PART SEVEN!
"Oh no!" Lana cried to herself, silently, for as a backpack, she had no mouth with which to speak. "Clark," she called to him in her mind. She really wished she was running in the Talon right now, with a cell phone, speaking inexplicably with a teen crisis hotline. "It's happening!" Her eyes drifted vaguely to an NRA membership card Adam had left, discarded, on the floor of his low-flying blimp. "He's got a gun!"
Adam lifted the light saber above his head. "Goodbye, pink backpack. I'll see you in hell!" The air whooshed angrily, snarling and giggling at Lana as it snorted towards her, the light saber screaming in its wake to cut poor Lana into tiny strips of cloth for sewing purposes.
But suddenly, Lana heard a loud pop. And the low-flying blimp imploded all around her!
"NOOOOO!" Adam cried despairingly. "My low-flying blimp!" He was so distraught that the blood streaming from his eyes was embarrassed to be associated with him and jumped out the window.
The low-flying blimp plummeted three feet to the cruel and terrible Earth and shattered into 2,300,004 pieces upon impact. It so happens that an autistic-savant guy was standing nearby, and he counted.
When the smoke cleared, Lana saw Jonathan Kent standing there, looking somewhat abashed. "My bad," he said, looking guiltily at his pitchfork, firmly embedded in the now-destroyed low-flying blimp.
"YOU!" Adam screamed, rising like a dark phoenix from the remains of his low-flying blimp. "You've destroyed my life! DARN YOU!"
Jonathan didn't like his language, and frowned a terrible frown of remorse and unspeakable rage, like that time he'd killed twelve guys who turned out to be twelve innocent, starving children whose twelve machine guns were actually twelve gift-baskets for their mothers.
"Adam, you get out of here!" Jonathan waved his pitchfork threateningly. "This is my bank!"
And indeed, the low-flying blimp had run into Jonathan's pitchfork of its own volition right outside of the Smallville International Bank. Tellers stood there, looking out the window at the wreckage of the low- flying blimp, and the pitchfork wielding madman.
"Stay away from my bank," Jonathan snarled. "Let the fate of your low-flying blimp serve as a warning for you to avoid us stalwart, salt-of- the-Earth Kents and our stalwart, salt-of-the-earth checking accounts!"
Then he raised the pitchfork into the air menacingly, and ran towards Adam. Screaming and crying, Adam ran away, Jonathan chasing swiftly behind him with his pitchfork. Even after Adam chartered a private cargo plane and leaped aboard, Jonathan loomed on the edge of the bank's parking lot, waving his pitchfork in fury.
Lana lay forlorn in the remains of the low-flying blimp. "They abandoned me," she said sadly.
A dark shadow fell across Lana.
There was nothing she could do, for as backpack, she could not flee. And though the other backpacks had managed to scurry away, they were in the process of abandoning Lana, and everyone was good at that. Like her parents, letting themselves be smashed. And Whitney, letting himself be blown into bits.
"Miss Lana Lang," cooed Lionel, his voice like a lover's caress as he gently leaned over to pick up Lana's pink, backpacky body. "I've been expecting you to show up at this bank. It was all a part of my grand scheme, contriving to get you here. I assumed that Adam would betray me, so I got a job as an accountant to pass the eighteen minutes since our last encounter. I shall quit now, without leaving a two weeks' notice!"
"You monstrous fiend!" Charlene, the manager, cried in the background. "Don't you realize the two weeks' notice is vital to our country's economic sys
"Yes, I will quit now, without that two week notice, because I am an evil bastard." Lionel reiterated, taking Lana into the shelter of the bank, adding, "Heh, heh."
"Lionel," an enraged voice came from the doorway.
Silhouetted by the 2pm moonlight, Jonathan loomed like a merchant of Venice, only without a boat; his pitchfork more than sufficed for a vehicle of transportation. It leered at Lana as it rested in Jonathan's hand. Lana could tell it meant to ravage her, and worse, cruelly abandon her.
"You unhand that backpack," Jonathan commanded.
"Or what?" Lionel challenged. "You know I don't respond to threats. When Chloe tried to blackmail me by recording me when I admitted murdering my parents to collect the insurance, I triumphed. When Lex tried to gain my approval, I also triumphed. When you tried to forcibly make love to me on that couch over there, I triumphed and then triumphed a second time."
"I remember that," Jonathan murmured with a coy smile. Then he reached out, and grabbed Lana. "But I claim this backpack, for I found it first."
Sadly, Lionel walked away.
"I have defeated Lionel Luthor!" Jonathan cried in exultation, turning to leave this bank. "Now, I must make sure he never can claim this as a victory of his own. I must destroy this beautiful, pink backpack, so Lionel can never have it."
"No! Mr. Kent, do not kill me! I am the fair Lana Lang, the nubile young girl you readily adored and to whom you tried to pimp your son! Do not abandon me to death!" Lana screamed, but as a backpack, she had no mouth with which to scream at him.
Jonathan noticed a convenient machine gun, and he reached over and grabbed it. "I will now pump this backpack full of bullets!" He tossed Lana to the pavement in front of the Smallville International Playground, and raised the machine gun. "Goodbye, pink backpack!" And his finger compressed the trigger.
TO BE CONTINUED....
WILL JONATHAN KILL LANA!! WILL HE DESTROY HER BEAUTEOUS RADIANCE FOREVER, AND TURN HIS SON INTO AN EVIL MEGALOMANIAC WHO WANTS REVENGE ON HIS FATHER FOR KILLING LANA WHO IS A BACKPACK! WILL LANA EVER AGAIN REGAIN HER HUMAN FORM? WILL JONATHAN DISCOVER CLARK'S FEELINGS FOR LEX??
"Oh no!" Lana cried to herself, silently, for as a backpack, she had no mouth with which to speak. "Clark," she called to him in her mind. She really wished she was running in the Talon right now, with a cell phone, speaking inexplicably with a teen crisis hotline. "It's happening!" Her eyes drifted vaguely to an NRA membership card Adam had left, discarded, on the floor of his low-flying blimp. "He's got a gun!"
Adam lifted the light saber above his head. "Goodbye, pink backpack. I'll see you in hell!" The air whooshed angrily, snarling and giggling at Lana as it snorted towards her, the light saber screaming in its wake to cut poor Lana into tiny strips of cloth for sewing purposes.
But suddenly, Lana heard a loud pop. And the low-flying blimp imploded all around her!
"NOOOOO!" Adam cried despairingly. "My low-flying blimp!" He was so distraught that the blood streaming from his eyes was embarrassed to be associated with him and jumped out the window.
The low-flying blimp plummeted three feet to the cruel and terrible Earth and shattered into 2,300,004 pieces upon impact. It so happens that an autistic-savant guy was standing nearby, and he counted.
When the smoke cleared, Lana saw Jonathan Kent standing there, looking somewhat abashed. "My bad," he said, looking guiltily at his pitchfork, firmly embedded in the now-destroyed low-flying blimp.
"YOU!" Adam screamed, rising like a dark phoenix from the remains of his low-flying blimp. "You've destroyed my life! DARN YOU!"
Jonathan didn't like his language, and frowned a terrible frown of remorse and unspeakable rage, like that time he'd killed twelve guys who turned out to be twelve innocent, starving children whose twelve machine guns were actually twelve gift-baskets for their mothers.
"Adam, you get out of here!" Jonathan waved his pitchfork threateningly. "This is my bank!"
And indeed, the low-flying blimp had run into Jonathan's pitchfork of its own volition right outside of the Smallville International Bank. Tellers stood there, looking out the window at the wreckage of the low- flying blimp, and the pitchfork wielding madman.
"Stay away from my bank," Jonathan snarled. "Let the fate of your low-flying blimp serve as a warning for you to avoid us stalwart, salt-of- the-Earth Kents and our stalwart, salt-of-the-earth checking accounts!"
Then he raised the pitchfork into the air menacingly, and ran towards Adam. Screaming and crying, Adam ran away, Jonathan chasing swiftly behind him with his pitchfork. Even after Adam chartered a private cargo plane and leaped aboard, Jonathan loomed on the edge of the bank's parking lot, waving his pitchfork in fury.
Lana lay forlorn in the remains of the low-flying blimp. "They abandoned me," she said sadly.
A dark shadow fell across Lana.
There was nothing she could do, for as backpack, she could not flee. And though the other backpacks had managed to scurry away, they were in the process of abandoning Lana, and everyone was good at that. Like her parents, letting themselves be smashed. And Whitney, letting himself be blown into bits.
"Miss Lana Lang," cooed Lionel, his voice like a lover's caress as he gently leaned over to pick up Lana's pink, backpacky body. "I've been expecting you to show up at this bank. It was all a part of my grand scheme, contriving to get you here. I assumed that Adam would betray me, so I got a job as an accountant to pass the eighteen minutes since our last encounter. I shall quit now, without leaving a two weeks' notice!"
"You monstrous fiend!" Charlene, the manager, cried in the background. "Don't you realize the two weeks' notice is vital to our country's economic sys
"Yes, I will quit now, without that two week notice, because I am an evil bastard." Lionel reiterated, taking Lana into the shelter of the bank, adding, "Heh, heh."
"Lionel," an enraged voice came from the doorway.
Silhouetted by the 2pm moonlight, Jonathan loomed like a merchant of Venice, only without a boat; his pitchfork more than sufficed for a vehicle of transportation. It leered at Lana as it rested in Jonathan's hand. Lana could tell it meant to ravage her, and worse, cruelly abandon her.
"You unhand that backpack," Jonathan commanded.
"Or what?" Lionel challenged. "You know I don't respond to threats. When Chloe tried to blackmail me by recording me when I admitted murdering my parents to collect the insurance, I triumphed. When Lex tried to gain my approval, I also triumphed. When you tried to forcibly make love to me on that couch over there, I triumphed and then triumphed a second time."
"I remember that," Jonathan murmured with a coy smile. Then he reached out, and grabbed Lana. "But I claim this backpack, for I found it first."
Sadly, Lionel walked away.
"I have defeated Lionel Luthor!" Jonathan cried in exultation, turning to leave this bank. "Now, I must make sure he never can claim this as a victory of his own. I must destroy this beautiful, pink backpack, so Lionel can never have it."
"No! Mr. Kent, do not kill me! I am the fair Lana Lang, the nubile young girl you readily adored and to whom you tried to pimp your son! Do not abandon me to death!" Lana screamed, but as a backpack, she had no mouth with which to scream at him.
Jonathan noticed a convenient machine gun, and he reached over and grabbed it. "I will now pump this backpack full of bullets!" He tossed Lana to the pavement in front of the Smallville International Playground, and raised the machine gun. "Goodbye, pink backpack!" And his finger compressed the trigger.
TO BE CONTINUED....
WILL JONATHAN KILL LANA!! WILL HE DESTROY HER BEAUTEOUS RADIANCE FOREVER, AND TURN HIS SON INTO AN EVIL MEGALOMANIAC WHO WANTS REVENGE ON HIS FATHER FOR KILLING LANA WHO IS A BACKPACK! WILL LANA EVER AGAIN REGAIN HER HUMAN FORM? WILL JONATHAN DISCOVER CLARK'S FEELINGS FOR LEX??