Author's Note
-- my first fan-fic -- if you can call it that.
Disclaimer
Despite the fate that I am Kryptonian (born and birth-chambered,) I own no rights to DC comics Superman, who is -- after all -- a comic book character, not a real person like me, who is a real Kryptonian. Really.
I am not nuts.
If "Kryptonian" is also copyright, then I am Kryp-Tonian.
My name, Kara-El, is the formal version of my common name, Kar-El, forced on me by assertion that the name Kar-El was taken.
By Rao, would the faux Kar-El show her face and let me have my true name herein?
Whatever,
CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE KRYPTONIAN SOUL -- solace for the earth-bound alien
EACH DAY…
Remind yourself that… they are a good people… blah blah blah -- because there is so much… about so many of them… that is... Just. Plain. Irritating.
Appreciate your earthly adoptive parents for what they are… weaklings that imbued you with human foibles and flaws -- and thank them. An e-card and tickets to Cirque de Soleil on their anniversary will bring them back to the good old days when you juggled hens in the chicken coop.
Refuse to get sucked into semantics with magical imps. If you close your eyes, they will og yawa.
Never lie.
Just avoid talking. Ever.
Say no to road rage. Our kind have plowed our share of mile long trenches in corn fields -- no need to repeat this on the interstate.
Control your passions -- avoid forest fires.
Learn from your mistakes -- or, at least, bury them on one of Jupiter's less important moons.
Accept your schizoid nature and wear the suit under your clothes.
Give homage to your heritage each day; subtle is good. A Day-Glo S-shield tattooed on your shaven scalp may be a sign of overreaching.
Accept the fact that there seems to be no sign of Kryptonian cuisine in existence.
TO-DO LIST
Get Martha's apple pie recipe.
Get Lois's beef bourguignon recipe.
Buy ketchup.
Find Dr Emile Hamilton and persuade him to work on a cure for last week's gold K exposure -- start in Metropolis
Find Metropolis (not that one-horse town in Illinois)
Okay… Metropolis is on the east coast -- near New York, right? Then how could it be a three-hour drive from Smallville, Kansas -- in the heart of the Midwest?
Okay… find Kansas
Wait.
Find SMALLVILLE
Okay… there's a Grandville (in English, Bigville) near Vancouver -- it's a start.
WHEN YOU FEEL DOWN…
Remember that you ran all the clubs in high school starting with the school newspaper -- with your three other non-using friends -- while everyone else, including the Principal, was stoned on maryjane.
Hey, it was the 70's.
Get over the fact that your cousin -- who shall remain nameless (kaff… KAL… kaff) -- did not have his powers robbed from him by gold K on his 21st birthday.
Thanks Rao.
Also, forgive same blood relative for never visiting or even sending a postcard to acknowledge your existence (granted, he's a little busy at the mo', what with his recent revelation that Kryptonian and Human dna are indeed compatible.)
Try not to hold a grudge that you now have to make to-do lists since your super memory took a gold K vacation.
TBC
(C) H.M.