olsen didn't wait one second longer before he lifted his heavy axe. The head that rolled onto the alley a second later still sported that cheerful grin, but at least Jimmy knew that it couldn't be associated with evil haircuts any more.

Suddenly, a rock near Lex's flattened, eaten, and incinerated body was mysteriously pushed aside, and several tiny people approximately six inches in height emerged from under it. They were clad in antique clothing, reminiscent of the 16th or 17th century, with tiny gold buckles on their hats, belts, and shoes. They ran up to the scene of the disaster and immediately started dancing on Lex's remains.

Poor cow...maybe Julie can head over and fix it.

In front of him wasn't, as there should have been, a statue of Lois Lane and Superman. Instead there was a representation, carved out of black marble, of an overweight man with an unruly mop of curly hair, a double chin and a beer gut. And was that a *tattoo* on his right
forearm?

"You know, yesterday, I didn't really have time to get a good look at that outfit up close. You did a good job on it, Martha. It fits him like a glove."

Martha's eyes had been bouncing back and forth from the young woman's smile to her son's frown until Lois turned to her. Martha's eyes met sparkling brown ones and widened as she whispered. "How did you know I made it?"

"I seriously doubt he'd go to anyone else. For reasons of modesty as well as others." Glancing over at Clark, Lois shook her head. "He's still extremely self-conscious in it, isn't he? We'll have to work on that. Although, he shouldn't have to worry too much. One thing is a given, not a single woman in the world is going to be paying attention to a thing he says."

"Or looking at his face."

Both Lois and Martha burst into giggles and Clark looked over at his father. He didn't get any help from that direction, because Jonathan looked like he was about to choke trying to hold back his laughter. Clark started tapping his foot. "Excuse me, but I AM standing right here."

"How could we miss you?"

Another round of giggles followed that hysterical whisper from Lois.

Eek!!

"She's awake," a soft male voice whispers.

"About time!"

I bolt upright and turn my head towards the sound. A woman,
her arms crossed in front of her chest, is standing at the
foot of the bed. She is staring rather belligerently down
at me.

"You... you... you're..."

"Cover yourself!" she snaps.

Hastily, I draw up the coverlet and hold it bunched up
under my chin. Suddenly, I'm wide awake.

"What do you mean - cover yourself? You're in my bedroom!"

"She's got a point, honey."

Amusement tinges the well-known velvety male voice and I
turn my head once again to gape at him.

Him! It's really him!

"Okay, that's enough! Stop ogling my husband. We'll wait
for you in the living room. Join us as soon as you've put
on something decent."

"Ah, Lois...I...ah...I have to...ah...put more change in the meter. Be right back." Before Lois could reply, he was gone in a flash.

“Twenty thousand dollars," Lois muttered to herself, shaking her head. "And he runs off. Again."

As the mayor droned on, Clark moved up behind Lois and started kissing her neck. Lois bit her lip. "Affectionate tonight, isn't he?"

The mayor smiled. "Why, yes, how ... lucky you are. I think I'll be heading back to my own husband."

"Mingle, mingle," Clark whispered next to Lois's neck.

"Clark, what is the matter with you!" she said, spinning around to face him.

"I love how you dance," he said airily.

"Please come into the kitchen with me ... *now*"

Clark shrugged and followed his wife, but not before Klein grabbed his sleeve. "Nice party, Mr. Kent.

"Bernie!" Clark said loudly. "Call me Clark. That guy in tights has said some 'super' things about you."

Klein blinked. "I'm flattered."

Clark nodded. "I used to be soooo jealous of Superman. My wife was so hung up on him."

"Oh, God," Lois whispered.

"Does he *eat?*" she addressed the TV in a sarcastic tone. "You don't know the half of it, lady! Any*thing*, any *time*, any*where!* And spicy?! Why don't you offer him a nice bomb vindaloo?"

<Stop it, Kent!> he commanded himself, aghast. He was *not* attracted to that juvenile delinquent! That *male* juvenile delinquent! Clark recoiled at the unbidden thought.

Clark looked down at the paper in his hand and started to read. "Don't you recognize me?" He whipped the cape around his face and said in a deeper voice, "I am the terror that flaps in the night." He looked from one side of her apartment to the other, hoping to look menacing -- like the script told him.

Lois, what...happened to these carrots?”

“Oh, that’s not my fault. The recipe called for shaved carrots, but the grocery story must have been out, because I couldn’t find them anywhere. So I had to make a substitution.”

Clark’s jaw dropped and he sputtered for words.

“What?”

“Carrots don’t come already shaved. You have to shave them yourself.”

“Really? With what? How?” Ridiculous visions of her Lady Gillette razor flitted through her head.

Their eyes locked, and suddenly Clark felt compelled to say something. "Lois, will you marry me?"

The suddenness of the question took Lois back for a moment, but she quickly recovered and found herself saying, "Yes!"

"Cows don't like to be kept waiting when
they need to be milked."

"I guess not," Lois agreed, grimacing. "Nothing like a
deadline that protests loudly when you miss it!"

"So," he said, sounding for all the world like someone still having a
leisurely conversation over Chinese take out. Just a Kansas farm
boy, huh? "Are you shot at often?"

Lois smiled, unable to resist her chance to tease him again. "And
just what makes you so sure they're not shooting at you?"
He wasn't so easily thrown off balance this time. "Oh, darn. I
forgot. I never should have robbed that bank. Those Smallville cops
will track to the ends of the earth.

Scardino's stomach lurched in a way he hadn't felt in quite a while. In fact, he'd not felt anything quite like it since Lois had thrown him over in favour of that do-gooding boy scout, Clark K-

No, he thought. He wasn't going to think about that.

He concentrated on the woman he'd just spotted, felt that delicious lurch again, and decided that it was enough to say that he hadn't felt anything quite like since Lois. (Well, there had been the incident with a dodgy prawn vindaloo last month, but that had been less of a lurch and more of a roil, and Scardino was pretty certain that didn't count.)

"You know. You're the villain, you've got me tied up and you're about to dispose of me -- now is the perfect time to explain everything, since of course I'm not going to be able to do anything
about it."

Comprehension dawned. "Oh yeah, right, like on TV. Well, forget it. We're not characters in a TV show, and--"

He was interrupted by a whooshing sound as a streak of sound, light, and movement invaded the warehouse, zipping around faster than the human eye could follow. When the whirlwind ceased, Lois was standing free next to the chair, and Clark was chained in her place. In front of them both stood a young hero in a blue outfit with splashes of red and yellow. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and did his best to look stern.

"Oh, you saved me!" Lois gushed. "But who are you, stranger?"

The hero shifted uncomfortably, and mumbled, "Mo-om! Stop it." He squared his shoulders once more and stated firmly, "My name is Whirlwind, and I'm here to help."

"I'm not sure where he is, Perry."

"Liar," Clark replied.

Lois ignored him to continue to answer Perry's question.

Lois and Clark hadn't gotten through the door and been into the main ballroom more than three minutes before Jimmy Olsen, dressed as Robin, the Boy Wonder, sought them out and cornered them. "Whoa,CK, Lois -- nice costumes."

She gazed at him for a while and she noticed that his covers had been thrown
off. She knelt next to him and pulled the covers up a bit. Her hand traveled
further up to his face as if to caress him, but without touching him.

"I love you so much..." she whispered.

Clark opened his eyes wide. Despite the darkness in the room Lois noticed
this. She clapped her hand over her mouth, almost as if she had said
something wrong, or as if she were fearful of something. She suddenly got up
and drew back from him.

Clark stood up, seeing her reaction.

"I'm sorry... I wouldn't... I shouldn't--"

He was as oblivious to what was homing in on him, bearing down on him like a
Mack truck, as a blind rabbit grazing unwarily on discarded cabbage in the
fast lane.

The very next day, she fell from the observation deck of the Metropolis Planetarium. Up until Lois nearly died, it had been a wonderful night.

"Open manhole" and "STAR Labs break-in" had already been checked off. "Held at gunpoint", which had seemed like a pipe dream when she'd written it, had been made possible by Clark, himself. Lois checked it off with no small satisfaction.

"Next up, man-eating shark."

Anyway, this is Rat's Burnout (for which we are still waiting for a sequel! Nag nag nag!).

Looking at the still large stack of papers on his lap, Lois ventured, "And what else? I'm almost afraid to ask."

"Well, there are a whole bunch of different ones here that I'm sure you'd get a big a kick out of as I did, but it's not just the stories I find interesting--it's some of these authors. Take these stories, for example."

He handed Lois another large stack of papers. "They're written by some morbid guy named Grenade...no, Tank," he corrected, leaning over to verify the author's name on the top sheet. "I mean, what must his life be like to write such depressing endings for *fun*??"

"NOW, HOLD ON A MINUTE HERE!" he shouted, waving his arms.

Everyone in the courtroom stopped what they were doing, and turned to him in amazement. Even Lois looked surprised.

"Mr. Kent?" the judge asked with a roll of his eyes. "What do you think you're doing?"

"This is crazy!" Clark exclaimed, looking around to include everyone in the room in his comments. "How could you possibly have found her guilty? This episode has plot holes so big you could drive a truck through them!"

A science-fiction geek with a sense of humour? Stifling a grin, Lois replied, “Well, I’ve never danced with an evil interplanetary overlord before, so I guess I could give it a
try.”

Darth inclined his head. “I’m honoured.”

She went into his arms in an easy movement, and found him an excellent dancer. “They must teach you well on the Death Star.”

“Subliminal programming,” her partner deadpanned. “Uploaded to our brains every night as we sleep. The Empire doesn’t like wasting time.”

“Efficient,” she agreed. “Do they also pre-programme you to treat women as equals? Because if not I’m not sure that I can afford to be seen with you...”

“Women, equals?” Darth queried. She could hear his incredulous tone even through the distortion of his helmet. Actually, she thought, he had to be really hot under there, especially given that his outfit was made of PVC too. “That does not compute,” he said solemnly.

Lois rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to be Darth Vader, not Mr Spock!”

It shattered with a loud crash and she saw him fall forward.

Omigod! She'd killed Clark!!

"I'm fine, Lois. Calm down," he said, turning around to look up at her.

"I... I... hit you with a Kerth! Not my good one; there was really no competition that year, but Clark, I saw it happen. The statue shattered, and you fell."

“He’ll never get a girlfriend now!”

Clark stared at his reflection in the mirror and didn’t respond.

“That’s why he’s cutting his hair to begin with,” Jonathan said in a stage whisper.

“He has a girlfriend?” Martha looked unflatteringly stunned.

“No, Mom.”

“No, Martha. He overheard a certain domineering, uncompromising, pigheaded, brilliant woman saying his haircut was ridiculous.”

“What? I never said such a thing!”

Both Clark and Jonathan looked at Martha steadily. She blushed. “Oh, that was Lois. Right.”

Wasn't that always the way? People who kissed other people they shouldn't kiss in snowbound cabins for no good reason other than it 'seemed like a good idea at the time' always ended up being eaten by werewolves. Or axed to death by Jason in a ski mask, she considered. Usually around about the second reel.

"If a man speaks in a forest, and there's no woman around,
is he still wrong?"

"The three major food groups: Drive-Thru, Take-Out, and
Delivery."

"Can vegetarians eat animal crackers?"

"Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large
groups."

"What if the Hokey-Pokey really *is* what it's all about?"

"If at first you don't succeed...sky diving's not for you."

And with each one, she was told to smile -- it confuses
people.