Author's Note: Okay, we're heading somewhere…I think.
Ps/ Thank you very much for all the reviews. There has never been a better cheaper thrill than this :-)
Disclaimer: Usual disclaimer stuffs…and it wasn't me.
CHAPTER 4 – Pre-Homecoming Banters, Glitters & Jitters
THE BEANERY…pre-Homecoming
PETE
"So you think Lex Luthor will hold true to his word tonight?" I ask Clark as we sit in a booth at The Beanery, waiting for our better one/third, Chloe, who has gone off and about on Torch duties, as usual. "Lex is a man of his words Pete, we'll be riding to the Homecoming Dance in style tonight", Clark says in a voice meant to reassure me that the Luthors were not scheming, callous human beings that history forewarned them to be.
"So do you think Lana will be crowned Homecoming Queen this year?"
I follow Clark's gaze to beautiful Lana Lang, and flip him a birdie for an answer.
Although Clark has been my best friend since the first grade, sometimes I feel like double-whamming the guy when it comes to all things Lana. Clark's no troll, I can tell you that. If he were black, he'd be Denzel for sure. But ever since I've met him, he has been handicapped with his crush on the perfect Ms. Lang. Many-a-hearts have been trampled in Clark's oblivion to the member of the opposite sex, unless your initials were L.L, which stood for LANA LANG…not Lily Lambruster, not Lucy Liu and certainly not Lois Lane. I always felt that Clark was destined for greater things. If not for his face on a billboard advertising for Calvin Klein, then for some sporting glory because People! The dude has a bod of steel! And I'm not one who plays for the same team, if you catch my drift.
I am unable to understand why Clark never excels in any sports despite the obvious physique. Hey, I'm a runt and I play for the football team! For years I (and I'm sure Chloe feels the same way) had this irrational fear that one day Lana Lang would give him the time of the day and Clark Kent would get all the confidence he needs to become a legendary jock true and true.
And Chloe and I would be left in the dust, happy to have been in the presence of such a legend.
Those irrational fears have been laid to rest over the years of course, when our friendship have been grown in strength over cans of cola and cups of latte, coloring books and math quizzes, school yard bullies and subtle bigotry; all the instances where you can draw the line between friendly acquaintance and true friendship. Enmeshed with the spirit of boyhood, the presence of one Chloe Sullivan is always there; as the extra can of cola and cup of latte, the loaner of missing crayons and an extra brain for study group, the little girl kick-in-the-shins in schoolyard fights and the scathing write-ups in articles on prejudices. In our world, three is never a crowd…
Now, where the hell is Chloe??
**********
CLARK
"What's keeping Chloe?" I say to Pete as I watch Lana leave The Beanery with her cheerleading friends. No doubt to out-primp themselves for the dance tonight. Not that Lana needs it of course; she could come to the dance dressed in a gunnysack and still win the crown hands down. No contest whatsoever.
Pete seems engrossed in a conversation with his cup of latte as I look out of the window for signs of Chloe. A familiar figure passes by and enters The Beanery, walking through the doors with an aura befitting the rich and powerful. Four days ago, Lex Luthor would have walked in, ordered an espresso, sat in his usual overstuffed chair, opened up a newspaper and sat quietly reading. We have all seen him in here of course, what with him being the owner of this fine establishment and all. Pete and I have shushed Chloe as she rambles on about the possible effects the meteor had on his brains, after frying an entire head full of hair. We have been silently envious on how having no hair makes Lex looks rather distinguish and sleek while we would have looked like billiard balls, black and white ones, respectively…and Chloe would affirm on behalf of her species.
That was four days ago. Before his blue Porsche hit me at 60 miles an hour, and we all flew into the Smallville River. Before I realized just how inhumanely strong I was, ripping off the car's hood to save Lex from being just another statistic of fast Porsche driving (like there was any other kind). Before I found out I was not from this earth and that failing history was the least of my problems.
That was only four days ago.
Last night Lex offered Chloe, Pete and I the use of his limousine for the Homecoming Dance. Lex the bald and distant Lord of the Manor suddenly becoming Lex, the bald and amiable (okay slightly, but the signs are good) Lord of the Manor and I think we could even be friends.
Today Lex Luthor walks in and automatically looks around for familiar faces. He spots Pete and I at our booth, walks over and says,
"Where's the indomitable Chloe Sullivan, your better one/third?"
**********
IN A HAIR SALON NOT SO FAR AWAY….
CHLOE
Omigod Omigod Omigod!!! Is it 4.30 already???
I am starting to feel anxiety. Not that anxiety is a feeling unfamiliar to me for I know too well the anxiety of meeting a deadline but this kind of anxiety is freaking me out. It's the female kind, the oh-my-god-will-my-nails-dry-in-time kind.
I am NEVER like this. Gaaaaaah! But it's too late, too late to back out now!!!
I fidget as Shirley, the manicurist puts the final coat of gloss (the color is called 'Rosie-Posie' and I swear I'll sic my golliwog on you if you EVER breathe a word to this to anyone!) on my left pinky finger. Shirley the manicurist is also my aunt, the same one who buys me great books for my birthdays, and the same one who coerced me into this shameful act of vanity!!
I look at my flush (read, excited) face in the mirror and remember that I have to meet my boys at The Beanery half an hour ago. I am thankful that my good senses have not completely vacated my usual sensible self, thus banning my beloved aunt from coming near my hair with curlers she profess would make my hair curl like Scarlet O' Hara. The boys would never let me live it down if I walked into the café with a head full of blond curls. They would scream "Shirley Temple!" and cups would be bazooka-ed at their temples. It would not have been a pretty scene. Thank God.
I mentally curse the powers that be that allow women to be subjected to such societal pressures of making themselves beautiful. I never thought I would succumb to such pressures but I did. Me. Chloe Sullivan. With opinions up the kazoo and better things to do with her time than fret over the color of her nails and hair, like making sure my digital camera was charged, or what the next editorial for The Torch would be…
What in the world happened?
A few hours ago I was laughing at the mini hair salon set up in the girls' toilet. The next thing I knew I was watching Lana's beautifully manicured nails as she passed out flyers on the dangers of drinking and driving, and hearing Clark mumbling on how Lana had such pretty fingernails. Lana didn't even hear him. The wuss. Where is Bernie when I need him??
Don't you kid yourself Chloe! You know exactly what hit the nail right on its head!
No pun intended. I swear.
I look down at my Rosie-Posie'd nails and before I could stop myself…
Oh how very pretty!
Damn it.
**********
STILL IN THE BEANERY…
LEX
"Ahh, here she comes." I remark to Pete Ross and Clark Kent, as I notice Chloe Sullivan, undoubtedly their better one/third, come flying in through the doors like a bat out of hell.
"Sorry I'm late, boys…Mr. Luthor…The Torch needed me as usual", Chloe says, ruffling Clark and Pete's hair and pausing a millisecond before deciding against rubbing my bald head.
Okay, make that a cute blond INFURIATING bat.
Pete and Clark start chiding Chloe on her tardiness and how she should have more of a life than the Torch as I sit quietly in my seat and watch this banter between friends. Their excitement for tonight is apparent as they tease each other about tuxedos and ball gowns and tiaras. I find myself suddenly wishing I am not on the outside and simply looking in. It is disconcerting to have these feelings because I am used to wishing for a faster Porsche or the latest PDA and with a phone call, both would be on its way to the Luthor ancestral home where I await.
How does one find/buy/acquire this familiarity in repartee and laughter with other human beings?
I have no idea. And so I sit quietly, letting their life and color invade my gray world; Pete's jokes on wearing a sombrero for the dance, Chloe's laughter and pink glittery nails and Clark's dreamy hopeful gaze where I bet my birthright would be one, just one, dance with Lana Lang.
"Will Mr. Luthor deign himself to be our designated driver for the night?" Chloe shakes me out of my reverie with her sassiness.
"Your wish shall be my command my dear Ms. Sullivan. Your chariot shall await at your door, 7.30 sharp", I reply, hardly realizing the words that came out of my mouth.
Great. From Lord of the Manor to designated driver.
I am thinking it's about the right time to reclaim back my position as Lord of the Manor but before I go I find myself leaning over to Chloe's ear and telling her how pretty her fingernails look.
Time to go Lex, before you've completely lost your head.
No pun intended there. I swear.
**********
Ps/ Thank you very much for all the reviews. There has never been a better cheaper thrill than this :-)
Disclaimer: Usual disclaimer stuffs…and it wasn't me.
CHAPTER 4 – Pre-Homecoming Banters, Glitters & Jitters
THE BEANERY…pre-Homecoming
PETE
"So you think Lex Luthor will hold true to his word tonight?" I ask Clark as we sit in a booth at The Beanery, waiting for our better one/third, Chloe, who has gone off and about on Torch duties, as usual. "Lex is a man of his words Pete, we'll be riding to the Homecoming Dance in style tonight", Clark says in a voice meant to reassure me that the Luthors were not scheming, callous human beings that history forewarned them to be.
"So do you think Lana will be crowned Homecoming Queen this year?"
I follow Clark's gaze to beautiful Lana Lang, and flip him a birdie for an answer.
Although Clark has been my best friend since the first grade, sometimes I feel like double-whamming the guy when it comes to all things Lana. Clark's no troll, I can tell you that. If he were black, he'd be Denzel for sure. But ever since I've met him, he has been handicapped with his crush on the perfect Ms. Lang. Many-a-hearts have been trampled in Clark's oblivion to the member of the opposite sex, unless your initials were L.L, which stood for LANA LANG…not Lily Lambruster, not Lucy Liu and certainly not Lois Lane. I always felt that Clark was destined for greater things. If not for his face on a billboard advertising for Calvin Klein, then for some sporting glory because People! The dude has a bod of steel! And I'm not one who plays for the same team, if you catch my drift.
I am unable to understand why Clark never excels in any sports despite the obvious physique. Hey, I'm a runt and I play for the football team! For years I (and I'm sure Chloe feels the same way) had this irrational fear that one day Lana Lang would give him the time of the day and Clark Kent would get all the confidence he needs to become a legendary jock true and true.
And Chloe and I would be left in the dust, happy to have been in the presence of such a legend.
Those irrational fears have been laid to rest over the years of course, when our friendship have been grown in strength over cans of cola and cups of latte, coloring books and math quizzes, school yard bullies and subtle bigotry; all the instances where you can draw the line between friendly acquaintance and true friendship. Enmeshed with the spirit of boyhood, the presence of one Chloe Sullivan is always there; as the extra can of cola and cup of latte, the loaner of missing crayons and an extra brain for study group, the little girl kick-in-the-shins in schoolyard fights and the scathing write-ups in articles on prejudices. In our world, three is never a crowd…
Now, where the hell is Chloe??
**********
CLARK
"What's keeping Chloe?" I say to Pete as I watch Lana leave The Beanery with her cheerleading friends. No doubt to out-primp themselves for the dance tonight. Not that Lana needs it of course; she could come to the dance dressed in a gunnysack and still win the crown hands down. No contest whatsoever.
Pete seems engrossed in a conversation with his cup of latte as I look out of the window for signs of Chloe. A familiar figure passes by and enters The Beanery, walking through the doors with an aura befitting the rich and powerful. Four days ago, Lex Luthor would have walked in, ordered an espresso, sat in his usual overstuffed chair, opened up a newspaper and sat quietly reading. We have all seen him in here of course, what with him being the owner of this fine establishment and all. Pete and I have shushed Chloe as she rambles on about the possible effects the meteor had on his brains, after frying an entire head full of hair. We have been silently envious on how having no hair makes Lex looks rather distinguish and sleek while we would have looked like billiard balls, black and white ones, respectively…and Chloe would affirm on behalf of her species.
That was four days ago. Before his blue Porsche hit me at 60 miles an hour, and we all flew into the Smallville River. Before I realized just how inhumanely strong I was, ripping off the car's hood to save Lex from being just another statistic of fast Porsche driving (like there was any other kind). Before I found out I was not from this earth and that failing history was the least of my problems.
That was only four days ago.
Last night Lex offered Chloe, Pete and I the use of his limousine for the Homecoming Dance. Lex the bald and distant Lord of the Manor suddenly becoming Lex, the bald and amiable (okay slightly, but the signs are good) Lord of the Manor and I think we could even be friends.
Today Lex Luthor walks in and automatically looks around for familiar faces. He spots Pete and I at our booth, walks over and says,
"Where's the indomitable Chloe Sullivan, your better one/third?"
**********
IN A HAIR SALON NOT SO FAR AWAY….
CHLOE
Omigod Omigod Omigod!!! Is it 4.30 already???
I am starting to feel anxiety. Not that anxiety is a feeling unfamiliar to me for I know too well the anxiety of meeting a deadline but this kind of anxiety is freaking me out. It's the female kind, the oh-my-god-will-my-nails-dry-in-time kind.
I am NEVER like this. Gaaaaaah! But it's too late, too late to back out now!!!
I fidget as Shirley, the manicurist puts the final coat of gloss (the color is called 'Rosie-Posie' and I swear I'll sic my golliwog on you if you EVER breathe a word to this to anyone!) on my left pinky finger. Shirley the manicurist is also my aunt, the same one who buys me great books for my birthdays, and the same one who coerced me into this shameful act of vanity!!
I look at my flush (read, excited) face in the mirror and remember that I have to meet my boys at The Beanery half an hour ago. I am thankful that my good senses have not completely vacated my usual sensible self, thus banning my beloved aunt from coming near my hair with curlers she profess would make my hair curl like Scarlet O' Hara. The boys would never let me live it down if I walked into the café with a head full of blond curls. They would scream "Shirley Temple!" and cups would be bazooka-ed at their temples. It would not have been a pretty scene. Thank God.
I mentally curse the powers that be that allow women to be subjected to such societal pressures of making themselves beautiful. I never thought I would succumb to such pressures but I did. Me. Chloe Sullivan. With opinions up the kazoo and better things to do with her time than fret over the color of her nails and hair, like making sure my digital camera was charged, or what the next editorial for The Torch would be…
What in the world happened?
A few hours ago I was laughing at the mini hair salon set up in the girls' toilet. The next thing I knew I was watching Lana's beautifully manicured nails as she passed out flyers on the dangers of drinking and driving, and hearing Clark mumbling on how Lana had such pretty fingernails. Lana didn't even hear him. The wuss. Where is Bernie when I need him??
Don't you kid yourself Chloe! You know exactly what hit the nail right on its head!
No pun intended. I swear.
I look down at my Rosie-Posie'd nails and before I could stop myself…
Oh how very pretty!
Damn it.
**********
STILL IN THE BEANERY…
LEX
"Ahh, here she comes." I remark to Pete Ross and Clark Kent, as I notice Chloe Sullivan, undoubtedly their better one/third, come flying in through the doors like a bat out of hell.
"Sorry I'm late, boys…Mr. Luthor…The Torch needed me as usual", Chloe says, ruffling Clark and Pete's hair and pausing a millisecond before deciding against rubbing my bald head.
Okay, make that a cute blond INFURIATING bat.
Pete and Clark start chiding Chloe on her tardiness and how she should have more of a life than the Torch as I sit quietly in my seat and watch this banter between friends. Their excitement for tonight is apparent as they tease each other about tuxedos and ball gowns and tiaras. I find myself suddenly wishing I am not on the outside and simply looking in. It is disconcerting to have these feelings because I am used to wishing for a faster Porsche or the latest PDA and with a phone call, both would be on its way to the Luthor ancestral home where I await.
How does one find/buy/acquire this familiarity in repartee and laughter with other human beings?
I have no idea. And so I sit quietly, letting their life and color invade my gray world; Pete's jokes on wearing a sombrero for the dance, Chloe's laughter and pink glittery nails and Clark's dreamy hopeful gaze where I bet my birthright would be one, just one, dance with Lana Lang.
"Will Mr. Luthor deign himself to be our designated driver for the night?" Chloe shakes me out of my reverie with her sassiness.
"Your wish shall be my command my dear Ms. Sullivan. Your chariot shall await at your door, 7.30 sharp", I reply, hardly realizing the words that came out of my mouth.
Great. From Lord of the Manor to designated driver.
I am thinking it's about the right time to reclaim back my position as Lord of the Manor but before I go I find myself leaning over to Chloe's ear and telling her how pretty her fingernails look.
Time to go Lex, before you've completely lost your head.
No pun intended there. I swear.
**********