From: "L-Soft list server at Indiana University (1.8d)" To: "ARTF@MemoryAlpha.nil" File: "LOISCLA-GENERAL-L LOG9905E" ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 29 May 1999 09:57:02 +0100 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: LabRat Subject: Re: L&C Fanfic Writing Session Saturday, May 29, 1999 MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Eileen wrote: >Or better still, just bring your ideas with you when you join us this >Saturday or for our weekly "story bouncing" sessions on Wednesdays >on#L&CFicOrg, starting around 9:00 PM EDT. > >We generally meet Saturdays starting at 3:30 PM EDT and try to start writing >fairly soon thereafter. You can come and join the fun at any time, however. >We are usually there for several hours since writing a story takes time. Anyone know what this is UK time? > LabRat :) Doc. Klein's LabRat labrat@ukf.net "What if everything is an illusion and nothing exists? In that case, I definitely overpaid for my carpet." -- Woody Allen, Without Feathers, 1976. "I won't eat anything that has intelligent life but I would gladly eat a network executive or politician." - Marty Feldman. ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 29 May 1999 08:46:03 EDT Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: PJ Piasecki Subject: Re: OT: I could not resist MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit In a message dated 5/28/99 3:41:06 PM CST, James.Tull@EMRSN.COM writes: << Only one more year? where did you read that? Did you read that they want Mulder and Scully to get married the last year? I think they should! It would be really great! >> I'm not sure who this 'they' you're talking about it. It certainly isn't Chris Carter, or anyone connected with the show! Piper ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 29 May 1999 09:36:20 -0400 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Pam Jernigan Organization: http://www.geocities.com/~chiefpam/ Subject: Re: L&C Fanfic Writing Session Saturday, May 29, 1999 MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit > >We generally meet Saturdays starting at 3:30 PM EDT > > > Anyone know what this is UK time? > > The UK is five hours ahead of the US East Coast, so take EST/EDT and add 5. (This gets tricky when our respective countries don't go on & off daylight time the same day, but that's only a few weeks a year) So show up Saturday around 8:30/9pm your time (we tend to start late ) -- ------------------------------------------------------- Pam Jernigan | jernigan@bellsouth.net ChiefPam on IRC | ------------------------------------------------------- "I heard about Superman at the UN. I don't mind him wanting to take over the world, really, but he sounded a little ... well ... nuts." --Dr. Klein, "Blast from the Past", IRC Round Robin ------------------------------------------------------- The FoLC Obsession Page has moved to: http://www.geocities.com/~chiefpam ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 29 May 1999 15:09:59 +0100 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: LabRat Subject: Re: L&C Fanfic Writing Session Saturday, May 29, 1999 MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit >The UK is five hours ahead of the US East Coast, so take EST/EDT and add >5. (This gets tricky when our respective countries don't go on & off >daylight time the same day, but that's only a few weeks a year) > >So show up Saturday around 8:30/9pm your time (we tend to start late >) Ah. This is kind of roughly what I figured, Pam. Thanks! LabRat :) Doc. Klein's LabRat labrat@ukf.net "What if everything is an illusion and nothing exists? In that case, I definitely overpaid for my carpet." -- Woody Allen, Without Feathers, 1976. "I won't eat anything that has intelligent life but I would gladly eat a network executive or politician." - Marty Feldman. ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 29 May 1999 13:11:43 PDT Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Sue Modolo Subject: Where was everybody? Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-type: text/plain; format=flowed; I downloaded Mirc so I could join the bi-weekly rr sessions. i got on line at 2:30 est and started a special room. But no one showed up. Well, if anyone gets this message before 6 pm, I can be reached at 7683628 - Sue M Ont. Maybe because of the US Memorial Day holiday weekend no one was around. Well LOL ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 29 May 1999 18:23:39 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: "Raymond, Melody" Subject: OT: Sponsoring Dean MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Hi Everyone, I just read my post from Friday about Sponsoring Dean. I noticed a very serious typo error on my part. I really DID GET PERMISSION from Zoom to post that announcement about contributing to sponsor Dean in St. Louis. Unfortunately, in my post I typed the word 'not' instead of 'get'. Sorry about that. I hope I didn't confuse anyone. Here is the announcement again. Attention all Dean Cain Lovers and Fellow FoLC You have probably heard by now that Dean will be playing in a basketball game in St. Louis on July 10 sponsored by The Joe Torry Giving Back the Love Foundation. If you would like more information on the foundation or the game, check out the web site at www.joetorryfoundation.com. If you would like more information on how to join the FoLC who are already attending the event, contact MelRaymond@aol.com. If you are unable to make the trek to St. Louis, here is your chance to be a part of the event and let Dean you care - all while helping out a good cause. The JTF is soliciting companies and organization to "sponsor" one particular guest. What that really means is that they are soliciting $1,000 donations and giving credit to that organization by recognizing them as a particular celebrity sponsor. We can't have anyone sponsor Dean except the FoLC and online Dean Cain admirers. What we need from you... If we raise $1,000, we can get recognition in the program that the FoLC sponsored Dean for the event. We will also make sure that Dean receives a detailed listing of the names of the FoLC who sponsored him. If we don't raise $1,000, all money will be donated to the JTF and we will be listed as a sponsor - something like "Dean Cain's online supporters" AND we will still give Dean a listing of the names of those who contributed. If you would like to participate, send a $5 or $10 check (or more if you want) made payable to JOE TORRY GIVING BACK THE LOVE FOUNDATION (or JOE TORRY FOUNDATION if you write big) and mail it to P.O. Box 10966, St. Louis, MO 63135. Be sure to include your real name (if you want) and your screen name. I will use both (or just one if you wish) on the personal listing that we will present to Dean. I'm the only one who has access to this post office box, so nobody else will get the checks. They will all be turned into the JTF on June 10. Time is limited... Your money MUST be received by June 10. The book goes to print on June 13, so we must raise the $1,000 before then. We know that you are all out there and that you want to Dean to know it, too. Send your donation today. Sue LoisLnKent@aol.com Melody melraymond@aol.com ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 29 May 1999 21:31:46 PDT Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Caroline Amberson Subject: remove Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-type: text/plain; format=flowed; _______________________________________________________________ Get Free Email and Do More On The Web. Visit http://www.msn.com ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 13:19:56 -0400 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Peace Subject: Re: a new list (time being) for the other LOISCLA MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit >You can subscribe to the new list by hitting >the link at this URL: > >http://www.actwd.com/zoomway/lnc_elist.htm Well, it's *easy* to tell who set up this page! Great shot of Bernie, Zoom :) Peace ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 16:37:25 -0400 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Peace Subject: Re: Where was everybody? MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Hi Sue, :) Well, since I haven't seen any other replies to this, and since we enjoy having new people show up, let's see if I can help out. >I downloaded Mirc so I could join the bi-weekly rr sessions. i got on line Did you get on an Undernet server? There are a variety of "-nets" out there (DalNet and Braznet are two that come to mind) but if you want to find the group that has been doing L&C round robins, you have to be on an Undernet server. I personally prefer the New York server, which seems to be pretty stable and is new enough that it's not usually crowded (which can make it hard to get on.) If you don't see it in your list of possible servers, you can add it: newyork.ny.us.undernet.org You might want to also check with your ISP to see if they have an Undernet server specifically for that ISP (eg. AOL users can use undernet.irc.aol.com and AT&T users have irc2.worldnet.att.net) >at 2:30 est Oops! Go back and read the invitation again! The round robin group meets at 3:30 EST. But there sometimes will be people who show up early and hang out in #loiscla. >and started a special room. But no one showed up. Did you tell anybody the name of your special room? Since most of us hang out at least some of the time in #loiscla, we don't usually go looking for other L&C rooms people might have set up. The last bit of advice I can offer is patience! If you're in #loiscla in the midafternoon on the weekend, or in the evenings any day, and there's no one else there, hang around -- people pop in and out a good bit. Looking forward to seeing you there! Peace ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 18:20:39 EDT Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: "Eileen F. Ray" Subject: NEW: PHOTOGRAPHS AND MEMORIES (1/4) [PG] MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit TITLE: PHOTOGRAPHS AND MEMORIES PART 1/4 AUTHOR: An IRC Round Robin by: Zoomway (zoomway@aol.com); Melisma (dlgray@usa.net; Mackteach (Mackteach@aol.com); Eraygun (Eraygun@aol.com); chrispat (cp13607@aol.com); ChiefPam (jernigan@bellsouth.net) RATING: PG FEEDBACK: All feedback, public and private is welcome. However, the group would prefer that comments concerning grammatical errors and typos be discussed privately. Why bore the rest of you with that kind of stuff ;)? SUMMARY: Another of the IRC Round Robin group's 'Unintentional' Season stories. (To read the others in order visit either Pam Jernigan's or Anne Ciotola's terrific sites.) Lois and Clark reminisce about the past and speculate about their future as they clean out the spare room that will become the nursery. ________________ PHOTOGRAPHS AND MEMORIES Clark leaned in the doorway of the cluttered room and sighed. "Honey, why don't I just move out all this junk at super speed?" "Nice try, Kent," Lois said as she brushed by him. "But remember what happened when you moved everything out of my apartment at super speed?" Clark winced. "You're not going to bring up the fish thing again, are you?" Lois picked up a football trophy. "Clark, it wouldn't have taken you a minute to fill the fish tank and put the fish in that, but no," she sighed, "you filled the sink and put them there instead." "True," Clark acknowledged. "But *you're* the one who threw the burnt casserole dish in the sink without looking." Lois tried not to smile. "That dish was filled with soap." "Honey," he soothed. "The fish were fine, and cleaner than fish have a right to be." Lois finally laughed. "The point is, we're doing this the old-fashioned way." Clark sighed again. "Is this another 'bonding' thing?" Lois shrugged and examined the trophy more closely. "I don't mind bonding over sports awards. It's kind of cute." Clark took the trophy. "Can't we call it 'sexy' instead of 'cute'?" Lois tugged at one of his belt loops. "You're sexy, the trophy is..." Lois cut herself off and read the inscription, " 'Awarded for Exceptional Performance'...that's you,all right." Clark leaned forward and gave Lois a small kiss. "Thank you, though I have to admit I started playing football to help judge how much strength would be seen as 'human.' I chose a sport where everyone was padded." Lois began ripping tape from a cardboard box. "Sounds like my drill team, Everyone was padded there, too." Clark smiled. "Guess I picked the wrong extracurricular activity." Lois opened the box. "There's only one human strength you would have learned >from joining my drill team, Clark," she said, and lifted out a toaster. "The duplicate wedding presents. I knew we'd see them again, just not this soon." Clark reached in and pulled out a blender. "I thought you were giving these to charity." Lois didn't meet his gaze. "Well," she hesitated. "I was hoping that by the time we found these things again, I'd have already destroyed the old ones through various cooking adventures." Clark shook his head. "Lois Lane, she's not just a wife, mother-to-be and a reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper, she's an appliance junkie." Lois turned her head. "Your parents are coming this way." Clark lowered his glasses and looked through the wall. "You're right. Psychic?" he teased. "No, but your dad is wearing those new shoes Martha gave him. I can hear the squeak of new leather from a mile away." "And the groaning." "That too," Lois laughed. *** "Oh come on, Jonathan, they aren't *that* bad!" Martha laughed as they started up the stairs. "Yeah, sure, and you *love* new shoes," he shot back. "Give me my old loafers any day..." "Hi, Mom, hi Dad," Clark called from the top of the stairs. "Come on up. Lois and I are just cleaning out the new nursery." "Clark, what's this?" Lois asked as they both came in. She was holding a pair of black patent leather shoes with metal plates on the soles. "Uh, um..." he stammered, turning slightly red. "Um, remember when I told you I learned ballroom dancing from the Nigerian princess?" "Uh-huh..." "Well, I learned how to tap dance first." "*You*, Clark? You learned to tap dance?" She was looking at him as if he had sprouted another six heads. "Yeah, well, I was... How old was I, Mom? "It was right after we got those Fred Astaire movies, honey. I guess you were about ten..." "Could have been worse, son," Jonathan chimed in. "Could have been *ballet*!" Lois grinned. "He's not too far off, Jonathan." She winked at Martha. "*He* wears the tights in this family." Clark grimaced. "Ha ha. Very funny." He lifted a box effortlessly and set it on the floor. "At least they're not pink," he mumbled. Martha smiled as she caught the last part of Clark's muttering. "What was that, dear?" Clark shok his head. "Oh, nothing, Mom. Nothing at all." He opened the box and frowned at the spiral-bound notebooks and binders. "Lois? What's all this?" "Hmmm?" Lois looked up from the box of stuffed animals she was going through. Hugging one to her she looked at what Clark was pulling out of his box. "Oh!" She dropped the stuffed moose and hurried over to him. "That's okay, Clark. We don't need to look in this one." She closed the box up so quickly, taking the spiral notebook out of his hand, that Clark had to use a little super-speed so his hand wouldn't be caught. But Lois hadn't been quick enough. And she had forgotten that she was married to a man who had x-ray vision when necessary. As Lois finished resecuring the top of the box, Clark "peeked" inside. He saw that on the cover of the spiral notebooks, "Short Stories" was written on them followed by a year. But what really caught his attention was a newer looking notebook, this one a three-ring binder. On the spine, Lois had written "1994" and the words ... "'Unfinished Stories'? Lois?" Clark looked at her, his eyebrow cocked, waiting for an answer. Lois tried to bluff her way out of it. "Oh ... just some things I started and never got around to finishing ... " "Stories? As in articles? Honey, that doesn't sound like you." "Clark, they were several years ago ..." "Even so. I'm sure that my 'hard-bitten reporter' with the tenacity of a bulldog wouldn't let go of a story until it was printed and nominated for a Pulitzer." Lois muttered to herself. "Theyaren'tthosekindsofstories." Clark heard her, his curiosity growing. "Lois ... if they aren't *those* kinds of stories ... then what kind are they?" Lois looked at Martha. Then Jonathan. And finally back to Clark. Three pairs of eyes looked at her with interest. Lois knew the jig was up. She'd either have to come clean with what was in the box or she'd have Clark obsessing about them. "They're *my* stories, Clark. Fictional stories." "Fictional? ... Oh!" Clark looked at her with interest. "Like your Wanda Detroit story?" Lois tamped down the embarrassment that was building within her. "Yes ... and no." She took a deep breath. "Yes, they're like my Wanda Detroit story, only different." "That romance novel you were writing? About the woman never finding true love?" Martha asked. Lois shook her head. "No, Martha." She looked at Clark and smiled. "That one will probably never be finished. I've ... lost ... that character's motivation." Clark returned her smile, encouraging Lois to continue. "When I didn't know you were Superman, there were times that I couldn't sleep, just wondering what you were really feeling and what kind of life you led when you weren't being a superhero." Clark chuckled. "Usually wondering how I could get you to notice me instead of Superman." Martha chided him. "Honey, you're talking about yourself in the third person again." Lois smiled at Martha's mothering and continued with her explanation. "When I found out that you and Superman were one and the same, I still couldn't sleep, wondering how I hadn't recognized it from the first and why the powers that be had decided to smile down on me." Clark looked at her with love in his eyes, the light behind them shining as he listened to her words. "Even now, when you get late night calls for help, sometimes I can't get back to sleep. So ... I write." "About what?" Lois shrugged her shoulders. "Sometimes about Wanda ... sometimes about other characters I make up ... sometimes about ..." She stopped as she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. Martha caught the look in Lois' eyes and guessed that what Lois might say would probably be best heard only by Clark. "Come on, Jonathan. How'd you like to soak your feet in some bath salts?" "I'd like to know what Lois writes abou --" Lois watched as Martha shooed him to the door. "Never mind, Jonathan. I'll explain it to you later." Martha closed the door behind her, winking at Lois. Lois sighed, feeling her embarrassment die down just a bit. "Lois?" She turned back to Clark. "They're just stories, Clark. Graphic stories." "Graphic?" She shook her head. Sometimes the naive Kansas farm boy was very evident in her husband. "Graphic, Clark. Graphic *love* stories." Clark thought for a moment, then his eyes widened. "Oh!" He looked at the box. "Can I read them sometime?" Lois giggled. "Maybe you can help me finish a few of them." Clark grinned. "Sounds like a plan to me." Continued in part 2/4 ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 18:20:48 EDT Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: "Eileen F. Ray" Subject: NEW: PHOTOGRAPHS AND MEMORIES (4/4) [PG] MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit TITLE: PHOTOGRAPHS AND MEMORIES PART: 4/4 AUTHOR: The IRC Round Robin Group RATING: PG FEEDBACK: All feedback, public and private is welcome. SUMMARY: One of the IRC Round Robin group's 'Unintentional' Season stories. Lois and Clark take a trip down memory lane as they clean out the spare room to set up the nursery. ____________________ "Lois, you'll be wonderful-" "Martha, I wish I could be as certain of that as you and Clark are. But raising a baby is hard, and raising a *super* one must be even harder. Sometimes I wonder if I'll be able to do it." Jonathan placed a comforting arm around Lois's shoulder. "Lois, being a parent *is* hard, there's no doubt about it. Babies don't come with instruction manuals. But you and Clark have the most important thing that makes a good parent." "What's that?" "Love." Lois smiled gratefully at Jonathan and Martha. "You think that's enough?" "It was for us," Jonathan replied as he smiled and winked at Martha. Martha nodded and matched his warm smile with one of her own. "That, and a good set of earplugs if the baby takes after Clark," she added. "He could really shout the house down when he was hungry. And speaking of hungry, why don't I fix us lunch? We can come back to this later." *** Clark had had lots of practice landing 747's and was finished in Chicago quickly, but on the way back to Metropolis detoured south to help with tornado cleanup. It was nearly two hours before he returned to the house. He spun into his jeans and t-shirt as he crossed the living room to the kitchen. "Hi, honey, I'm home," he said with a grin, as he came through the swinging doors. "I heard you in here ... where are my folks? Did you finish upstairs already?" Lois pulled her head out of the refrigerator, and smiled at him. "Hi. No, we took a break to eat, and then Martha decided the hinges on the door of the room needed replacing. She dragged your dad off to the hardware store right after lunch. Are you hungry? Your mom made some great stuff." She waved a hand at the breakfast table, where food was still spread out. Clark smiled broadly, and rubbed his hands together. "Great. I love it when she cooks ..." he broke off and gave her an apologetic look, but she just laughed. "I know. You love it when she cooks instead of me. Go on, enjoy." Clark's eyes widened. "Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, sardines, herring, potato salad, angel food cake, raspberry preserves and cookies?" He seemed boggled. "Even my *dad* wouldn't put this stuff together." Lois patted his shoulder. "It's actually my fault. Your mom asked what sounded good, and--" "You were having cravings," Clark finished her sentence. "You're disappointed." Clark made that little boy sulky face. "I am...well..kind of. I was hoping maybe fried chicken, sweet cornbread, or at least a ham and cheese sandwich. *Nothing* besides the cookies look good." "My, my, we are upset," Lois teased. "At least have some potato salad, it's really good," she said. She picked up the spoon and offered some to him. "That's another thing, this is the mayonnaise kind and Mom knows I like the mustard kind." Lois handed him a cookie. "Here, eat this. If you don't want anything, maybe I'll just have a little more." Clark smiled, "Okay. I'll watch you eat whatever you like out of that deli nightmare." He sat down across from her at the table, and rested his chin on one hand. "I remember when we'd have supper at my grandparents' house..well..we had supper at one set of grandparents and 'dinner' with the other set." Lois speared some sardines onto a plate. "You never told me about your grandparents." "Well, when Mom and Dad found me they were a bit older than most parents with babies, and so my grandparents were a lot older than most of my friends' grandparents, too." He sighed. "By the time I was fifteen, they had all passed away." "Oh, Clark, I'm sorry." "No, it's okay, honey. They had lived long, full lives. My dad's parents were country folk, but my mom's family...they were...well, more uptown. Like I said, we had 'supper' with my dad's folks. That meant the adults at a table, and kids given oversized saucers filled with food and banished to eat on the back porch. Lois swirled a sardine in the potato salad. "Sounds barbaric." Clark grimaced at the food choice. "No, it was great. I hated okra ...I thought for a long time they were saying 'oh crud' ... and on the back porch I could feed it to grandpa's dog, Pesty." Lois opened the pickled herring when she ran out of sardines. "And your other grandparents?" Clark felt acid rising to his throat. "Well, we had 'dinner.' That meant dressing up, adults and kids at the same table, full blown manners and having to eat stuff you didn't like. Also ..." Clark said, but paused as he saw Lois spreading raspberry preserves on a piece of angel food cake. "Yes?" Clark shook his head. "My maternal grandmother was German, her maiden name was Mueller. She and Dad didn't get along well. Made dinner entertaining sometimes." Lois laughed. "I can't imagine your sweet father not getting along with anybody." "Trust me on this one, Lois. Dad and Grandmother didn't get along at all. She always accused Dad of trapping Mom into a life of manual labor." "Ouch," Lois said, and tucked some herring into a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "Did they ever patch things up?" Clark smiled and wiped some jelly from her chin. "Yeah. For a long time, my grandmother thought that the reason my parents couldn't have kids was Dad's fault." "But it was your mom?" He nodded. "She finally told her mother even though Dad told her not to." "And a little guilt kicked in?" "Sort of. At least, she made as close to an apology as Grandmother would ever manage. Her last Christmas she sewed a sampler and gave it to my parents. It said, 'zwei Koerper, drei Herzen, eine Seele'." Lois wiped her hands and got up. She came around to Clark's side of the table, and he automatically sat back and pulled her into his lap. "Meaning?" Lois said. "Two bodies, three hearts, one soul." Lois rubbed Clark's chest and dropped her head onto his shoulder. "I'm not sure I understand ... oh! A couple expecting a baby." "Yes," he whispered against her hair. "She put a note in the package saying she had sewn it a long time ago, but never thought she'd be able to use it. But she'd decided that I was a miracle, and so the same sentiment still applied." Lois lifted her head and looked into Clark's eyes. "You are, you know...a miracle, I mean." Clark smiled and kissed her softly. "Takes one to know one," he murmured. Lois laughed and kissed him again. "Clark," she said thoughtfully. "How about grandparents' names for the baby? Family names are always good, and we haven't even considered those. What were their first names?" Clark's face was solemn, but his eyes danced. "That's a very good idea, Lois. Let's see, Grandfather Clark was Augustus, and Grandmother was Edeltraud -- everyone called her Trudy, and Grampa Kent was Ezekiel and Gramma was Mabel." Lois just stared at him and he he couldn't suppress his laughter any longer. "What's wrong, Lois? They're *family* names." He kissed her nose. "I guess Godiva and Hershey don't sound so bad after all." Lois punched him in the chest, but before she could say anything, Martha and Jonathan came in the front door, and they went to meet them. As they joined the two in the living room, Clark once again stopped and listened. Lois sighed. "Plane, bridge, or bank alarm?" "Another tornado. I'd better go and see what I can do to help in the aftermath." Lois smiled and watched her husband whoosh away, then turned to Martha and Jonathan. "Well, back to work for us, too." *** Superman landed softly on the back terrace. Quickly spinning into his t-shirt and jeans, he entered the brownstone through the patio door. "Lois?" He tuned in and caught her heartbeat upstairs. He didn't hear any others and he couldn't help the smile that came over his face. He loved his parents, but between the memories and the teasing and the long looks they had given each other while cleaning out the spare room, Clark was definitely in the mood for some 'alone time' with Lois. He called out once more. "Lois?" "In here, Clark." He went up the stairs and slowly opened the door the door to the back room completely. He saw that it was now empty, the boxes all gone, the hardwood floor swept. Across the way, Lois sat against the wall, her legs partially crossed. She was staring at him and in the fading sunlight, her eyes were shining brightly. "Lois? Honey? Are you all right?" He started across to her. "Stop ... right ... there ..." she whispered. Clark halted in the middle of the room. He saw a single tear fall down her face. "Lois? What is it?" She sniffled, wiping absent-mindedly at the tears softly falling. "Nothing. I'm just ... pregnant, that's all." He smiled softly and began walking toward her once more but stopped again as she continued talking. "It's just that ... I had this picture in my mind of you ... standing in the center of this room ... the fading sunlight coming through the window ..." The look of love in her tear-filled eyes made Clark catch his breath. Lois continued. "You ... standing there ... holding our baby ..." The tears started anew and Clark walked toward her once more. He sat down on the floor, pulling her into his arms, holding and rocking her gently, soothing her with his words, his arms, his love. When her happy tears subsided, he said, "I remember when I saw you in the sunlight for the first time in this house. You took my breath away. The reality of seeing you standing there was so much better than the vision I had in my mind." He felt her snuggle closer and he held her to his heart. Softly, he asked, "What about *your* picture?" Lois looked at him. Smiling, she took his hand and placed it on her stomach. Turning once more to him, she reached out and traced his lips with her fingertips. She kissed him gently, letting him know that the reality was indeed better. "It's not *my* picture, Clark ... it's *ours.*" THE END ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 18:20:45 EDT Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: "Eileen F. Ray" Subject: NEW: PHOTOGRAPHS AND MEMORIES (3/4) [PG] MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit TITLE: PHOTOGRAPHS AND MEMORIES PART: 3/4 AUTHOR: The IRC Round Robin Group RATING: PG FEEDBACK: All feedback, public and private is welcome. SUMMARY: One of the IRC Round Robin group's 'Unintentional' Season stories. Lois and Clark take a trip down memory lane as they clean out the spare room to set up the nursery. ___________ "Looks like you were right," Lois commented, grinning at the sight of Clark's dull flush. Clark shook his head. "I trusted her ... I can't believe she ratted me out." "Now, Clark," Martha intervened, "she's the one who talked us into letting you go with her on that trip, so she felt responsible for you." "Wow, Clark, I'm learning a lot today. So why haven't I heard about Aunt Laura before now?" He lowered his eyes. "Well, she died when I was 17." "That was a rough year already," Martha commented, watching her son. "He was still learning just how different he was, and we had been talking about telling Laura about him. None of the rest of the family knew, but Laura was the closest to us." Clark looked up. "I think she guessed, Mom." Martha sighed. "Well, it would have been nice to have it out in the open, to have another woman to talk to ..." she brightened, and turned to Lois. "But now I have you, dear. *And* I'm going to have a grandchild, which is the reason we're here today, ostensibly cleaning up this room..." She glared at three non-working parties in the room, clearly intent on changing to topic. Lois was still curious, but this wasn't an interview, so she let it drop. For now. She opened another box at random. "Clark, tell me about this?" "Oh, those're my old high school yearbooks." Lois reached eagerly into the box and snatched one out. "Hmmm. Your senior year..." She turned to the page with Clark's class picture and burst out laughing. "Ohmigod. I'm sure glad you don't look like that now! That hair, those glasses!" She dissolved into a fit of giggles, but retained the presence of mind to keep the offending article out of his clutches. The giggles stopped as her eyes lit on another picture. "So ... this is your Lana. Was she anything like the Lana I met in the other dimension?" Clark rolled his eyes. "Lois, I wasn't there, remember?" "Oh. Yeah. Well, that Lana was an Imperial stormtrooper. What was your Lana like?" Clark turned to his mother in desperation. "Mom! Help!" Martha chuckled. "Lois, don't worry. Our Lana was a very nice girl, but I knew she wasn't the one for Clark." Clark stared at his mother. "You did? Why didn't you tell me that?" "Well, dear, I think that's something a person has to find out for himself." Clark smiled sheepishly. "I guess so. I liked Lana, but I didn't know what love was till I met Lois." Lois' eyes filled as her annoying hormonal reactions kicked into gear, and she burst into tears, startling everyone. Clark wrapped his arms around her (he was getting used to this by now) and rocked her gently. "You know you're the only woman I've ever loved." Lois sniffled against his chest. "I know." "It's just that Lana was a *nice* girl, and she's from Smallville and she-- " "Honey," Clark whispered, "I didn't want a nice girl. I wanted you," he teased, and pulled her into as tight a hug as her new shape would permit. "The day I met you I saw how passionate you were, and I *wanted* that passion." Jonathan grabbed Martha, tugging her to the door. "I need another foot soak." Lois sniffed again. "I remember meeting you, but pretending I didn't." Clark raised an eyebrow. "You pretended pretty good. I was sure you didn't notice me at all." Lois tugged at his shirt. "I wondered who the cute guy was in Perry's office ... so I found an excuse to come in, and oh," she sighed, "you stood up when I walked in. I thought that only happened in movies." Clark laughed softly. "I don't remember standing, I don't remember anything except you. I couldn't speak, I felt like an idiot. I vaguely remember Perry introducing us and then," he shrugged, "I went a little crazy the rest of the day. I blew the interview, but the only part that *really* disappointed me was knowing I wouldn't see you again." Lois sighed contentedly. "But you got the job, and impressed Perry with your ...initiative." "I never did anything like that before," he said as he drew a thumb along her jaw line. "But like I said, you made me a little crazy. I had to get back." He stacked up a couple of substantial boxes and sat down, pulling Lois into his lap. "I thought I had *everything* figured out until I met you. "And I *knew* I had everything figured out," Lois replied, snuggling closer and burying her face in his chest. "I knew they'd nicknamed me Mad Dog Lane, and I didn't care, because I had a one-track mind, totally focused on my career, and *nothing* was going to get in my way. And then you showed up. I still have a one-track mind, but it's jumped tracks," she giggled, kissing him. "Oh, Lois," Clark groaned. "You *know* I love your one-track mind, but that was a *bad* pun..." She grinned and kissed him again. "Yeah, but it's true ... you just totally changed my life, for the better." A little later, Lois looked around the room again. "Clark, what's a box with the Schott Toy Company logo on it doing here?" Clark followed her pointing finger. "Aw, honey, um, well... that's not an important box. See? I never even opened it." That made Lois more curious, and she slipped out of his arms and walked over to the dust-covered box. "Boy, it's heavier than I thought it would be," she remarked, setting it on the table and picking up the box knife. "Lois, you really don't want to open it..." Clark tried again. But she cut open the top, then laughed so loudly that Martha and Jonathan came running. "Clark! I knew you saved the Whisper and the Dirt Digger articles, but this... Oy!" "What is it, Lois? What's all the fuss?" Martha and Jonathan asked simultaneously. Lois was laughing so hard that she couldn't speak, so she just held open the box for them to see. It was stuffed with Superman figures. Clark smiled sheepishly. "Well, during that heat wave fiasco and then the subliminal suggestions from Arianna Carlin, they weren't selling so well ... and the money *is* going to charity ..." He let his voice trail off. Jonathan went over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You don't ever have to explain to us, son. We know where your heart is." Lois reached out and caressed the side of his face. "That's true. We love you for *you,* Clark ... tap shoes, funny costumes, and action figures included." "Which reminds me ..." At Martha's voice, Lois and Clark turned. Clark smiled softly, his eyebrow raised. "What's this, Mom?" He took the wrapped box that she held out to him. Martha walked over to Jonathan, linking her arm through his. "An anniversary present." Lois chuckled. "Anniversary? Martha, today isn't the date we got married." Jonathan smiled, putting his arm around Martha. "True. But it is the anniversary of the day that we found Clark." Lois' smile widened as she looked at her in-laws. "And a day certainly worth celebrating." Clark sat down on the boxes he had stacked and began to unwrap the present. "In all of this hustle and bustle, I completely forgot." The three gathered around as Clark opened the box. He lifted the cover and grinned. Quickly re-covering it he stood up and hugged his parents tightly. "Thanks, Mom ... thanks, Dad," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. Turning, he pulled Lois into the family hug. "Look, honey." Smiling, Lois took the box from him and opened it. She gasped and pulled out a blanket. It felt soft, well-worn, and full of love. She looked at Martha. "Is this ...?" Martha smiled and nodded. "The blanket we found Clark wrapped in that night in Shuster's Field." Jonathan added, "We thought you might want it for the baby." Lois' eyes filled with tears and she hugged them both. "It's perfect. Thank you." Martha patted Lois' back. "It goes great with that little pair of briefs I showed you earlier." Laughing, Lois wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm sure that our child will put both to good use. Won't she, Clark?" Clark nodded and kissed her softly. "Yes, *he* will." Knowing that his feet couldn't handle another soak, Jonathan cleared his throat. "Well, shall we finish clearing this room?" Lois and Clark looked at each other a moment longer before joining Martha and Jonathan at another box. Suddenly Clark turned towards the window and got a faraway look in his eyes. "Uh-oh," he said with concern. "What's the matter?" Lois asked. "The radio is on next door, and there's apparently a 747 in trouble over Chicago. I'd better--" "Go!" Lois finished. "Just be careful." Clark quickly kissed her, spun into his costume and rocketed out the window. Lois sighed and turned back to Jonathan and Martha. "I guess we'd better finish up here. He may be gone awhile." Martha noticed the pensive look on Lois' face as she picked up a box of clothes and headed towards the door. "Is there something wrong, sweetie?" "No ... er, well, yes... I mean, maybe." "What is it Lois?" Jonathan asked. "It's just ... I'm a little nervous, that's all--" "About something happening to Clark? Honey, he handles this kind of thing all the time. You know that." "No, that's not it," Lois said sheepishly. "I guess I'm still a little nervous at the idea of being a mother." Continued in 4/4 ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 18:20:42 EDT Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: "Eileen F. Ray" Subject: NEW: PHOTOGRAPHS AND MEMORIES (2/4) [PG] MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit TITLE: PHOTOGRAPHS AND MEMORIES PART: 2/4 AUTHOR: The IRC Round Robin Group RATING: PG FEEDBACK: All feedback, public and private is welcome. SUMMARY: One of the IRC Round Robin group's 'Unintentional' Season stories. Lois and Clark take a trip down memory lane as they clean out the spare room to set up the nursery. _______________ Lois giggled and picked up another box, this one containing some dusty photo albums. "Clark what are these?" Clark shrugged and pulled one of the albums out of the box. "Just scrapbooks Mom made from my pictures and souvenirs while I was traveling." Lois leaned closer to Clark as he opened the album and her face lit up with a warm smile. "Clark, did you take these photos?" He nodded. "They're beautiful. I never knew you could do this. I really do learn something new about you every day." Clark blushed a little. "It's no big deal, honey. I just pointed the camera. Some of these places are so beautiful it would have been impossible not to take a great shot." He flipped through the album until he stopped at a photo of a pristine pink beach fronting a beautiful blue lagoon. "This place, for example." "Oh, Clark, it's wonderful, where is it?" Clark grinned. "That's for me to know and you to find out...How about on our next day off?" Lois flung her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a toe-curling kiss. Clark was a little breathless when she drew back. "Wow! Maybe we should look through these albums more often!" Lois sighed and nestled her head against his shoulder. "You know, sometimes when I'm working on those 'stories' in the middle of the night, I kind of resent the fact that you have to be gone so much. But then you casually suggest something like flying off to some deserted island in the middle of nowhere, and I realize I'm the luckiest woman on Earth." She started to kiss him again, but was distracted by the sound of throat clearing behind her. Martha bustled back into the room. "Come on, you two, we'll never get this finished at the rate you're going." Clark exchanged glances with his father, who had followed Martha, and sighed. He reluctantly released Lois and turned to another box. "Lois, honey, what's in this box? I don't remember seeing it before." Lois peered at the box. "I don't recognize that one, either." Martha adjusted her glasses. "Oh! That one. I brought that. It's Clark's baby things. I thought you could use them." She pushed aside some shirts lying on top, as though looking for something. "Oh, here it is," Martha cooed, her voice going up two octaves on the 'it's so cute' scale. She held up something that looked like tiny red and yellow briefs. Lois leaned forward. "What is that?" "Please, Mom, I'm begging here." Martha handed them to Lois. "It's the cute little diaper thing Clark was wearing when we found him." "So much for begging," Clark muttered. Lois smiled. "I can see where you got your idea for part of the Superman costume." Jonathan laughed and patted Clark on the back. "Don't worry, son. No one will ever know the truth." Clark, thoroughly embarrassed, just nodded. "After years of wearing my underwear on the outside, the truth finally comes out." "Oh, honey, you've always been so handsome," Martha said, trying to placate her suddenly fragile son. "I knew you'd look good in *anything*." Clark sighed. "Even that leopard skin thing you made?" Lois raised her eyebrows. "Leopard skin? I kind of wish I could see that one." "Well keep wishing," Clark smiled, "because you'll only see it if we happen to find a magic lamp in this junk." Martha smiled and started handing Lois booties, blankets, little shoes, pajamas, and all manner of other baby clothing, each time givng the item a hug and a sigh. However, Clark noticed she was distributing items rather quickly, and it turned out she had a good reason. From the bottom of the box she retrieved a red baseball cap with fiber-fill wings stitched to the side. She handed it to Lois along with a red sash style mask. "Early Superman," she said and smiled up at Clark as she reached back into the box and brought out assorted tights, masks, belts ... and leopard skin. Martha leaned towards Lois conspiratorially. "He was very picky," she whispered. Lois placed the baseball cap on Clark's head. "I like that," she said with true admiration. "It looks like you could deliver flowers at the speed of light." Reaching into another box Lois drew out yet another scrapbook. "What's this, Clark?" she asked. "Oh, Clark, isn't that your poetry book?" Jonathan said, not letting Clark answer. Clark groaned as Lois began to leaf through it. "Oh, Lois, they're awful. Those go back to when I was eight or nine, I guess." "Wow, who would have guessed? My Clark, a budding writer at eight or nine," Lois grinned. "Lets see what you found worthy of sonnetizing back then... Oooh, this sounds good...'I'm up the tree! I love to be with the bird, his song the sweetest you ever heard.' Hey, not bad - it even rhymes! "Oh, I remember when you wrote that, Clark," his mother smiled. "You and your father had just built a treehouse, and you used to love to spend hours up there." "Yeah," Jonathan reminisced, "and that's when we first started realizing that you had, er... extra-ordinary abilities. Remember, Martha?" Martha laughed, while Clark started to blush again. "You scared half my life away when you fell out of that silly treehouse! I thought for sure you had killed yourself. But no, you *bounced*! Landed on your feet just like a cat." "If it had been seven or eight years later, I would have flown..." "Yeah, you didn't start floating for another two years, and it took you quite a bit longer to learn to control it and eventually to fly," Martha finished for him. "Wow, Clark, the things I learn about you when your parents come to town!" Lois laughed. Clark teasingly glared at Lois. "Maybe we should invite Ellen and Sam over more often." He punctuated his suggestion with a wide grin, earning him a face full of stuffed moose. Martha chuckled. "He's right, Lois. So far we've unboxed Clark's memorabilia. Well, except for that box of notebooks ..." She stopped as she saw the beginnings of a flush on Lois' face. Deftly, she changed the subject. Picking up the box of 'early Superman' costumes, she handed them to Jonathan. "Have you two decided on a name for the baby?" Clark smirked. "Lois wanted to name the baby Godiva if it's a girl ... and Hershey if it's a boy ..." He ducked as another stuffed animal flew through the air at him. "Just because I can't have chocolate while I'm carrying *your* child, Clark Kent, is no reason to torture me!" She grinned and looked at Martha. "Besides, Martha, *he* was thinking of ... mmmph!" Her bright eyes glared at Clark as he clamped his hand over her mouth. "Now, Lo-is ... you *swore* you wouldn't repeat that to *anyone*!" Her look softened as Clark's hand moved slightly, his fingers caressing her cheek. She sighed into his palm and moved her lips against it. She nodded, silently promising not to continue her story. Reluctantly, Clark moved his hand away from her mouth. He had felt her soft kiss, the touch sending a tingle throughout his body. His eyes darkened slightly and if his parents hadn't been in the room, he would have suggested finishing one of those stories that Lois had packed away. When his hand finally moved away from her mouth, his fingers lingering momentarily before completely withdrawing, Lois turned to Martha. "No, Martha. We haven't decided on a name for the baby yet. We've got a few in mind, but we're still mulling things over." Jonathan brought another box forward and began to open it. "Well, there's still time." Peering into the cardboard container, he grinned. "Well, well, well! What have we here? Lois? Would you care to explain?" Lois flushed scarlet as Jonathan pulled the spangled top of a harem costume out of the box. "Costume party?" "Er... well... not quite." Clark chuckled. "Actually Lois wore it for an assignment." Lois smiled at him gratefully. "Of course I always wondered where she got it. It's an authentic costume, handmade. I can tell by the special stitching it has along the sides." "Well, my Uncle Mike brought it back from the Middle East when he was stationed ....wait a minute. How do you know so much about exotic dancing costumes?!" Clark grinned. "I picked up a lot of information a few years ago -- you know, honey, on that 'assignment'?" His teasing glance dared her to contradict him. "Uh-huh." Lois chewed her lip indecisively. She did want to know more, but she just couldn't bring herself to tell Martha and Jonathan why she'd *really* worn the costume. In the meantime, she settled for a veiled threat. "You'll have to tell me more, someday." She had ways to make him talk. "I didn't realize that story was so memorable, you must have had some interesting interviews." He smiled. "Trust me, it was unforgettable." His eyes locked with hers, and the teasing antagonism leaked away, replaced by warmer feelings. Lois was the first to drop her eyes. Martha watched this exchange with interest, guessing there was more going on than met the eye. "Clark, I thought you learned something about that when you were 16?" Jonathan frowned momentarily, then placed the reference. "Oh, right, your trip to Cairo. You did meet some belly dancers there, didn't you?" Clark stared at his dad, reliving adolescent guilt. "I didn't know you knew that!" Lois quirked a smile at her mother-in-law. "More family secrets? And how did he get to Cairo when he was 16?" Martha laughed softly. "It was all Laura's fault, as usual. My cousin Laura Clark Spencer, that is, although Clark called her--" "Aunt Laura *told* you about that?" Clark asked his dad, still not quite believing what he was hearing. Jonathan nodded. "I wasn't any too pleased with her, either, let me tell you. But she convinced me that you'd taken no harm from it, and when you got home, well, I never brought it up. Thought it might embarrass you." Continued in 3/4 ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 17:45:52 -0600 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Debby Subject: NEW: MY JOURNAL (Introduction) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" TITLE: My Journal Parts: 14 major parts (or "Days"), including three "amendments" to days; multiple email parts when/if submitted to L&C Fanfic list. AUTHOR Debby Stark, Debby@swcp.com RATING P/PG-13 (PG for action and occasional swear words) FEEDBACK Comments welcome in all forums No Editing please (though you can fix typos) ADVICE Read in consecutive order All portions of this story are or will be available on my site, ftp://ftp.swcp.com/pub/users/dstark MyJournal Day... They will be in .doc (Word97) or .rtf (Rich Text Format) form, with a number of jpgs and one jpg in a .doc. I don't think I need to PkZip any of them because I have room on my site. They will also be available via email from me with jpgs as attachments. It's easier to ftp these things though. SUMMARY Clark Kent's adventures in Metropolis. INTRODUCTION: I don't want to tell you a lot about "My Journal". I figure a story stands on its own... or it doesn't. If I have to tell you where it fits into Lois and Clark as a whole, then I haven't told the story well enough. I will say that it is another typical long, long, long, detailed story... but it does have an end, a tie-off point. I have decided is a relationship fanfic. It explores characters. It is illustrated because I thought that would be fun and add to the story. Readers are expected to look at the illustrations when they are mentioned in the story. If feedback is favorable, I will continue to post to the L&C Fanfic List. I will definitely put an installment on my site every several days. ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 17:40:52 -0600 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Debby Subject: NEW: MY JOURNAL - Day 1 (part 1 of 6) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" TITLE: My Journal Day 1, PART 1 of 6 AUTHOR Debby Stark, Debby@swcp.com RATING P/PG-13 FEEDBACK Comments welcome in all forums No Editing please (though you can fix typos) All portions of this story will be available on my site, ftp://ftp.swcp.com/pub/users/dstark MyJournal SUMMARY My only comment is that story is not intentionally connected to Dawning, though a few ideas I introduced there may appear below because I like them better than the show's original ideas. ALTERNATE SUMMARY: Clark Kent's adventures in Metropolis. All characters below belong to DC Comics and Warner Brothers unless they are my own creations. Story by Debby Stark, Debby@swcp.com. Submitted on May 30, 1999 Although I am not one to give clues about what is coming up in a story, preferring the story to speak for itself, my proofers said on first read that they thought this was part of the Dawning universe. I am therefore breaking my rule and announcing that what you are about to read is *not* part of the Dawning universe. My Journal [or, "Making Mr. Superman"] After my first trip taken on my own, in the summer of my 18th year, I returned from Mexico too excited to express myself adequately. Dad handed me a pen and paper and said, "Write it down, son. We know you're a good writer." Mom gave me a name for it, "journaling," which she said does sound funny but it's what journalists do. In case you haven't read anything else by me, I just want you to know that I've been journaling ever since, every time something exciting happens and while it's happening when I can, to get down all my impressions as soon as I can. It's more than writing letters or making scrapbooks - both of which I do - it's additional details, conversations, thoughts, whimsies, everything that occurs to me. It's my life. Unfortunately(?), my life hasn't been very exciting for the past six weeks or so, so I haven't had anything to write about. Today that changed. Tuesday, May 3 Today has probably been one of the best days of my life. Today - I got the job! Not just any job - *The* job! Or, rather, at this point in my life it's about as close to as I can realistically get to *The* job, "The Job of a Lifetime", the "My Career Is On the Right Road and Stretching into the Future Now" job, the "The Job I Want to be Famous For." I realize that for the past several weeks I've had my heart set on working for one newspaper and one newspaper only: The Daily Planet, though getting any job there would have been fine with me. Dad would be surprised to hear that. He was at it again last night over the dinner table: "Why do you want to *start* at the top?" he said. Then he eased back a touch: "Not that you're not qualified..." "It's not 'the top', Dad," though he was right, a "newsroom-based journalist" *is* the top, and I guess wanting it means I've assumed I'm qualified to fill that position. "If they reject you - which odds are they will even though they don't know the first thing about you except you're not a city boy..." He doesn't like "city boys" though personally I don't think he's met very many, "...you'll be all disappointed like you were when your duck didn't win the race at State Fair." To which of course I replied, again, "Dad, that was almost 20 years ago - I was only six years old!" My entry didn't even place after a week of extensive daily coaching (when I wasn't busy with my other farm chores, attending kindergarten, and playing with my friends). Dad has always thought I should have started before the duck even hatched. "And then you flew off--" "Not very far - you wouldn't let me leave the barnyard by myself when I was that age--" "--and scared the living daylights out of your mother and me." "I know... I know," I said, slowly, because his mention of Mom panicking reminded me of her trick to get him to slow down, too. Talk slowly, as though you're addressing a lip reader; he'll respond, people just do that. "But I apologized... and I've been careful... ever since," because I *have* been. He grunted, but it was a slow grunt. Besides, his example wasn't appropriate: it was after we got home >from the State Fair and after I put the duck in his pen that my upset got the better of me. It took time to build. My reaction was to run away from the duck but I "ran" straight up, way up, so technically I stayed within the confines of the barnyard. I floated around, bawling my head off until I noticed what I was doing - flying, for the first time (other than floating in my sleep, which Mom claims I still do from time to time, so that's one more thing to watch out for). That was the last time I flew, too, for another ten years or so, but I could handle it a lot better at 16 years of age than at six years of age. At six years of age I got frightened by a wide variety of things (not the altitude though) and managed somehow to get back down and into Mom's and Dad's waiting arms. His grunt and momentary loss for words told me he realized that the duck metaphor was not the one to use in this situation. I'm glad he didn't break out the frog metaphor. "If it were me," he said, his voice calmer now, "I'd start with a smaller paper and work my way up." "In places like Metropolis they usually call those papers throw-aways, Dad, and I don't want my work thrown away unread." "It doesn't matter what they're called - the Metropolis Star is a fine paper, for example. It isn't a throw away." Mom snorted at that one so I didn't have to. Dad ignored this. "The point is, get to know Metropolis first - since you're still dead set on moving *there*--" "I still am." Not Wichita, not Tulsa, not Kansas City or even Chicago - *Metropolis.* Saying it, even typing it now for this journal, is like uttering a magical word. "--then watch what the Daily Planet does, learn about it from people at the smaller paper, and get some experience living in the city under your belt before you tackle the biggest newspaper in the world." That's not really *bad* advice, I know that; it just wasn't what I wanted to hear. So guess what Mom said? "Starting at the top is just fine, honey! You're a skilled writer!" which is true. I already have a lot of experience working in all the departments of the Smallville Post - sometimes I was the *only* one working in some of the departments. I've written and submitted at least two dozen articles to both nationally known and internationally obscure magazines, and seven of the articles have been published (six by the obscure publications, true), with the seventh article yet to be published ("Farm Wives Leave Stereotypes Behind as They Embrace the Future" in Ladies' Home Journal - really big time!). Mom gave me a hug and told me that all the big, important folks at the Daily Planet would see how good I am and hire me on the spot! You know Mom, always optimistic. "Follow your star!" she said ...again. Following my star isn't real easy since we don't know which star that is and trillions of them are visible from the back porch, where she and Dad like to sit in the evening, looking out at the sky. But I didn't mention those thoughts since I haven't talked much to them about my real origin in quite a while (I definitely am *not* Cousin Julia's little love child; besides, there is no "Cousin Julia" on either side of the family). I don't like them to worry about me when there's nothing anyone can do about it anyhow. During breakfast this morning, Dad said he had decided that Mom cheated last night by bribing me with a quarter of an apple pie to agree with her, but she countered by saying, "'Bribe' nothing! He needed to store up energy for his flight today!" So I'm not sure who had the better advice or who won the fight. I guess I already had compromise in mind since I came to the city willing to take just about any position at the Daily Planet to get my foot in the door. Here's how it went. I thought it would be best to arrive at the Daily Planet building like anyone else would, so I sneaked into Metropolis Union Station at about 7:30 when I figured the place would be busy and I wouldn't be noticed coming out of a dark alley. (Metropolis has a *lot* of dark alleys, even on bright spring mornings.) MUS (they call it that) was busier than any combination train/bus terminal I've seen outside of Bombay, Peking or several other huge cities. Because of that I wonder if anyone would have noticed if I had arrived flying, wearing red, white and blue and banging on a drum. I get the feeling that Metropolitans have seen a *lot*. Buses are more expensive in Metropolis than in many other big cities, too. They cost 50 cents a ride, though transfers are free. I didn't need a transfer because I consulted a schedule board, memorized the all routes, and I found a bus that took me right to Media Square in downtown Metropolis. The ride was pleasant, but I almost got in trouble as soon as I arrived at the bus stop on the northeast corner of Media Square. This is because someone else was in big trouble and I helped them. I never used to notice people getting in big trouble as I was growing up, though that's probably because nothing big ever happens in Smallville. But once I started traveling, I began noticing that things I can help out with seem to happen all the time almost right in front of me. I think sometimes it's lucky I'm there, wherever that may be, even though, of course I can't come right out and show myself - I have to be sneaky. I'd use the frog metaphor here except it turns me off. I guess it's supposed to. (continued) ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 17:41:04 -0600 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Comments: RFC822 error: MESSAGE-ID field duplicated. Last occurrence was retained. Comments: RFC822 error: MESSAGE-ID field duplicated. Last occurrence was retained. From: Debby Subject: NEW: MY JOURNAL - Day 1 (part 2 of 6) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" TITLE: My Journal Day 1, PART 2 of 6 AUTHOR Debby Stark, Debby@swcp.com RATING P/PG-13 Anyhow, there I was, moving out of the way of the people, skateboarders, seeing eye dogs, vendors, delivery people and more rushing along the sidewalk, and in a moment I could just standing there quietly, absorbing all the new impressions. There were new sights, scents, sounds - hundreds and hundreds of sensations, almost all at once. Metropolis feels a little like every big city I've been in: Delhi (the sheer number of people), London (history, ancient next to modern), Tokyo (constant movement), Miami (flavor, spirit), San Francisco (looking to the future... on shaky ground), and a lot more. But my first impression as a want-to-be resident was that Metropolis is bigger and grander somehow than all of those cities combined. It's hard to describe, but I'll keep trying with every entry in this electronic journal. I just haven't been here long enough yet - less than a day - to do the city justice. One of the impressions I got was a sound, an odd, uncomfortable, broken sound. The first thing I thought was, "Someone's in trouble," and I wondered if it was a problem I could help solve. Me, a kid almost fresh off the farm and still dusty from a lot of world travel. Well, you never know: whole TV programs, both fiction and nonfiction, have fish-out-of-water themes, so it must work sometimes. I turned around, trying to tie what I was hearing to something visible, and I saw it a few moments later. One of the main avenues comes off a steep hill and then runs along the east side Media Square. Down that steep hill heading south was a bus rolling fast, faster than anything that big should have been moving because of all the crowds and the traffic. The odd sound I was hearing was most likely the bus's brakes failing. It sounded a lot worse than when Pete Ross's minivan's brakes went out two years ago and his problem happened gradually and on flat ground. This failure must have surprised the bus driver because he was struggling with the wheel and he and most of his passengers (I counted 22) were panicking. He couldn't stop; no one outside the bus seemed to realize he couldn't stop; and he was heading for a stop light that just turned red. It's almost poetic: I didn't stop, either, not to think, not to plan, not to do anything but move and fast, faster than the bus. I moved so fast that no one can see me at that speed (or no one ever notices or if they do they don't believe it, I'm not sure; it's one of those things that's probably best not questioned). I stopped the bus, one handed, before it entered the intersection. My solution wasn't graceful but there wasn't time for grace. Actually, I'm getting too poetic here: there was enough time to plan. On the way toward stopping the bus, it occurred to me that after I stopped it - I had no doubt that I could stop it, buses in general aren't particularly heavy and I calculated that its momentum wasn't making it much heavier - then what? Would it keep on rolling if I didn't hold it? Probably. I sure couldn't stay and hold it because how could I explain what I was doing? (Insert frog metaphor here). Most important, I didn't want to miss the opening of Daily Planet's Personnel Office. I know that sounds callous. If there had been nothing else I could do, I would have stayed and held that bus and accepted the consequences. That's life. But there *was* a solution: on the way to stop the bus, zigzagging through and around the crowds of people, I grabbed the first thing I saw that fit my needs: a big, heavy newspaper box - appropriately a Daily Planet box - and as I stopped the bus I threw the box under its right front tire set. This caused the bus to turn at about a 45-degree angle and run into a sturdy light pole and, next to that, a stout stoplight pole. Because I had slowed the bus enough, it came to a complete stop with little damage. The weight of the bus did no more than bend the poles slightly (I checked that this afternoon). That turned out to be enough to hold the bus in place; no more running away for it. I don't think anyone on the bus was hurt. I'm sure they were shaken up, but a lot of them were shaken before the bus stopped. Three people walking along the street actually tried to get on the bus after it stopped! One succeeded and as soon as she entered, she threw herself on the floor and began to act shaken up, too. I don't know why she did that or the outcome of her behavior. I'll have to find out. I'm sure that no one saw me. I've done this kind of thing in public a few times before. Six or seven times. Eight. Maybe more. Of course I haven't done *this* specific kind of thing before. I've reacted to some big problem with hardly a thought, but I've moved so fast that I'm sure I simply wasn't seen. At least there's never been any evidence afterward linking me to what I did. That makes me sound rather complacent, doesn't it? I don't mean to be, but I don't seem to be able to help myself. I have to react in this kind of situation - I *have* to, especially when no one else can. So I have to because I can. And I want to. Sometimes it's fun and those times I enjoy. Other times things still turn out bad, but I hope that my helping has never made things worse in the long run (this hasn't been the case as far as I know). The harsh reality is, though, that I hope no one ever links me to my stunts, because if I'm found out, it could ruin any career I make for myself. I don't want to get famous for saving people that way; it's so one dimensional and I'm a multidimensional kind of guy. (insert image of Mom giving me a good smack and then a hug) I returned to where I'd left my suitcase, grabbed it, and crossed the plaza toward the south at a normal - normal for the city - hurried pace, and by the time I had passed the big fountain there in the center of the plaza, I began to feel safe. I'm not sure if I should tell Mom and Dad about this. Mom would be happy that no one was hurt-and Dad would be, too, and then he would ask if my suitcase got stolen because I dropped it when I ran out to stop the bus. It *wasn't* stolen, but I did notice some people eyeing it - it, not me. I wonder if they thought I was abandoning it, though I was "gone" for only a few seconds. Since some of the people were "street people" (I've seen them all over the world), if they had claimed my things, at least they would have wound up with warmer clothes. I wouldn't have been real happy about losing this computer though. However, since no one chased me to question me about what happened (and no one even breathed the word "frogs"), I don't think I need to mention this to Mom and Dad. I did want to get it down in this journal, though, because if I ever have a family and kids and they have kids and you kids are reading this, you might like to know what happened and I hadn't been in the city even an hour yet. The Personnel Office of the Daily Planet opens at nine. This was confirmed by Mr. Mounts, the security guard in the lobby. I asked him if I could wait. He said, "Yeah, kid, but you'll have to do something with that suitcase, you can't bring it any further into the building. It could have a bomb or poison gas canisters in it, or worse." That surprised me. "Does that kind of thing happen often?" "Yes," he said, deadly serious. "Just last week someone tried to bring in a miniature nuclear device, but we detected it as soon as they came within 50 yards of the building." Mr. Mounts preened. "I apprehended the suspect personally as she walked through the revolving doors." He pointed at them. I looked back. Yards away, the doors were constantly revolving with people entering and leaving the spacious lobby. "We didn't get her accomplices, so we've doubled up on security." "Wow! A *woman* carrying a nuclear device!" It looked like Dad was right about how dangerous Metropolis is. I bet Mom would say something about equal rights means equal responsibility and sometimes women don't take responsibility for their actions any more than men do. "Not just *any* woman. We think it was..." He hesitated, as though he decided that it was best to proceed cautiously. "Well, I can't say because I didn't recognize her. She was wearing camouflage paint and lots of padding, so it might not have been her. Bombing isn't her Em-Oh anyway, though some people say..." He frowned and then cut himself off, continuing more formally: "The Metropolis Police Department took whoever she was away and I haven't heard anything about it since. They usually keep me fully informed, so it *may* have been a matter of national security." I told him I was certainly glad to hear that the bombing had been prevented since I would have been very disappointed to find a smoking, radioactive pit in place of the building where I wanted to get a job. I also told him I didn't have any weapons or dangerous things in my suitcase, but I didn't have anywhere to put it, either, since I had just flown into town an hour ago. That was true, of course, but probably not the way he might have thought. He took a long look at me and said, "Okay, you can keep it in here, but I'll have to inspect it first." This took him only about a minute because all I had in there were the two changes of clothes Mom recommended, some fresh toiletries from Walgreen's that Dad bought me as a going-away-again gift, this old laptop computer and some diskettes, and a few books. I think the only thing that surprised Mr. Mounts was that I hadn't locked my suitcase because he lectured me on watching out for thieves and pickpockets lying in wait around every corner. I thanked him for the information and considered telling him about the history of the suitcase. I'll tell you instead: it was Grandfather Caleb's - which means his initials match mine, lucky for me - and he lost the key sometime during the Spanish Civil War. Grandfather used to tie it with rope after that and it survived being loaded on to and off of the backs of a variety of trucks, carts and mules as Grandfather and his comrades fought all over Spain. I remember sitting on his lap to hear bedtime stories (I was four; he died not long after) and Grandfather saying that the only time he really feared for his suitcase was when it and the luggage of all the other soldiers of fortune were taken off the ship when it docked in Metropolis. Maybe distrust of Metropolis is genetic, at least up through Dad. Maybe I take more after Mom's side of the family. I didn't tell Mr. Mounts the story because he was too busy and I think the latches on the suitcase are strong enough. Also, I've only used it once, this morning, between Smallville and Metropolis. For nearly all my other trips I've just gone with the clothes I had on and carried necessities in my backpack. (continued) ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 17:41:11 -0600 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Comments: RFC822 error: MESSAGE-ID field duplicated. Last occurrence was retained. From: Debby Subject: NEW: MY JOURNAL - Day 1 (part 3 of 6) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" TITLE: My Journal Day 1, PART 3 of 6 AUTHOR Debby Stark, Debby@swcp.com RATING P/PG-13 Mr. Mounts seemed to be satisfied that I wasn't a terrorist, just a person looking for a job. He said that if I wanted to, I could put my suitcase in a coat closet he said was secure. He sweeps it for bugs and the like every day, and he keeps his own coat and lunch box in there. I thanked him and let him take my suitcase and my overcoat, but I kept my portfolio. I sat down out of the way then and watched him continue to greet employees, answer visitor questions, and turn away a street person just as he stumbled through the revolving doors. He didn't look like a terrorist but one never knows. I didn't see any dangerous-looking women. When 9 o'clock came a few minutes later, Mr. Mounts pointed down a side hall and said, "Personnel's down that way, Clark, good luck." I thanked him again for all his help and went down the hall, saw a door with a frosted window on which "Personnel" was stenciled and entered. I introduced myself to a woman, Ms. Findlay, who was sitting behind a counter. I told her I'd sent an introductory letter about myself three weeks ago and last Wednesday had received a one-page confirmation of its receipt with the suggestion that I come some time this week for a chat with Personnel. Ms. Findlay said, "Ah, yes. That letter. We do send that out to promising applicants. I'm sure a copy of your letter is around here somewhere..." She paused, put a finger to her lips, and looked around the office. What I could see of it was clean, neat and well ordered. Perhaps my letter was filed in a different room. She looked back at me. "In the meantime, fill out these." She gave me an application several pages long and pointed to a small room off to the side. I sat down in there at a table and filled out the application. It was extensive but general. I've filled out shorter ones like it before back in Smallville and in Wichita. Employers there usually aren't worried about explaining employee rights and warning about background checks and the consequences of discovering an applicant has lied. I didn't have to lie about anything. Fortunately, job application forms never ask questions like "Have you ever gotten your hand caught in the fan belt of a tractor and, if so, what were the results?" Would they understand if I answered: "Yes. Not applicable."? I don't think so. This application warned that random drug testing is performed by the Daily Planet Corporation. That I could have trouble with. I'll deal with it if and when it comes up, that's all I can do. When the application asked what position I was seeking, I wrote in "Reporter." It didn't ask any questions that would let me be more specific. I hoped my resume, which I gave Ms. Findlay when I returned the application, would press my case for me. It would have to introduce me since I couldn't introduce myself. She took the application and my resume, put them in a folder, smiled, and said that I would hear from them if an opening arose. I admit here and now that my stomach did a flip and I suddenly wanted to fly away crying... but the desire to react that way vanished in a split second. I'm an adult now, I told myself; I can handle this. I immediately asked the woman if there was any way my application and resume could be put into the system now. I would be quite happy to wait here for the results of a preliminary review. I had after all come all this way assuming that I would be interviewed, as the confirmation letter had suggested, and I had no place else to go. My argument made her pause. I have no clue what she wanted to say. What she did say, after a quiet sigh, was "All right, you can wait." Since other applicants needed the little room, she instructed me to sit in the waiting area where there were comfortable chairs. Today's edition of The Planet - I like to call it "The Planet" now - was there, so I read that. Slowly. Very slowly. When I was finished, none of the magazines spread out on the coffee table looked interesting - I was too antsy to read anyhow and I couldn't just *sit* there... but I had to. If I left, that would be admitting defeat. My application, just one among thousands they must receive each year, would be lost in the shuffle. I had to be here to press what little case I had. This could be the only chance I got; I had to grip it with all my strength. I sat back, closed my eyes, and reviewed Hawking's *A Brief History of Time* because I think it gives me some leads about my origin. He doesn't realize it, of course, but you know how it is, I have to look everywhere. The least likely source might hold the most telling clue. Ms. Findlay called my name about 45 minutes later. I stood right up. She said, "Mr. White asked if you have some samples of your work that he can look at." "Mr. White" is Perry White, The Planet's City Editor (though I've learned he's also an Assistant Managing Editor), so you can imagine how pleased I was to hear that. I had started to hope that I'd be given an appointment to talk with the Head of Personnel for later in the week. No, that's not quite right. While I was waiting and reading, I was also trying not to think too much. That didn't work. Almost immediately Dad's voice echoed in my ears, warning me that I might have to pitch a tent, my wait could be a very long one. The Planet might not have any openings at all; the confirmation letter looked like it was a form letter, didn't it? So I was actually expecting - hoping almost - to be told that there weren't any openings for *reporters* but that the Head of Personnel wanted me to talk to someone else, like the Manager of the Mail Room or the Supervisor of the Maintenance Department. It would have been that foot in the door Dad advised me to aim for instead. But the *City Editor* wanted to see some samples of my work! Naturally I gave her my portfolio. It took all my willpower not to thrust it at her, prostrate myself before her and kiss her feet for being the bearer of glad tidings. She impressed me as a pleasant but serious person, so I don't think she would have appreciated the gesture. She thanked me again and asked me to sit down once more, it shouldn't take very long. It took *two hours*. Dozens of prospective employees and people already employed by The Planet came and went. A coffee cart came through. People chatted as though this were an entirely normal Tuesday. It couldn't be normal, it had to be better than that: Mom had even worked up an astrological chart for me on her computer and said this was the best day for me to go job hunting. I don't know how realistic the advice is since it ties into the "follow my star" problem, but it made her feel confident. I've always thought of myself as being very patient (ducks not withstanding), but this wait was the hardest thing I think I've ever had to do! What was worse, I began thinking at about eleven about how I'd given Ms. Findlay and thus Mr. White the only complete copy of my portfolio. I'd have to go back home and assemble another one if this didn't work out and they didn't return it to me intact. Dad would see that as another chance to talk me into taking over the farm and it would be harder than ever to tell him I just don't see that as part of my Grand Scheme. He always looks so disappointed when we talk about that. He tries not to, but I can see it in his eyes. So that's another reason I *have* to make this job work. If he sees that I'm right, that *this* is the place for me, I know he'll support me 100 percent. I can still help out on the farm in my spare time, though since they've both been cutting back slowly as they get older, they're needing me less and less. At about 11:45, a lanky young man with dark, reddish hair rushed into the Personnel Office. He said, "Christine? Where is he?" Ms. Findlay pointed. At me. I stood up. The young man looked me up and down quickly. It was a judgmental look but have no idea what he was thinking. He didn't blanch, he didn't grin, he didn't anything. But then, it didn't matter, he was simply the messenger. In a moment he said, "Come on, Mr. White wants to talk to you." All right! I thanked Ms. Findlay (she gave me a thumbs up) and then followed him double time out of the Personnel Office, down the hall, through the big lobby, past the guard station (Mr. Mounts smiled and nodded at me), and to the elevators. There is a bank of them, and we took the first one to arrive, sardine-ing in with nine other people who were talking about the world of high finance. My guide said nothing as we glided up to the third floor and what is the News Room, according to the label by the number three on the panel by the elevator door. When we stepped out of the elevator, I wanted to ask the young man to slow down so I could absorb a little of the atmosphere like I'd tried to do out on the street after getting off the bus. I realized that this might just be the only time I'd ever see this Mecca of newspaper journalism, so I wanted to take advantage of it. I tried to memorize what I saw: the elevators open onto a large landing that overlooks the Pit (similar areas are called that in movies and by my journalism professors) (the Smallville Post was too small to have a Pit). The lighting fixtures are modern fluorescents but the ceiling, walls and floor reflect the fact that the room is part of an old building, one constructed almost 75 years ago, according to what I've read about the founding of the paper. On the walls are framed front pages reporting famous events, many of which happened before my birth (wherever that was; whenever is most likely the equivalent of late February, 1972, Earth time). There is also a lot of clutter: stacks of newspapers, files, galleys, black-and-white and color prints and proof sheets, and more. Much of the furniture seems to date from the founding of the paper, too: old steel-gray metal desks and chairs, filing cabinets and tables. They are arranged in a haphazard, even dangerous pattern. However, it must work because I saw people weaving their ways through the jumble to interact with other people who were doing everything from working on desktop computers and talking on telephones, to contemplating coffee cups and donuts (lunch?). The noise level was high and everyone was busy or trying successfully to look busy. I wondered what I could do to help. (continued) ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 17:41:18 -0600 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Comments: RFC822 error: MESSAGE-ID field duplicated. Last occurrence was retained. From: Debby Subject: NEW: MY JOURNAL - Day 1 (part 4 of 6) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" TITLE: My Journal Day 1, PART 4 of 6 AUTHOR Debby Stark, Debby@swcp.com RATING P/PG-13 Nothing. It was all I could do to keep up with the young man, who was heading across the overlook toward a door with "Perry White, City Editor" stenciled on it. The young man knocked with one hand and with the other grabbed the door knob, opened the door, entered and said, "Hey, Chief!" Did that indicate they were on good terms? Not necessarily. I heard a gruff voice. "Olsen, what are you doing now?" The voice belonged to Perry White, a man I recognized from pictures I've seen of him. He is in his late 40s; he has thinning gray hair and just a touch of paunch, though I wouldn't be surprised if he were nearly strong enough to wrestle me to the ground. Before he became an editor, he had a distinguished career as a reporter covering dangerous stories on front lines in problem areas around the world. When I read that in the 1997 Journalists Yearbook (as part of my research into the Daily Planet), I wondered what he thought about being an editor and working in a comparatively peaceful newsroom. Mr. Olsen said, "I got him, Chief." "Him? Who?" His eyes turned to me. He frowned. "You? Who are you?" Mr. Olsen stepped back out of the way but didn't leave. I guess I would have stayed to watch, too. The floor was mine. I don't know if having a thick skin - really thick - helps, but it sure didn't hurt to know that Mr. White probably couldn't damage me physically. His frown did seem to indicate that if I was thinking about wasting his time, he'd literally boot me out. I stepped up to his desk and held out my hand. "I'm Clark Kent, sir. You asked to see me. In reference to my application." "Ah?" His frown didn't change but he did redirect it, downward toward his desk. My application and my portfolio were both there, I could see the edge of the latter under what I think was a galley for the front page of the evening edition. The page read: "Luthor Promises Grant to Crime Fighting League." Mr. White said, "Oh. Yes." He waved a hand to his right in the general direction of one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Sit down, sit down." I sat. Mr. Olsen said, "Can I get you some more decaf, Chief?" "No, I've had my quota for the morning." "A danish?" "No." "That new Elvis CD I saw when I was washing your car?" Mr. White looked up. "You washed my car?" The young man smiled. "Yep! I didn't mind carrying the buckets and buckets of water down to the parking garage and--" "Olsen, what do you want?" "An assignment? You know, just a little teeny weeny one you might have lying around waiting for an up and coming--" "Have you fixed my footbath yet?" "Ah... no." "Or the horn on my golf cart?" "I'm still working on that one." "Then you already have two assignments and you wasted time washing my car." "But..." "Git." Mr. White pointed at the door. "Out." Mr. Olsen hesitated, couldn't seem to say what he wanted to say, sighed and got out. Mr. White turned his irritated look at me and eased it a little. "He's a good kid, just..." Just something he didn't want to discuss with a stranger. "All right, Mr...." "Kent." "Kent, yes." He smiled in a perfunctory manner. "Your name rung a bell. My assistant dug up a letter you sent last week, I think it was." He moved the galley, found the letter among the clutter, and sat back with it as he looked it over. "You have good references. I remember Professor..." He smiled again, and again it was just touching his lips. I don't know which professor he was referring to; maybe he didn't, either. It didn't matter. He looked up at me. "Do you have a Ph.D?" "No, sir." That information is on my resume; I wondered if he had overlooked it. I've thought about getting a Ph.D., but I've always preferred to be out talking to people to being cramped up in a classroom or a library, worrying about defending a thesis. None of my professors pressed me very hard on it, either. They've always liked my writing and wanted me to work for a newspaper, though, like Dad, they were surprised to hear that I was leaving the practically permanent position at the Smallville Post to try for a job at The Planet. "Well," he looked back at my letter. "I have Ph.D.s who are hardly qualified to deliver newspapers, so that's no loss." He looked over the top of the letter. "Everyone wants to be a reporter..." "Yes, sir. I do have experience that I know will be helpful in working for this paper." I almost said "I think will be helpful" but I decided at the last second that a positive approach with this man was better. "Experience such as..." He sat up again, opened my portfolio and looked at the first sample. "Such as this article, 'The Mating Rituals of the Knob-Tailed Gecko'?" "Yes, sir, exactly." He sighed. "Kent, I'm sure they were fascinated by this in... in..." He picked up the entire sheaf of my tear sheets [note to great-grandchildren: these are paper samples of my work torn out of paper publications] and tapped them into neat, squared-off form. "Kansas?" "Kansas." He put the sheaf down. He repeated the word as though it were foreign and of a suspect nature: "*Kansas*... Well, in Metropolis--" I almost heard Mom's voice say, "Jump!" I jumped: "Sir, in Metropolis I think readers would be interested in my follow up to that first article." He blinked and frowned. Had I been impetuous and wrong to interrupt him? He said, "Follow up?" "Yes, sir. It's the very next article." He raised an eyebrow and looked a little further, uncovering, "This one?" "Yes, sir." He picked it up and frowned at it now, muttering, "'How I Determined the Mating Rituals of the Knob-Tailed Gecko While Assisting the Endangered Perdido Tribe to...'" He read ahead, then continued aloud in a more animated manner, "'Defeat a Multinational Logging Company'?" "Yes, sir, that one. I had to write the first one to be allowed to write the second one. The process is explained in the sidebar by the Gazette's editor." He grunted, his frown faded, then spent a few quiet moments skimming the sidebar and then my article. As he did this, I looked around his office, taking another perhaps "only" chance. There were shelves full of books, papers, galleys, CDs, tapes, computer diskettes, and mementos. On the wall were framed certificates and awards, but in easy view from where he sat and off to my left were several framed pictures of Elvis Presley. Two were signed but not made out to Mr. White personally. He regained my attention as he mumbled some key words: "Men, women and children... pollution... dynamite... Luthor International Environment Conservation Unlimited... clear cutting... floods... assassination attempts..." He eventually looked up from that set of tear sheets. "I see you took the pictures, too." "Most of them, yes, sir. The Gazette added a few from their archive." "How did you get so close to that jaguar?" Oh. Ah. I couldn't say it had let me approach, that we didn't have reason to fear each other. "I moved very carefully?" "It looks like you weren't hurt. Was it? It doesn't look stuffed." "No, sir, it was alive and quite healthy. Its appearance that morning was simply fortuitous. We used it to help convince a lot of the loggers that the forest gods were not pleased with what they were doing." He looked at me carefully now. I felt like I was being really seen at last. "Uh-huh. Are you interested in subterfuge?" Huh? "Beg your pardon, sir?" "A good reporter in Metropolis sometime has to... well, we'll get into that later. Did you have any trouble in the jungle? Did you get sick? Hurt?" "No, sir." "How's your health now?" "Fine, sir. I've hardly ever been sick in my life." "Oh, good." But I don't think he believed me. Maybe I should pretend I had some common childhood illnesses except that would be lying. He asked next, "Did you get in any legal trouble down there in...?" He indicated the story and thus the Perdido tribe's homeland. "No, sir. Some of the authorities being paid off by the logging company weren't, aren't very happy with me, but I tried to distance myself from that while assisting the tribe." "I see..." (continued) ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 17:41:24 -0600 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Debby Subject: NEW: MY JOURNAL - Day 1 (part 5 of 6) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" TITLE: My Journal Day 1, PART 5 of 6 AUTHOR Debby Stark, Debby@swcp.com RATING P/PG-13 Though I don't think he did understand, I got the immediate impression that he would look into it and by the next time we talked about it (if there was to be a next time), he would understand everything. He asked, "Have you been in any legal trouble at all?" Interesting question. I'm sure some of the things I've done have broken laws in ways no one expects, but I've never hurt anyone or anything that I know of. It's the same thing with lying. I don't like to do it but sometimes I have to because it protects more people (Mom and Dad mostly) than it harms (say, customs agents). I think it was best for me to say, "No, sir. I almost got a speeding ticket once in Smallville, but..." the Highway Patrol Officer decided it was okay since my passenger, Mrs. Tombaugh, was clearly in labor, so... "Can you pass a drug test?" "Yes, sir." Here I should have crossed my fingers. Mom and I have talked about this. "I have a religious problem about giving blood," which is almost true: many religions fascinate me and I might adopt one some day. Perhaps Ahimsa, which has sanctions against harming living beings. Bloodletting could come under the sanctions, particularly if it's my own blood. It's tenuous, I know. It also wasn't adequate, but I hoped this concession was: "But that doesn't cover urine or saliva samples or breath analysis." "All right. Do you work out? You look like you're in good shape." "I think I am, sir. "You grew up on a farm?" "Yes, sir." "What about that old story about the kid who starts carrying a calf around every day and by the time the calf grows up the kid is stronger than..." he paused, as though wondering why he was asking about this. "Sir?" "So you worked hard on the farm, you did a lot of physical work." "Yes, sir." "I guess that sticks with a fellow." "It does, sir." "And you can drive. Tractors, trucks, cars..." "Yes, sir." "Okay. Have you visited Metropolis before now?" "No. I have gone through the airport several times, but this is the first time I've come into town." I entered the airport once when I was ten with my folks, coming and going on the way to somewhere else, and the second time a few years ago, when I was 19, before I was confident enough to travel on my own across the Atlantic. "Just the airport then?" "Yes, sir." "Umm..." He rubbed his chin, a thoughtful gesture. "Then no one knows you..." "I don't think so, sir. Just Mr. Mounts in the lobby and Ms. Findlay in Personnel." "Well, that's good." Knowing so few people was good? "Sir?" "That's what I mean about subterfuge. I want a certain number of my reporters to be faces in the crowd gathering information for stories. If everyone knows them, if they become celebrities in their own right, they're not any good to me." "Oh, of course, sir." That made a lot of sense. I could be a face in the crowd. I've done that in the past. I enjoy listening to people. People enjoy being listened to. If the person being interviewed thinks the interviewer is important, that will affect the quality of the information the interviewer obtains. While I want to be famous for my writing, I want that fame to be known only by my peers and friends. I want readers simply to know that when they see my name on a story, they are about to read something interesting. Other than that, they don't need to think about me at all. He tapped my second, larger, illustrated Gazette article. "If I can keep this I'll read it tonight. I'll have more time then." Well, that was something! "I'd be pleased for you to read it, sir. I know it's long, but the Gazette wanted every detail." He nodded and his smile, while small, seemed genuine this time. "I like details, too. Now, this little detail of your upcoming article in the... that women's magazine." It suddenly occurred to me that he had only looked at the front page of my resume. All the information about my publication history is in date order on my resume, and mention of the Gazette articles falls on page two. No wonder he questioned my qualifications! I said, "It's the Ladies' Home Journal." "Yes. I'm sure it's fascinating, but my people are dedicated servants of the fourth estate who deal routinely with matters of international significance. This is Metropolis, not the countryside." "I know, sir." "I know that any good journalist would be pleased to get an article in a national magazine, but my reporters have a different take on things. They're too busy to write fluff pieces." "I see, sir," though I don't think my story for the LHJ is remotely "fluff." I didn't think it wise to disagree with him right then. He considered me again, long and hard. Relying on my thick skin, I sat quietly, waiting, meeting his gaze but not, I hope, in a challenging manner. In time he sat back and said, "So you might not want to brag about that particular article." "No, sir." "If you make it through your six months' probation here, then you can brag." I have excellent hearing and a good memory, but sometimes I can't believe what I hear. "Sir?" "On the basis of what I read in your portfolio and the fact that you seem to have a lot of stamina, and I assume you can type..." "Yes, sir." "And you don't have a pathological fear of computers..." "No, sir." "And you don't mind working long hours..." "Not at all, sir." "And you can work under pressure..." "I thrive on pressure, sir." "Then I'm willing to hire you on as a reporter on a probationary basis. Six months. If you survive and do well, then we'll give you another six months." "Thank you, sir." "Now," he sat forward again and pointed his finger at me in an almost fatherly manner, "I warn you: it won't be an easy job. Odds are you'll get the worst assignments if you don't find your own stories and even when you find them, you'll need my approval every step of the way. You'll be on the bottom of the totem pole and everyone will be... letting loose on you. Did you ever clean out a barn?" "Yes, sir." "I guess you have, haven't you? This job will be worse than that. You'll discover that other reporters will *enjoy* stepping all over you because they were stepped on and they'll have no pity on you until you prove yourself. And if you're like all the other youngsters I've given a chance to, every time you see the bottom of a shoe, you'll think you're in seventh heaven." "Yes, sir," I peeped. "I'm sure I will, sir." "All right." He stood up. I did, too. He extended his hand. "Welcome to the Daily Planet..." "Kent." "Kent." We shook. I was elated and had to concentrate on not letting that elation carry me away so I wouldn't grasp his hand too hard. "Thank you, sir, I'll do my very best." His voice tone said he'd heard this before. "Right." He looked toward his door. It was closed. He bellowed: "Olsen!" Mr. Olsen rushed in. He was carrying a screwdriver and a piece of wire about nine inches long, one end of which was stripped. "Yeah, Chief?" "Show Kent where the spare desk is. You know he one. Then show him around and make sure he gets back down to Personnel to do their paperwork." "Gotcha. You know, I'm having a little trouble with that horn..." "Forget the horn - for now. Just show Kent here around." Mr. Olsen brightened. "Right, Chief!" He looked at me, smiling. "Come on, Clark - can I call you 'Clark'?" "Yes--" "Come on." As we left and after I pulled the office door closed behind me, he tossed the wire in the first trash can we passed and stuck the screwdriver in a back pocket of his jeans. He stopped suddenly and turned. "By the way, I'm Jimmy." He held out his hand. We shook; I had no trouble with elation this time, though I was pleased to be on a first-name basis with someone at last. He continued: "I'm the best photographer in the whole building, which means I'm practically the best newspaper photographer in the world." It did mean that, didn't it? "I'm glad to know you." "I'm also pretty good repairing things and surfing the net and that kind of thing, so I get to work all over the paper." "I'm glad he asked you to show me around." "Sure, no problemo. I always like not being the low man on the totem pole for a while." I hope he meant he expected me to move up, not that he expected me not to last. He led me down into the Pit and began introducing me right away. He said that about half the staff was present and there are other shifts full of people covering evening and weekend editions of the paper. Nearly everyone had time to at least nod and smile at me. It didn't look like anyone would start "letting loose" on me right away, at least not this first day. I'll try to be ready for anything tomorrow. (continued) ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 17:41:32 -0600 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Debby Subject: NEW: MY JOURNAL - Day 1 (part 6 of 6) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" TITLE: My Journal Day 1, PART 6 of 6 AUTHOR Debby Stark, Debby@swcp.com RATING P/PG-13 On the south west corner of the Pit are two columns of file cabinets, one long and one short, that make up walls, and between them is a desk. This is *my* desk! It's an old one and there were stacks of what must have been unfiled paperwork on it. Jimmy quickly restacked several of the stacks into taller stacks, then tried to blow off some of the dust that had accumulated on the desk's surface. I discovered that *my* desk's empty drawers stick like they don't want to be disturbed, but I think I can gently persuade them to slide out. I'll need them because I want to fill them with my own files full of information, story leads, contact names, all that kind of thing. I did notice that there was another, more centrally located desk just south of the InfoCenter and within calling distance from Mr. White's office. It wasn't being used as anything more than a table though. Piles of files, galleys, and pictures in boxes were stacked all over it, but less so than on *my* desk. That better-located desk had a desktop computer on one corner, and someone had made room for a dead plant in a salt-encrusted clay pot on another corner. Observing me as I looked over my new workplace and the view I had >from it, Jimmy said, "Well, at least it's not noisy back here, you can almost come and go unseen." "Yes, I suppose I could." There are several exits along the back wall. I'll have to draw up a map when I figure out where everything is. "But I don't mind the noise at all." "Oh?" He apparently hadn't considered that someone would like noise, but it's the kind of noise that makes the difference: newspaper pits are *supposed* to be full of noisy life 24 hours a day. I love the idea. The Smallville Post was dead quiet four days out of the week and managed to break into only a raucous murmur the other three days. He said, "Well..." Now he glanced toward what I had been looking at, that piled-upon unused desk out in the middle of the action. He looked back at me and said in a serious tone, "That desk's being used." Well, yes, but... He continued: "It's... special. It's reserved." "I see." I didn't, I don't, but I got the feeling he didn't want to talk about it. Maybe reserved means waiting for someone's return, someone on an extended vacation. He changed the subject abruptly and asked if I'd eaten lunch. When I said, "No, have you?" he said "Nope. Let's go." We went to lunch. He showed me the little cafeteria and attached lunch room, and he warned me against eating there early in the week and on Sundays, even though employees get a discount at all times. We went to a Taco Bell about a block away from The Planet. We chatted and learned a little about each other. He was born here in Metropolis and his parents are divorced. His mother is a hairdresser and his father is an secret agent who has bases of operation all over the world - I swear that's what he told me. He has a nice apartment and he said he could help me find one, too, so I don't have to stay in a "flophouse." When I said I wasn't staying in a flophouse, I wasn't staying anywhere yet, he looked surprised and immediately recommended this place I'm in now. I think it's actually a flophouse, but I don't mind it, it's okay for now. It even has a small kitchen area and some pots and pans. I'll have to find a market. Maybe tomorrow. I do wish the electricity were more reliable; I don't like to rely on my computer's battery. Good thing I can type fast. The rest of my day was spent in Personnel, going through the orientation program. I also visited The Planet's small infirmary and an RN there gave me a cursory examination. She looked in my ears; they're fine. She looked in my eyes. As I told Jimmy (I don't know why he asked but he did), they're 20-60 or so, just enough to need the glasses. I really don't need them, I'm just used to them. They helped train me when I was young and my eyes started doing things Mom and Dad didn't expect. Also, since they both wear glasses, it makes me look a little like them. The nurse weighed me and said I'm average for my height. She listened to my heart and thumped my back. Both okay. She sent me to a restroom attached to the examination room and I returned with a urine sample which I'm confident shows nothing unusual because the ones I gave for the football team at Midwest U were never questioned. I returned to My Desk at 4:46 and just sat there, at last having a chance to absorb some atmosphere. For about 30 seconds. Then I got up and started filing away the papers that had been left over the - what, months? I bet so - on the desk. The file system was simple; people apparently just didn't have time to use it. While doing this, I saw Jimmy across the room. His back was to me, he was on the phone, and he was talking rapidly. He said, "Got one, looks promising." A female voice (I'm certain it was female) replied just as quickly and in a flat tone: "You've said that before." He shot back with "My record's as good as yours." "What record?" "Besides, this time it was Perry's--" "Perry found him?" "Well..." The female voice paused, then said, tired, "That's different. I really need someone - but he better be *good.* Phase One him." Or I think that's what she said. Sometimes a noisy room can be a drawback when it's between me and what I'm listening to - eavesdropping on, okay, but I found myself inadvertently listening in on many conversations today. Not that it makes a difference. Even if I can't help it most times, there's no good excuse for what I did since no one was in any danger (sometimes I'm able to help people in trouble if I happen to overhear them). I don't think anyone was in trouble though. No doubt Jimmy's conversation had something to do with a photographic assignment. Nearly all the conversations I overheard today had to do with newspaper work in some form or another. At the same moment the person on the other end of the call said whatever she said, someone up in the kitchen off the elevator landing dropped a coffee cup and began to curse about scalding hot water. He had burned himself. There's a big, droopy aloe vera plant on one of the filing cabinets (it seems nobody knows how to thin those plants). I got up, peeled off a leaf, weaved my way through the crowd to the kitchen (I noticed Jimmy, off the phone now, letting himself into Mr. White's office again), and I applied first aid to my coworker's reddened hand. It wasn't a serious injury. I received a hearty thank you and returned to my desk and my self-assigned filing job just before the five o'clock shift change. At that point I got Mr. White's okay to go home. He was out cruising around the Pit, he passed by, he stopped to watch me, and in a few moments he said, "You don't have to do that. A clerk can do that." No clerks had done it so far. "I don't mind, sir." "All right, then we'll see you in the morning, ..." "Kent?" "Right. Kent. At eight. I think we'll keep you on the day shift while you're learning the ropes." "Yes, sir," I said. "Thank you for giving me this chance, sir!" He paused, smiled - he looked tired - nodded and sauntered off. I wonder when he goes home, if he goes home. Some editors practically live at their papers; I hope he's not one of them. It's a hard job and a person really needs a family for support. I stopped filing at five. I found a staircase and used it to reach the lobby rather than wait for an elevator. There in the lobby I got my suitcase from Mr. Mounts, thanked him, and then left the building. I found this flophouse where Jimmy said it was, only a little more than mile from the Daily Planet building in an colorful, probably historic neighborhood. I suppose it could be called a ghetto, too. I'll have to take a walk around and acquaint myself. I think it would be a good idea to walk all over the city eventually to begin to get to know and understand it. One more interesting thing about this room: there's a pay phone *in* the room, on the wall, so I used it to call Mom and Dad a few minutes ago to give them the good news. I'll be using the same phone to log on later, too. Dad asked if this place costs a lot. I said "No," though it will cost more to stay here for one week than in the best apartment in Smallville for a month (I know this because I checked them out one day for an article on the cost of living). I'll get my first paycheck next week; I think that will cover it okay. Jimmy said he hopes I'm still working at the paper then. He said he'll watch out for me. He's only 20 years old, but he's as protective as a big brother. That's really nice. Dad was surprised that I'm making friends already. Mom wasn't. Dad said, "Of course Clark makes friends easily, but that's *Metropolis*, Martha, and some so-called friends aren't friends but people looking for a quick buck. They want to take innocent people for everything they have." "I'm being careful, Dad." "And Clark's as innocent as they come." "No, I'm not, Dad." Not about a lot of things, anyway. Mom was already sighing. "Metropolis is *not* a cesspool of iniquity, Jonathan. There are millions of nice, average people there just trying to live normal lives." As they were arguing - which is really too harsh a word for it - they were *teasing* each other, that's the word I want - I could imagine Mom on her cell phone in her studio and Dad in the den on the extension by the computer. I miss them. I'd like to see them again... but it's thrilling being here in Metropolis, too. I didn't mention the bus incident but it occurs to me that maybe I should see if anything was reported on it, if the incident made it into the paper, any paper. Sometimes that's happened. I don't get mentioned but what I've done does. Reports usually say that something that seemed odd and unexplainable is actually commonplace and people just never noticed before, so everyone can relax. Metropolis is so big and so much happens that the uncommon must happen often here, too. If I'm right about that, I wonder if anyone thought what happened was newsworthy. Well, even if I'm desperate for a story, you won't see *me* reporting on anything I've done! Mom ordered me to get plenty of sleep and Dad warned me about bed bugs biting because Metropolis has a real pest problem. Mom told him she'd show him a pest problem, and he was chuckling as we hung up. Now I'm sitting here finishing up my report for the day. I'll try to make detailed reports about what I do every day at least for the first few weeks. Maybe someday I'll write a book. At least you are reading this, dear great-grandchildren, and that's great. I hope my life will settle into a daily grind as I learn more, and I can supplement these journal entries with newspaper clippings with my name on them. [to be continued... and posted to the L&C Fanfiction List if this installment gets a good response. If not, I'll just post it to my site] note: CK's resume can be found at ftp://ftp.swcp.com/pub/users/dstark Stories MyJournal Day01Tuesday as CKResume.doc (Word97) or CKResume.rtf (rich text format). Also available via email attachment in the same formats. All such noted extra bits in coming installments of this journal are available at the above-noted ftp addess [I thank my proofers and creative consultants, Pat H., Lynda L., Jeanne P. and Steve H. for all their assistance!] ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 18:06:16 -0600 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Debby Subject: NEW: MY JOURNAL - Did you get it? Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" I posted 6 parts of my story... only to be informed by the server that they were accepted "Your message dated Sun, 30 May 1999 17:45:52 -0600 with subject "NEW: MY JOURNAL [et cetera] has been successfully distributed to the LOISCLA-GENERAL-L list (323 recipients)." and then "Your message is being returned to you unprocessed because it appears to have already been distributed to the LOISCLA-GENERAL-L list. That is, a message with identical text (but possibly with different mail headers) has been posted to the list recently, either by you or by someone else..." If my story didn't arrive (grrr....) you can't ftp to my site to get it, email me and I can email it direct to you. Maybe this is a fluke... but it's upsetting :\ Debby Debby@swcp.com ftp://ftp.swcp.com/pub/users/dstark Stories MyJournal ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 20:05:23 EDT Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: "Liz A." Subject: Re: NEW: MY JOURNAL - Did you get it? MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Hi :) I don't know about anyone else, but I got the whole story ;) Liz :) SilvrBrwne@aol.com ICQ# 23588950 SuprBrwne on IRC ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 20:30:23 EDT Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: No Name Available Subject: Re: NEW: MY JOURNAL - Did you get it? MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit I got all of the story too! =) Alexis ;-.) ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 19:48:15 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Sheila Harper Subject: Re: NEW: MY JOURNAL - Did you get it? Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" At 06:06 PM 5/30/99 -0600, Debby wrote: >I posted 6 parts of my story... only to be informed by the server that they >were accepted >and then > > "Your message is being returned to you unprocessed because it >appears to have > already been distributed to the LOISCLA-GENERAL-L list. That is, a >message with > identical text (but possibly with different mail headers) has been >posted to > the list recently, either by you or by someone else..." Debby, check your "TO:" box. In the version of Eudora that I'm using, when my default setting is "Reply to all," the fanfic addy is listed twice, and I have to remove one of them or I get the same message you got. The story arrived fine per the first listing, then triggered an error message per the second listing. Sheila sharper@cncc.cc.co.us ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 18:17:08 -0700 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Stacy Subject: Re: NEW: MY JOURNAL - Did you get it? MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii I got the whole thing too. Stacy _________________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Get your free @yahoo.com address at http://mail.yahoo.com ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 31 May 1999 09:28:45 +0100 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Yvonne Connell Subject: Miracle Cure? MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Last night, despite a pounding headache, I dragged myself out to my local Blockbuster and was rewarded for my efforts by managing to snaffle the last remaining copy of Futuresport. Came home, watched the movie, and by the end, my headache had miraculously gone. What more can I say? Cheers, Yvonne (yconnell@ukf.net) Futuresport ----------------- Fast, effective relief for all types of headache Adult dosage: 1 viewing per day Child dosage: (over 15) as per adult, (under 15) use L&C instead - available from good Folcs around the world DO NOT EXCEED THE STATED DOSE (uncontrollable euphoria may result) ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 31 May 1999 10:41:01 +0100 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: LabRat Subject: Re: Where did everybody go? MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Ah, thanks, Peace. I'd deleted the message and couldn't recall who it was who'd asked. I wonder if Sue made the same mistake I did. I misread Elaine's post and ended up in an empty room in #L&CFicOrg. Luckily, I then went to #loiscla and found nle, who pointed me in the right direction. /me waves thanks to nle. Wouldn't have missed that for the world. LabRat :) Doc. Klein's LabRat labrat@ukf.net "What if everything is an illusion and nothing exists? In that case, I definitely overpaid for my carpet." -- Woody Allen, Without Feathers, 1976. "I won't eat anything that has intelligent life but I would gladly eat a network executive or politician." - Marty Feldman. ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 31 May 1999 06:07:26 -0600 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Debby Subject: Re: Escape from Krypton? 1/1 (SPOILERS) In-Reply-To: <374CAAA9.7EBE4C0E@erols.com> Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" At 10:15 PM 05/26/1999 -0400, Sandy wrote: >[snip] But, we just couldn't remember the name. The very next >day, totally out of the blue, The Washington Post's Style section did a >reasonably big story on him, and I went running into my colleague's >office with the paper, saying, "This is the guy!" Weird. Not psychic, >just weird. Sure it was psychic: it was deja vu in reverse :) > >> One short question for you, though. How would you define "vignette"? A short story without a lot of plot that helps us understand a character or characters better as it explores a small event in his/her/their life/lives :) I like to write vignette, though they usually turn out to be longer... [Sandy replied with] >a) a short literary sketch or description b) a short, delicately >memorable scene in a film or a play. > >Couldn't tell you what a "delicately" memorable scene is. Indelicate >scenes are always much more memorable. LOL! Maybe the delicate ones are harder to craft, depending on deeper emotional impact Debby Debby@swcp.com ftp://ftp.swcp.com/pub/users/dstark Stories new: /MyJournal/Day01Tuesday on the TV at this time, a sheriff's official is saying "any time you have a senseless murder of 3 teenage boys it frustrates you..." Given the shocks he's been facing, we can forgive his odd statement... They expect to find the murderers; they probably will; they have a good record of catching bad guys here ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 31 May 1999 06:14:05 -0600 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Debby Subject: Re: NEW: MY JOURNAL - Did you get it? In-Reply-To: <5100b1a9.24832c43@aol.com> Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" At 08:05 PM 05/30/1999 -0400, you wrote: >Hi :) > > I don't know about anyone else, but I got the whole story ;) > >Liz :) >SilvrBrwne@aol.com >ICQ# 23588950 >SuprBrwne on IRC Thank you all for reporting getting it :) It was distressing to see that strange message arrive in my box only seconds after I sent out the story... I hope you enjoy it :) Debby Debby@swcp.com ftp://ftp.swcp.com/pub/users/dstark Stories/MyJournal/ ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 31 May 1999 09:37:52 EDT Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: "K.M. de Castro" Subject: Re: Miracle Cure? MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit In a message dated 5/31/99 4:30:45 AM Eastern Daylight Time, yconnell@UKF.NET writes: > > Last night, despite a pounding headache, I dragged myself out to my local > Blockbuster and was rewarded for my efforts by managing to snaffle the last > remaining copy of Futuresport. Came home, watched the movie, and by the > end, my headache had miraculously gone. What more can I say? > > Cheers, > Yvonne > (yconnell@ukf.net) > > > Futuresport > ----------------- > Fast, effective relief for all types of headache > > Adult dosage: 1 viewing per day > Child dosage: (over 15) as per adult, (under 15) use L&C instead - > available from good Folcs around the world > > DO NOT EXCEED THE STATED DOSE > (uncontrollable euphoria may result) > LOL... you made my day... Marie ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 31 May 1999 13:44:16 EDT Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: No Name Available Subject: Re: Miracle Cure? MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit In a message dated 5/31/99 1:30:45 AM Pacific Daylight Time, yconnell@UKF.NET writes: << Last night, despite a pounding headache, I dragged myself out to my local Blockbuster and was rewarded for my efforts by managing to snaffle the last remaining copy of Futuresport. Came home, watched the movie, and by the end, my headache had miraculously gone. What more can I say? Cheers, Yvonne >> WOW that so kewl!!! Watching Dean on tv or movies has been major medicine to me! I like to call, Dean my doctor sometimes because i will not cough or sneeze when he is on tv. If I am not feeling good with like a stomach ache or something i feel better.. etc... i have tried little experiments before. Like when I had a cold my friend held up a picture of Dean. I was coughing uncontrollably until she held up the picture. Then she took the picture away and i resumed coughing again! So I don't know what it means to you.. but to me my philosphy: "watch Dean or look at Dean for whatever ails ya!" ;) Alexis ;-.) ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 31 May 1999 18:37:19 +0100 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Yvonne Connell Subject: Thanks for joining me MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit I meant to say this sooner, but thanks to those of you who turned up to my IRC session on Friday. Maybe I'm flattering myself that you were there because of my invitation, but whatever - it was nice to meet you all. Yvonne (yconnell@ukf.net) ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 31 May 1999 14:56:56 -0400 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Sandy McDermin Subject: Re: NEW: MY JOURNAL - Day 1 (SPOILERS) MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Debby wrote: > > TITLE: My Journal > Day 1, PART 1 of 6 > AUTHOR Debby Stark, Debby@swcp.com > RATING P/PG-13 > FEEDBACK Comments welcome in all forums > No Editing please (though you can fix typos) > All portions of this story will be available on my site, > ftp://ftp.swcp.com/pub/users/dstark MyJournal > SUMMARY My only comment is that story is not intentionally connected to > Dawning, though a few ideas I introduced there may appear below because I like > them better than the show's original ideas. > ALTERNATE SUMMARY: Clark Kent's adventures in Metropolis. * * * * * (SPOILERS BELOW) * * * * Debby: I haven't read all of Dawning and the parts I did get to, I'm afraid I read quite a while ago. So, any comments I make which refers to information I should already know in terms of *your* CK universe, I apologize. First off, I want to say I'm glad you shared "My Journal" here as I enjoy any interesting interpretations of L&C's world. After reading similar spins on things, your nuances, details, and changes are like a breath of fresh air and I loved them. I do want to ask though, did you intend for the dates in the story to be different from the TV show, e.g., born in 1972 instead of 1966(?); arrival in Metropolis in 1999 instead of 1993, etc.? Regarding the writing style, I found it appropriately loose, with some polishing needed and what appeared to be deliberate mistakes. I figured this was purposely done (honestly, I did) to reflect the fact that this is a journal, and journals tend to be free form, stream of consciousness-type writing, and aren't about being perfect. I know if I were trying to create someone's journal, I would do the same sort of thing. But, I also wondered, considering that Clark is a writer and would be a bit self-conscious about it and about the fact that he expects someone to read this some day, whether there might be some stilted passages -- examples of him trying to clean things up. **** Minor comments: Since you brought up the issue of typos: In CK's resume, which *shouldn't* be free form, there are two typos -- adventurer and familiarity. Also, shouldn't you indicate the year he received his degree? There were a few typos in the manuscript itself, although I didn't flag them for the reasons I mention above. Plus, I got into the story and forgot about them. If you want to know what they are, however.... Finally, one little thing to which I'm abnormally sensitive -- bus fares. You say: >Buses are more expensive in Metropolis than in many other big cities, >too. They cost 50 cents a ride, though transfers are free. I'm afraid this is not so, and boy I wish I were living in Metropolis. In most big cities around the U.S., bus fares are at least a buck (and that's non-rush hour and in very few places). In D.C., a base fare within the city is $1.10 with a 25 cent transfer. In Los Angeles, it's $1.35. In NYC, I think it must be about $1.50 based upon what they charge for a subway ride. Chicago: $1.50. Philly: $1.60. (L.A.'s transit authority also has a film office, by the way. Struck me as funny, considering what a mess the system is in.) I'm sorry. This is my bugaboo. Mass transit *should* be 50 cents, then maybe it would truly attract the masses. I shall look forward to more of CK's journal. It's really marvelous, Debby. Can't wait to hear what he has to say about his first interactions with Lois. By the way, where are the graphics to which you refer? Sandy smcdermin@erols.com ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 31 May 1999 13:09:50 -0600 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Debby Subject: Re: NEW: MY JOURNAL - Did you get it? In-Reply-To: <3744871500001AE7@cncc.cncc.cc.co.us> (added by cncc.cncc.cc.co.us) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" At 07:48 PM 05/30/1999 -0500, Sheila wrote: [snip my complaint...] >Debby, check your "TO:" box. In the version of Eudora that I'm using, when >my default setting is "Reply to all," the fanfic addy is listed twice, and I >have to remove one of them or I get the same message you got. In my options (I'm using Eudora 4.0.1) that isn't checked. However, the important thing is that it did get there :) Also, while I get a copy of each message I send to the list normally - I haven't gotten that strange message before... The internet is a challenge sometimes. L&C should investigate... Debby :) Debby@swcp.com ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 31 May 1999 21:17:10 EDT Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Kate Kent Subject: L&C Stuff for sale MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Hi FoLCs- Long time no post for me, so I should prolly reintroduce myself. My name is Kate, formerly Lois_Lane on IRC and currently KatieBugz. For those of you who attended LAFF 97 I was the rambunctious young person dressed up liked Kryptonite. For those of you at NEFF 98...well, you all remember me. I was the youngest FoLC there Anywho, I have just finished my freshman year at University and so I have decided to have a cyber yard sale as it were. So I decided, who better to sell my Lois & Clark stuff to then FoLCs. If I must get rid of it, and I must, then I know you guys will treasure it as much as I have. I am currently working on a web site to sell the stuff. But, I thought I would wet your whistles with a few items up in a little pre-sale. So, here goes. I only have one of each item unless otherwise marked. First come first serve (I go by e-mail date) You must e-mail requests to DREAMKATE1@AOL.COM. Responses to the list or any other e-mail addresses will not be taken. All items are shipped upon delivery of payment. (1) Superman The Animated Series Action Figure: Fully Poseable figure with authentically styled outfit. Figure stands 12" tall and is just so darn cute. Not Suitable for children under 3. In original box. Price: $30.00 plus S/H (2) Superman Hallmark Keepsake Ornament: This quaint Christmas tree ornament features two pieces: a small figure of the Superman as seen in the first issue of Action Comics as well as a small replica of the cover of said issue. It is a handcrafted piece and since I'm Jewish (thanks to friends who never bother to learn your religion) , is brand new with original box. Price: $11.00 plus S/H (3)Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Comic Book: This book features the Superman comics that inspired the series in one neat set, with our favorite reporting duo on the cover (1st season photo.) The stories included are: I HAVE TWO COPIES OF THIS -The Story of the Century (Man of Steel #2, 1986) -Tears for Titano (Superman Annual #1, 1986) -Metropolis- 900 Mi (Superman #9, 9/87) * a must read for Lex fans -The Name Game (Superman #11, 11/87) -Lois Lane (Action Comics #600, 5/88) * Classic Lois -Headhunter (Adventures of Superman #445, 10/88) -Homeless for the Holidays (Adventures of Superman #462, 1/90) -The Limits of Power (Adventures of Superman #466, 5/90) -Survival (Action Comics #655, 7/90) Price $13.00 plus S/H - - - - - OK, that's a little taste of what is to come. I will publish the URL of the web page with the other stuff when I finish making it. If anyone is worried about their transactions I can give you e-mail addresses of ppl who have ordered stuff from me before (a few years ago I printed and sold a T-shirt) Unless you ordered a T-shirt from me you must pay in a money order or cash (If cash, please ship in a secure envelope with paper around the bills to protect it) If you ordered a T-Shirt you will be allowed to pay with a personal check. All payments must be made in US Dollars. Ok, that's all. - Kate Dreamkate1@aol.com ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 31 May 1999 19:31:05 -0600 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Comments: RFC822 error: MESSAGE-ID field duplicated. Last occurrence was retained. From: Debby Subject: Re: NEW: MY JOURNAL - Day 1 (SPOILERS) In-Reply-To: <3752DB78.4E166B04@erols.com> Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" At 02:56 PM 05/31/1999 -0400, Sandy McD wrote: [snip] [recycle Sandy's asterisks] > >* >* >* >* >* >(SPOILERS BELOW) >* >* >* >* * * * * * * * * * >Debby: > >I haven't read all of Dawning and the parts I did get to, I'm afraid I >read quite a while ago. So, any comments I make which refers to >information I should already know in terms of *your* CK universe, I >apologize. That's okay. I can't remember a lot of what I've written for Dawning and plan a reread (gad, the typos... we'll, I'll get to fix them :) >First off, I want to say I'm glad you shared "My Journal" here as I >enjoy any interesting interpretations of L&C's world. Me, too :) >After reading >similar spins on things, your nuances, details, and changes are like a >breath of fresh air and I loved them. Thank you :) >I do want to ask though, did you >intend for the dates in the story to be different from the TV show, >e.g., born in 1972 instead of 1966(?); arrival in Metropolis in 1999 >instead of 1993, etc.? Yes, but that's just the way it happened as "our" dates don't quite match with that universe's dates. This might not have mattered, but around Day 4 or so, I realized that Day 11's date could be very interesting in a minor sort of way so I just decided to pretend that universe's May 2, 1999 falls on a Tuesday :) [translate this as: I didn't worry about searching for a year in our universe, maybe 1993 or 1994, where May 2 really does fall on a Tuesday. I'll research guppies, softball and the actual spelling of Dr. Seuss, but not worry about calendars :)] >Regarding the writing style, I found it appropriately loose, with some >polishing needed and what appeared to be deliberate mistakes. One of my proofers has already alerted me to some I made after she saw the draft. She's sending me a list... for now, they're "deliberate" ;) but feel free to correct them :) >I figured this was purposely done (honestly, I did) to reflect the >fact that this is a journal, and journals tend to be free form, stream >of consciousness-type writing, and aren't about being perfect. Freeform, definitely. I want it to come off as written by someone who knows how to write (pats self on back... strains shoulder...) but is relaxing. (And maybe while his spell checker is turned on, he forgot to turn on his grammar checker... ;) >I know >if I were trying to create someone's journal, I would do the same sort >of thing. But, I also wondered, considering that Clark is a writer and >would be a bit self-conscious about it and about the fact that he >expects someone to read this some day, whether there might be some >stilted passages -- examples of him trying to clean things up. I do tend to write long, involved (confusing, illiterate) sentences and have to go back and chop them up to read easier. I hope not too many go through, though later (spoiler...) CK admits he journalizes in a babbling mode... >**** >Minor comments: > >Since you brought up the issue of typos: > >In CK's resume, which *shouldn't* be free form, there are two typos -- >adventurer and familiarity. Also, shouldn't you indicate the year he >received his degree? Good points. I'll correct these and others you point out and repost them to my site. Anyone who does not wish to revisit my site for them, feel free to correct them in your copy :) PS: I've figured the year should be 1994 and be right after the "B.A." You'd be surprised, but we type a lot of resumes where I work (I work for a typing company... and make typos there, too, gad...) ("Please read this and if you see anything you'd like to change [since it looks different from that chicken scratch on bits of napkin you gave us...], mark it with this red pen and we'll fix it up fast since it's in the computer now :)") >There were a few typos in the manuscript itself, although I didn't flag >them for the reasons I mention above. Plus, I got into the story and >forgot about them. If you want to know what they are, however.... If they weren't so bad as to make you stop and lose the flow of the story, then, whew! :D If you want to send them to me privately, I'll apply them and change out the version on my site :) [I know of one "he" that should have been "the"] >Finally, one little thing to which I'm abnormally sensitive -- bus >fares. You say: > >>Buses are more expensive in Metropolis than in many other big cities, >>too. They cost 50 cents a ride, though transfers are free. > >I'm afraid this is not so, and boy I wish I were living in Metropolis. >In most big cities around the U.S., bus fares are at least a buck (and >that's non-rush hour and in very few places). In D.C., a base fare >within the city is $1.10 with a 25 cent transfer. In Los Angeles, it's >$1.35. In NYC, I think it must be about $1.50 based upon what they >charge for a subway ride. Chicago: $1.50. I know on the Metra one sticks their little ticket in a slot on the back of the seat ahead of one and the conductor punches it... (or did back in... 94?) >Philly: $1.60. (L.A.'s >transit authority also has a film office, by the way. Struck me as >funny, considering what a mess the system is in.) Maybe it's a mess because Speed'sters, Mel Gibson and the like keep wrecking the busses... Albuquerque's bus system is better than nothing. Management's idea of attracting new customers is to cut service... I'm not kidding. They're so stupid. I can hardly wait to see what they'll do when the approach of Y2k forces gasoline and oil prices up, up, up (Chevron already admits it won't be ready). Anyhow, SunTran's prices are 75 cents a ride (less for kids and seniors, with monthly bus passes $24), and transfers are free (usable on routes other than the one on which you get the transfer and only for a few hours). The only other system I know (but I'm sure it's changed) is Tulsa's, where rides were 35 cents each (20 years ago) and transfers were 5 cents, I think. Actually, Mexico City had various tiny charges for its variety of public transportation vehicles (busses, trolleys, subway). Generally a peso or two, but that was +20 years and several devaluations ago (when a peso was 8 cents US). I figure Metropolis has such an immense population (making it a lot like Mexico City but at sea level) that the MetroTran (or whatever) pays for itself and doesn't have to charge very much. Maybe taxes on cars are high, too. Public transportation would be supported to help cut air pollution. Your information though is fascinating. That's the kind of detail a writer needs to know. What about fares for busses in the foreign countries CK has visited? Perhaps writers can ask via this list for that kind of obscure information to make their story ring more true :) >I'm sorry. This is my bugaboo. Mass transit *should* be 50 cents, then >maybe it would truly attract the masses. Locally I wouldn't mind paying more if we had better service. I'd love bus service to and from the airport and popular tourist spots around the city (including downtown Albuquerque, where I live) at all times the airport is open. It is no fun being stuck there on a stormy Sunday night, waiting among people arriving for a convention, and discovering there are only half a dozen cabs in the whole city and half of them are off... >I shall look forward to more of CK's journal. It's really marvelous, >Debby. Can't wait to hear what he has to say about his first >interactions with Lois. By the way, where are the graphics to which you >refer? Day 2 will have a map of the newsroom and a jpg of a short article. These things will occur logically, as CK creates and scans them and attaches them to his journal entries :) Thanks, Sandy, for your feedback. I'm so encouraged that I plan to upload Day 2 to the list and my site on Thursday, okay, everyone? Debby Debby@swcp.com back in the saddle again.... ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 31 May 1999 21:49:39 +0500 Reply-To: mulders@mindspring.com Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Bob or Chris Mulder Subject: Dean on Life Goes On Comments: To: LoisandClarkNAOS@onelist.com MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-transfer-encoding: 7BIT Hi, FoLCs, I happened to notice that the PAX cable channel is once again airing Life Goes On. This past Saturday they showed part one of the Hawaiian trip story, which means that this coming Saturday (June 5th) they will show Dean's episode. If you haven't seen this yet, you owe it to yourself to check it out. There's a shot of Dean coming out of the surf to the tune of the theme from 2001, and then there's the dancing in the loin cloth and palm leaf headdress. I had part of this episode on tape to show at one of our local Fests, and it was a big hit, as you can imagine. I'm looking forward to getting the whole thing on tape this time. In my part of the world (Eastern U.S.) Life Goes On airs from 5-6 p.m. Check your local listings for times in your area. --Chris mailto:mulders@mindspring.com ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 31 May 1999 23:03:55 EDT Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: "Ann E. McBride" Subject: Re: NEW: MY JOURNAL - Day 1 (SPOILERS) MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit In a message dated 5/31/99 9:30:15 PM Eastern Daylight Time, Debby@SWCP.COM writes: << 'm sorry. This is my bugaboo. Mass transit *should* be 50 cents, then >maybe it would truly attract the masses. >> Here in Louisville, if you buy bus tickets from TARC (the transit company), they are 50 cents. You have to buy 10 of them at a time, but if you use the bus much, it is a bargain. I have no idea how much the bus is at peak times without tickets, because I don't often use it. I keep tickets around the house for my kids and their friends. Tickets for kids and senior citizens are 40 cents. You can get free transfers but only to a different route and only for a few hours. Of course, Louisville isn't exactly New York or LA. Ann