In the funeral home, I covertly checked to see if Clark was watching, and when I saw that it would be within his line of vision, but that he wasn't looking directly at me, I scribbled on a piece of paper and slipped it near the director. Sure enough, Clark's journalistic instinct and hard-won experience with Luthor mechanisms won and as we waited, for the director to look in his scheduling book, he wandered over, casually, and glanced quickly at it. I was pleased, both that his Jonathan Kent ethics were wearing off and that he would read the directions as I had planned.
It said, simply, "Whatever he wants, no matter what, quote him a price of about $2200 for the total package. I'll make up the difference." I'd written the first two phrases vehemently and added several underlines. After Clark had read it, I caught a curious glance or two from him and pretended total obliviousness.
He let me guide him through the whole process, after I let drop that after my mother's death, my father insisted that I help arrange the funeral, to teach me that life goes on. Even under these conditions, he still looked at me with the uncertainty of a puppy who wants to share a favorite bone but isn't sure that it will make master happy again. It wasn't difficult, once he'd agreed to expensive burl walnut coffins, to get him to agree to the high-end ecoutrements. The funeral director had no inhibitions.
Back in the limo, he muttered, "I've got to call Perry when we get to the farm, tell him what happened and when I'll be back."
"See if you can take some time off. You need time to readjust and to get things in order." I knew he'd have plenty of time, given Maria's skillful hack.
There weren't any rocks in the kitchen so I leaned against a chair as Clark made the call.
"Hi, Perry, it's Clark."
His face changed at what was doubtless a hostile greeting.
"What?"
"I did what?"
"Perry, I honestly-"
"You'll mail what?"
"Listen, there's got to be some mistake, I wouldn't *say* things like that."
"Please, I don't-"
He hung up, apparently after his editor finished the conversation by hanging up on him, and looked shaken.
"What is it, Clark?"
"Perry says that I resigned. And that I sent a really nasty letter to everybody."
"Let me." I crossed the room and hit the redial button, gesturing for Clark to put his head near mine so he could listen.
"Mr. White, this is Lex Luthor."
"Yes, Mr. Luthor?"
"Clark's parents just died, they killed themselves." I reassuringly squeezed Clark's shoulder as I said this. "He was in a great deal of shock at the time, his behavior was very erratic. He genuinely does not remember writing or sending the letter. In fact, Mr. White, he called to tell you what happened and that he'll be back after the funeral. Could you decline to accept his resignation?"
There was a long pause. "If he'd sent the letter just to me, like a shot. But he emailed the entire staff and was viciously insulting to everybody. Frankly, if I took him back, we'd have a mass exodus from the rest of the staff."
"Viciously insulting doesn't sound like Clark at all. His job means everything to him now."
"According to him, he's delighted to be rid of associating with the superficial and know-it-all Lois Lane, the bumbling Jimmy Olsen whom we keep on out of pity and a need for comic relief, and Gloria, the secretary who would put out for everybody if anybody wanted her. Just to share some of the milder invective with you."
"Mr. White, I think that letter even proves that Clark wasn't himself when he wrote that. It's possible that the Americans with Disabilities Act would cover such a situation. I can get my attorneys to look into it if you like." Clark would have to get used to hearing the occasional veiled threat. Then the not so veiled.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Luthor, but we have a file of unexplained absences on Clark's part. We've overlooked them largely because he's been otherwise reliable and a respectable team player but we'd be able to fight for his termination on those grounds."
"Mr. White, then let me ask that you reinstate him as a personal favor. Perhaps some kind of gesture towards your staff might alleviate any rancor?"
"Daily Planet staff aren't as bribeable as most others, you'll find. Or is that you have found already?"
"Clark deserves another chance."
"At another paper, perhaps. But he's no longer welcome here. Is there anything else, Mr. Luthor?"
"Unless I can talk you into some human decency and compassion, no. Wait, I'm sorry I said that, I apologize."
"It didn't change the situation. Goodbye, Mr. Luthor. Tell Clark we're mailing his last paycheck."
As I hung up, I looked Clark in the face. "What did you do, Clark?"
He sat at the kitchen table and buried his face in his hands. "I don't know, I don't remember anything."
"I'll get you another job. You can put all this behind you."
"Thanks, Lex, but...I've got to handle this on my own. I'll send them all an apology, that's the least I can do. God, I can't believe I did that." He looked up with woe-begone eyes. "I mean, sometimes I've thought things like that, when people were annoying, just the way that sometimes you have an unkind moment, but I *like* them. I like them all. I must have hurt their feelings so badly."
Poor sweet boy scout.
It said, simply, "Whatever he wants, no matter what, quote him a price of about $2200 for the total package. I'll make up the difference." I'd written the first two phrases vehemently and added several underlines. After Clark had read it, I caught a curious glance or two from him and pretended total obliviousness.
He let me guide him through the whole process, after I let drop that after my mother's death, my father insisted that I help arrange the funeral, to teach me that life goes on. Even under these conditions, he still looked at me with the uncertainty of a puppy who wants to share a favorite bone but isn't sure that it will make master happy again. It wasn't difficult, once he'd agreed to expensive burl walnut coffins, to get him to agree to the high-end ecoutrements. The funeral director had no inhibitions.
Back in the limo, he muttered, "I've got to call Perry when we get to the farm, tell him what happened and when I'll be back."
"See if you can take some time off. You need time to readjust and to get things in order." I knew he'd have plenty of time, given Maria's skillful hack.
There weren't any rocks in the kitchen so I leaned against a chair as Clark made the call.
"Hi, Perry, it's Clark."
His face changed at what was doubtless a hostile greeting.
"What?"
"I did what?"
"Perry, I honestly-"
"You'll mail what?"
"Listen, there's got to be some mistake, I wouldn't *say* things like that."
"Please, I don't-"
He hung up, apparently after his editor finished the conversation by hanging up on him, and looked shaken.
"What is it, Clark?"
"Perry says that I resigned. And that I sent a really nasty letter to everybody."
"Let me." I crossed the room and hit the redial button, gesturing for Clark to put his head near mine so he could listen.
"Mr. White, this is Lex Luthor."
"Yes, Mr. Luthor?"
"Clark's parents just died, they killed themselves." I reassuringly squeezed Clark's shoulder as I said this. "He was in a great deal of shock at the time, his behavior was very erratic. He genuinely does not remember writing or sending the letter. In fact, Mr. White, he called to tell you what happened and that he'll be back after the funeral. Could you decline to accept his resignation?"
There was a long pause. "If he'd sent the letter just to me, like a shot. But he emailed the entire staff and was viciously insulting to everybody. Frankly, if I took him back, we'd have a mass exodus from the rest of the staff."
"Viciously insulting doesn't sound like Clark at all. His job means everything to him now."
"According to him, he's delighted to be rid of associating with the superficial and know-it-all Lois Lane, the bumbling Jimmy Olsen whom we keep on out of pity and a need for comic relief, and Gloria, the secretary who would put out for everybody if anybody wanted her. Just to share some of the milder invective with you."
"Mr. White, I think that letter even proves that Clark wasn't himself when he wrote that. It's possible that the Americans with Disabilities Act would cover such a situation. I can get my attorneys to look into it if you like." Clark would have to get used to hearing the occasional veiled threat. Then the not so veiled.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Luthor, but we have a file of unexplained absences on Clark's part. We've overlooked them largely because he's been otherwise reliable and a respectable team player but we'd be able to fight for his termination on those grounds."
"Mr. White, then let me ask that you reinstate him as a personal favor. Perhaps some kind of gesture towards your staff might alleviate any rancor?"
"Daily Planet staff aren't as bribeable as most others, you'll find. Or is that you have found already?"
"Clark deserves another chance."
"At another paper, perhaps. But he's no longer welcome here. Is there anything else, Mr. Luthor?"
"Unless I can talk you into some human decency and compassion, no. Wait, I'm sorry I said that, I apologize."
"It didn't change the situation. Goodbye, Mr. Luthor. Tell Clark we're mailing his last paycheck."
As I hung up, I looked Clark in the face. "What did you do, Clark?"
He sat at the kitchen table and buried his face in his hands. "I don't know, I don't remember anything."
"I'll get you another job. You can put all this behind you."
"Thanks, Lex, but...I've got to handle this on my own. I'll send them all an apology, that's the least I can do. God, I can't believe I did that." He looked up with woe-begone eyes. "I mean, sometimes I've thought things like that, when people were annoying, just the way that sometimes you have an unkind moment, but I *like* them. I like them all. I must have hurt their feelings so badly."
Poor sweet boy scout.