Name that Tune
By: Yvette Jessen
He had music on the brain and couldn’t shake it to save his life. What Clark Kent wouldn’t give for something, anything to get these songs out of his head once and for all.
“Come fly with me, let’s fly, let’s fly away…” he began to sing as he stepped of the elevator with the same panache as Michael Bublé or Harry Connick, Jr. “If you can use some exotic moves then…”
“…Excuse me?” Lois asked as she nudged him and the words to the song literally dropped from his mouth as though he had been fed a fist full of cotton candy. “Clark, if you go around singing that song, then it may just happen that someone figures out that a cheap pair of glasses hide the eyes of…” her voice trailed and she began to swoon as she allowed her weight to drop into her partner’s arms. “…You know who.”
Clark leaned over and began to purr in her ear. “Only you, can make this world seem right…”
Lois’ eyes rolled as she looked at him. “What are you trying to do, make me feel weak in the knees?”
“I’m sorry, Lois, but ever since I went to that jazz club last night with Cat to get some information for a side story we’re writing, I’ve had nothing in my head except the lyrics to some classic jazz songs.”
“Nothing in your head?” Jimmy asked as he inched over to Clark. “You know CK, you talk like that then someone may think that you’ve lost your marbles.”
“I’m serious you two,” Clark muttered. “I am feeling like ‘the music man’ on a jolt.”
Jimmy looked at Lois, who shrugged her shoulders and Perry came out of his office, the editor was now humming the Elvis song, ‘Are You Lonesome Tonight’, and when he disappeared around the corner, Clark began to dance around and sing.
“Are you lonesome tonight,” Clark began to sing and Lois groaned loudly as the lyrics just emerged as though they were well rehearsed. “Do you miss me tonight…”
“Clark, if you don’t cool it, then you will be lonesome tonight, and tomorrow night and the night after that,” Lois said pointedly, her brown eyes literally dancing. “Now tell me how you started with this singing stuff anyway.”
“I don’t know, it just feels as though everytime I start to say something, it turns into a song,” Clark said softly. “I’m sorry, so sorry…” He began to sing as he went over to his desk and turned on the computer as yet another song escaped him. “She gives me Fever, with her kisses, fever when she holds me tight…Fever!”
This time the singing had gotten too loud because the last word emerged as an out of tune shout, thus causing everyone in the newsroom to hear it and a number of them turned around and stared. Some of them were sighing, and others began to mutter about not being able to get any work done because of Clark, the walking Karaoke machine, meandering around.
“Hey Kent,” One of the reporters from across the room shouted in Clark’s direction. “You taking requests?”
Clark’s face flushed, he knew what was coming next. Before he could respond to the question, the reporter shouted. “Beat It!”
Jimmy began to chuckle, but Clark looked at the reporter completely deadpan, and spoke, “that’s not jazz, Marty, that’s rock-n-roll.”
“Yes, with a very distinctive message affixed. Now if you want to do Karaoke, or acapella, then go do it elsewhere,” The reporter shouted.
“Music hater,” Clark grumbled and looked at Lois. “You don’t dislike my music, do you, Lois?”
“Well, Clark, let’s just say there’s a time and place for everything…” she began, but his singing once more interrupted her.
“…Lovely, don’t you ever change, keep that breathless charm, won’t you please arrange it because I looooooove you…” Clark’s singing turned into a serenade and Lois blushed somewhat when he wrapped her in his arms and crooned the rest of the song softly in her ear.
“Maybe I can get used to that just a little bit, but I think that I’m going to leave and head for home now…care to join me Clark ‘I’m stuck on jazz’ Kent?”
“Be glad to, Lois, 'I like it when he croons Bublé’ Lane. But, the truth is, I’m not *totally* stuck on Jazz, Lois,” Clark said as the two of them walked towards the elevator and he began to sing once again, this time an improvisation on an old Barry Manilow tune.
“Her name was Lois
She was my girlfriend
With dark brown curls in her hair
And killer dress cut down to there.”
“Clark, you’re about ten seconds away from a fat lip,” she looked at him with exasperation, as she watched as a quiet sigh settled over the newsroom and the elevator doors closed. “Now I know what is going on, ever since you did that little musical side story with Cat last night, you have been either singing or quoting songs every time you open your mouth.” She looked at him intently as she wrapped her arms around him and gazed into his eyes. “Now, I for one would like to know if you can do something with that sweet little mouth of yours besides sing.”
“I can drink cappuccinos with five lumps of sugar, eat twinkies and dingdongs and then for dessert a full bag of gummibears,” Clark said innocently.
“Never mind,” Lois sighed. “Now I know what it feels like when Superman gets stuck on a song…he doesn’t get stuck on one, he gets stuck on the entire ‘b-side’.”
Ende…
Oh yeah, with thanks going out to Michael Bublé, Harry Connick, Jr. as well as all my favorite singers to write by...this is what happens when fan fiction and jazz mix.
