Author's note: This section references events, and uses dialogue, from the movies "Superman II" and "Superman II: The Donner Cut."
Step Eleven: Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.
**********
Perry roared, laughing so hard he whooped for breath. He usually took a few minutes at the beginning of the day to read a meditation and consider it. It helped him realize his priorities for the day, helped him work the program, be honest, maintain his sobriety. And frequently he read another meditation at other times, especially when the chaos of the Planet called for a moment's thought.
But this time, he was reading something a little different. A friend of his had recommended "Seasons In Hell", by Mike Shropshire, a memoir of the author's three years as a baseball beat writer for the Texas Rangers from 1973 to 1975.
The author had conceded that in those years, "I was something of a drinking man", and the story he wrote made Perry agree with the cover blurb: "The Single Funniest Sports Book I Have Ever Read."
Right now Perry roared over Chapter Eight. The author wrote in the first person:
(On an airplane flight with the Texas Rangers team) I was scanning the current issue of Reader's Digest and happened upon a feature headlined, "Are You An Alcoholic?" To find out, the reader was requested to answer twenty simple questions "Yes" or "No."
Well, I knew what an alcoholic was, but decided to take the quiz anyway. I assure you I am loosely paraphrasing the actual text of the Reader's Digest article.
Q 1. Do you ever consume more than two drinks in the span of one month?
Q 2. Have you ever consumed more than two drinks in one day?
Q 3. Do you sometimes feel the need to drink in order to enhance your enjoyment of certain social occasions?
Q 4. Have you ever had so much to drink that you cannot entirely remember events of the night before on the morning after?
Q 5. Do you ever vary the types of alcoholic beverages you consume at social occasions? By that, I guessed they meant normal drinking patterns where you switch from beer to wine to gin to rye to Clorox bleach or any other damn thing you can get your hands on when you're the only one still left at the party and the supplies are getting short.
Some quiz, I thought. How many of these Reader's Digest magazines do they sell in a month? A billion? Why do they think they have to win over the Hare Krishnas, too?
Then, whoever concocted the quiz turned up the volume a little. The questions became more realistic as the thing went along. I don't remember all the questions word for word, but the last ones went something like this:
Q 15: Do all the girls look prettier at closing time? (Yes, but the boys don't, thank God.)
Q 16: Do you ever hide alcohol? (Ha! My first 'no.' Hide my booze? Why the hell should I? A man's home is his castle.)
Q 17. Have you ever had grotesque or terrifying hallucinations, like you're being attacked by a giant flying lizard?
Q 18. Have you, after having too much to drink, shaved your head or painted your genitals purple?
Q 19. Have you ever passed out while smoking in bed but didn't set anything on fire because you'd pissed all over the mattress?
Q 20. Have you ever driven your car over Niagara Falls?
What a snap. Five "no's". I hollered to the stewardess –this was before the politically correct "flight attendant" – to bring me two or three more of those miniature liquor bottles while I turned the page and received some very interesting news. The test person said that if you registered even one "yes" then you were a big-time alkie. "Head to the nearest county hospital, if you can manage to get your car key into the ignition, and check into detox right away, because, brother, you are fuked up."
Or words to that effect. What a revelation! Not only was I an alcoholic, but according to the standards of Reader's Digest, so was everyone seated on that airplane. So was everyone in the last eight generations of my family, and in fact, every human being I had encountered since grade school.
Most of my more pragmatic social companions and working associates by far had chosen to avoid AA and instead join AAA, an organization that will tow your car out of a ditch in the predawn hours. As the plane drifted into its final approach, I watched while most of the ballplayers began stuffing the little airline booze bottles into barf bags so that relief supplies would be available on the bus ride from the airport to the hotel. How dare Reader's Digest suggest that these professional athletes couldn't control their drinking activities.
Having pondered the overall content of the quiz, my initial impulse was to head to the nearest pay phone when the plane landed, call whoever it was that devised that quiz, and propose that he do what I had done and sign on with this…this roving airborne madness for thirty days, after which time, I wager, he himself would become the first person ever to score a perfect 20-for-20 in the "yes" column.
The reality was that at age thirty-one I realized my drinking easily exceeded the accepted norms of the general population and ranked me in the top half of my class within the ranks of working print journalists. Only after entering this association with the Texas Rangers baseball team had I found a work-and-social grouping in which my personal consumption fell at mid-range. After extensive observation, the conclusion was that I drank more than the infielders but not as much as the pitchers.
Perry leaned over, laughing his head off. He'd been there. And thank God, he was out of there.
Later on, Perry realized it was a good thing he'd laughed so hard that morning. When he heard the news about the three aliens who landed – they must be Kryptonian, they have the same powers as Superman. Uh-oh – they don't plan on using their powers to help – he didn't laugh again for quite some time.
*************
"No, no! There's three of them!" Perry said vehemently. "That cockamamie general, and a big truck with hair on it, and a broad that looks like the queen of the runway!"
He'd been following the news all day, seeing all that the human race could do against the invaders dealt with as easily as a man could swat a fly. Despite the cold tinge in his stomach, Perry vowed that the Daily Planet would cover the story. If the story was the conquest of Earth, well, too bad, but Planet reporters would write it.
He paced back and forth in his office, Jimmy Olsen and Lois Lane behind him. "Anything Superman can do, they can do!" Perry expostulated. He grabbed a cup of coffee from a passing gofer. "Where is he, anyway?"
"Maybe he hasn't heard about it yet, Chief," Jimmy offered. Lois remained uncharacteristically silent.
Perry headed for his desk chair.
"Maybe – " Jimmy went on.
Perry interrupted. "Maybe he's just run out of guts." He never thought he'd say such a thing about Superman, but where was Big Blue? Superman had come before at the least disaster. Heck, he'd even rescued cats from trees! Now, when he might be faced with something that might work up a sweat, Superman was missing. Perry hated to think that the Man of Steel might be a coward. Turning to Jimmy, he snarled, "And don't call me Chief!"
"Look, he'll be here," Lois said intently. She seemed miserable, Perry thought, but he had no time to spare for winkling the details of whatever it was out of her. "If there's any way at all, he'll be here."
Perry went to reply but sat down as tremors shook the building. Earthquakes? Metropolis isn't in a fault zone.
As if channeling Perry's thoughts, Jimmy blurted out, "Sounds like an earthquake."
Perry's office door blew off its hinges. Smoke and dust obscured the sight of fleeing Planet staffers in the newsroom. Perry could hear their frightened screams all too clearly, though.
Perry's eyes widened as he saw the being who he had recently described as "a big truck with hair on it". It was the Kryptonian – Non? His name was?
Whatever his name, right at this moment, the alien was casually breaking the glass windows of Perry's office with his fists. The flying glass did no damage, but Perry saw Jimmy bleeding from a small cut gotten before the young photographer had taken cover.
"It's those three!" Perry found himself saying. In the background, he could hear his staff shouting. "Stop!" "Oh my God, they're here now!" "Oh no!" His knees trembled as the other two Kryptonians stepped through the ruins of the door.
The woman – Ursa, she had been called on the TV news – did indeed have the body of a supermodel. The black leather outfit, in other circumstances, might have been alluring. But the flat cruelty in her eyes ruined the ensemble.
And the other man – smaller than the hulking behemoth, but much more dangerous. The lack of expression on his face didn't hide the light of insanity in his eyes. Perry could see that right off. He'd seen world leaders kneeling before this man. "Kneel before Zod," the man had said. And so far, everyone had. That is, everyone who was still alive. Those who hadn't were dead.
The click of a shutter broke Perry out of his reverie. That kid, Olsen, showing a suicidal drive, was snapping picture after picture of the three rogue Kryptonians. Perry sat down at his desk chair in disbelief. Some fools attempted to tackle Non. The giant, still not speaking, threw them easily aside, then followed up by throwing Perry's file cabinet through one of the few remaining unbroken glass walls. Perry shrank back in his chair at the display. He wasn't the only one – Lois and Jimmy hid in a corner.
Suddenly angry at the desecration of his newsroom, and worried about his people, Perry fought back. In a gesture that surprised even himself, he reached for a metallic globe that sat on his desk, and threw it at Non. It bounced off Non's head, doing no damage. Non grimaced, and hammered his fist in one heavy blow on Perry's desk. The desk split in two.
The hulking behemoth advanced toward Perry. Perry's life flashed in front of his eyes – he'd always wondered if that really happened, and now he could testify that it did. Strangely enough, his primary emotion was regret. Regret that he'd missed so many opportunities, missed so many times to tell the people that he loved that he loved them. Perry cowered back as the giant advanced on him and grabbed him by the neck.
He saw stars as his head hit the ceiling. And then, nothing.
A few minutes must have passed, because he found himself on the floor. Lois had his head in her lap, asking urgently, "You all right, Chief?"
Perry could make no answer. His head lolled.
Through his daze he heard a voice he remembered well, although he hadn't heard it for years. You did tend to remember the people that personally threatened to kill you.
"Hi," said Lex Luthor. He looked around at the destruction. Bending over and speaking in a faux-concerned tone, he said, "You should see the White House. They'll be cleaning for months."
Understanding swept across Lois' face. "Lex Luthor," she said evenly.
Jimmy chimed in, as usual. "Wouldn't you know it!" Then he squeaked as Non picked him up by the neck.
For the first time, Perry heard Zod speak. The voice sent chills down his spine. It was a voice of reason, a voice who could order thirty men killed before dawn and then eat blood sausage for breakfast without a qualm.
"This is the son of Jor-El?" the voice said, incredulously.
"No, but I bet you're a son of a –" Jimmy managed to get out a breathless defiance.
Lois overrode what would have been the photographer's final words. "Jimmy!" she said.
Zod paid no attention to his minion holding the writhing Jimmy. He turned to Lex Luthor and said, dangerously, "You promised me the son of Jor-El!"
Lex kept his sang-froid. "Yes, your grace," he said obsequiously. Perry, still dazed – but improving! – detected not-so-subtle mockery. Lex had better hope that Zod didn't pick up on it, thought Perry. Megalomaniac dictators didn't take well to mocking.
Lex went on. "But what I've given you is the next best thing." He pointed to Lois. She looked up from ministering to Perry and paled as Lex said, "You just hold on to that little lady and he'll be along."
A note of triumph in Lex's voice. "You see, they have this relationship. She does all his public relations, and he gives her every exclusive. They're the best of friends." A coarse snigger. "You know what I mean?"
Lois' face closed in. Then anger overtook her as Ursa said, "What an undemanding male this Superman must be."
With the spunk Perry adored, Lois retorted, "You could use a tuck here and there yourself, sister!" Perry squirmed. Lois, don't provoke them – don't get hurt. I couldn't bear to see you killed.
Ursa advanced on Lois. Lois let Perry's head drop to the floor with a thump. Perry moaned at the jolt of pain. It looked like a catfight was going to happen right here and it wouldn't be good for Lois.
"Wait!" Perry had never been happier to hear the voice of the intergalactic megalomaniac evil dictator. Ursa stopped at Zod's command.
Casually, Zod nodded towards Lois. "She lives, for now," he told his henchmen. Then he cast a disapproving eye at the other inhabitants of the office. With an air of someone disposing of the trash, he said, "Kill the rest, starting with him."
Perry felt a momentary burst of satisfaction that it would be Lex Luthor who would go first. He'd finally get to see Lex Luthor defeated.
But with the quick tongue and sharp mind that had kept Luthor free all these years, despite being a fugitive from justice, Lex said, "Wait! Wait! Wait, wait wait wait!"
Perry almost laughed to see Lex Luthor scuttling for cover.
"Don't you remember the White House?" Lex said ingratiatingly. "The Oval Room? We had a few laughs there."
Non growled. He wasn't much for talking, thought Perry. Of course, right now, neither was Perry. Getting hit on the head didn't do much for his verbal skills.
Lex made a dig. Indicating Non, he said to Zod, "You ought to have that fixed."
A cheerful voice called from the window. Perry looked – it wasn't the window to the newsroom. It was the outside window.
"General, haven't you heard of freedom of the press!"
Lois's cry of "Superman!" echoed Perry's whisper. Relief coursed through him. Big Blue was here. And, with sardonic amusement, Perry saw Lex rub his forehead and mutter, "Superman! Thank God!" It seemed that even Lex Luthor knew when he was in bed with a rabid wolverine.
Zod shot Lex a sharp glance.
"I mean, get him!" Lex recovered.
"Come to me, son of Jor-El!" Zod said. Perry shivered at the hate in the voice. "Kneel before Zod!"
I don't think so, Perry thought. Heavens, he was happy that the general's attention was on Superman and not himself anymore. He'd seen the lack of concern in the Kryptonians' eyes. He was nobody, nothing, an annoyance, a bug to be squashed, a fly to be swatted. And they could do it. They would do it. They would have done it, if it weren't for Superman.
Superman flew away. The three rogue Kryptonians levitated and followed him, exiting via the outside window. Shakily, Perry levered himself to his feet and stood at the window along with Lois and Jimmy.
They could see only part of what must be a super-powered battle. Based on the destruction Perry could see, Metropolis would need a major cleanup after this.
He heard Lex Luthor whisper behind him, "I never thought this thing would go the distance."
What, Perry thought. Had Lex been anticipating Superman's quick death? Obviously he didn't know the Man of Steel well. Perry had met Superman a few times, and had taken his measure automatically, the ability to assess character earned after years of dealing with people. Superman was not the kind of man who would back down, Perry knew. Superman would hang on, would hold out, wouldn't give in.
That's why Perry's gut dropped when he saw Superman turn tail and run away from Metropolis.
He turned to Lois. She looked aghast. From the newsroom, Perry could hear voices of the staffers who hadn't run or been knocked unconscious. "You can't leave us! Come back, Superman!"
Perry turned his stunned face back to Lois and Jimmy. Their pallor matched his.
Like flying ghouls, the three Kryptonians swooped back into Perry's office. They've run off Superman, he thought numbly.
Lex waved nonchalantly from his seat on the file cabinet in the corner.
Zod spoke in that pontificating tone that Perry was coming to hate. No, correction - he already hated it. "Our victory is complete. The son of Jor-El has fled."
"Superman, fled?" Jimmy said disbelievingly.
"I don't believe you," Perry said stoutly, maintaining the façade. He stood up and faced the three invaders. Lois peeked up from where she hid behind the wreckage of Perry's desk.
Lex distracted Zod from Perry's defiant attitude. "You heard him," Lex said sweetly (and mockingly) to the alien. "Three against one. You should have taken both ears and the tail."
"He fled in fear of us!" Zod said in the tone of one who was trying to convince himself.
"He'll be back," Lois said firmly. "As long as he's alive, he's going to try again."
Zod stared Lois in the face. "The next time, we will kill him."
Lex gave a snort of disgust. Perry was wondering whose side he was actually on. Of course, he was a Luthor, so that meant he was only on his own side. "The next time? The next time?" Lex shook his head. "I held up my end. I delivered you the blue boy. What do I get from my triple threat? 'Bow.' 'Yield.' 'Kneel.' That kind of stuff closes out a town."
Zod said in a tone of incredulity, "Why do you say this to me when you know I will kill you for it?"
Lex puffed himself up. "Kill me? Lex Luthor? Extinguish the greatest criminal flame of our age?" He was quite good at the impassioned declarations, Perry thought sourly. "Eradicate the only man on Earth with – "
Ursa echoed Perry's thoughts. "Let me kill him!"
" – Superman's address?" Lex finished.
Silence. Perry looked at Lois. If she was pale before, she was downright ashen now.
"What more do you want?" Zod asked Lex. "I can see the greed written on your face." Perry almost had to laugh. Maybe Lex Luthor was the greatest criminal mind of our age. He certainly was manipulating Zod like a master.
"A small incentive, O Fullest One," Lex said, again with that obsequious mockery. "A mere bauble to jog the memory." He laughed.
"What now?" Zod asked. Down to brass tacks now, thought Perry. Zod's enforcer growled and Lex's eyes automatically went to the brutish Non.
"Cuba," Lex said sweetly.
"Done!" said Zod. "Ursa will carry you. You will guide us." He cast his eye around the room, ignoring queasy Perry and shaking Jimmy. "We will take his woman."
Non advanced upon Lois. Perry gasped. "No!" he shouted. Lois cowered back as the giant took hold of her. Perry began advancing on the pair, knowing as he did that it was futile. If only he had Superman's powers! If only Superman were here! But he wasn't. And now Lois' only hope was her middle-aged editor.
Another casual swat of Non's arm, and Perry fell back against his desk. Despair coursed through him as he lost consciousness once more.
When he came to, Lois was gone.
