Author: Mulitple
Rated: G/PG
Big Girls Don’t Fly: A Plot Un-Twist
by Paul-Gabriel Wiener <pgw@mit.edu>
Rated G
Submitted May, 2003
Author’s note: This is a response to the “plot un-twist” challenge posted on Zoomway’s message boards by Hazel. The idea is relatively simple: pick a moment from the show, preferably the teaser for one of the episodes, and change things so that the A-plot unravels in a hopefully humorous way.
When Clark walked into the “Ace O’Clubs” bar, he immediately noticed the display by the piano. There was a picture of Lois, and, underneath, a sign proclaiming “Tonight- Wanda Detroit!” So, it was true. Lois had lost her memory and taken on the personality of the main character of her novel. This could be tricky.
As he walked up to the bar, the bartender called out to him. “What can I offer you today?”
“Information.”
“The capital of Connecticut is Hartford,” was the surly reply.
“About Wanda Detroit,” clarified Clark. “Is she around now?”
“At Bibbo’s, our artists have a ‘no autograph’ policy.”
Perhaps it was time for a new tack. “I’m with the Daily Planet.”
“The food critic,” Bibbo said sarcastically. “At last.”
“I’m a reporter,” he said, just to set things straight. Clearly, his professional credentials weren’t going to help. “And a friend of Lo… Wanda Detroit’s. Maybe you could get a note to her.”
“All right. What’s your name?”
Clark stopped himself before giving his first name. “Wanda” wouldn’t react well to “Clark.” Instead, he said, “Kent.”
The door behind the bar opened slowly, cautiously. “You’re Kent?” asked a familiar, if oddly accented, voice.
“Yeah, Wanda. It’s me.”
“Oh, Kent!” She ran to him, then slowed, unsure.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
She nodded, still unsure of the situation.
Clark turned to the bartender and ordered two bottles of beer. As soon as the bottles were on the bar, he grabbed one, and, before anyone could react, hit “Wanda” over the head. The bartender was understandably upset by this, but Clark paid him no attention.
“Wha… What happened?”
“Lois?”
“Yes. Who are you?”
BONK!
“Wha…? Clark?”
“Yes! Lois?”
“Lois? Who’s Lois? I’m Ultra-”
BONK!
“What…? Ack! I’m late for my shift? Where’s that stupid chicken suit?”
BONK!
“All right, what happened?”
“Lois?” Clark asked, tentatively. Her gruff voice was not promising.
“What are you calling me Lois for? I’m Larry. Do I look like a Lois?” “Larry” gestured at “his” body for emphasis, but, in so doing, noticed some unexpected features. “What did you do to me? I’ve got-”
BONK!
“Oooo. My head hurts. What happened?”
“Lois?”
“Yeah?”
“Who am I?”
“Clark, what are you talking about? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Lois. What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Well, we were at the chapel, and I had to go sign the marriage licence… then, I’m not sure…. Where are we? What happened?”
“You’re back! Don’t worry, I’ll explain it all later. Right now, we should get out of here. Lex could arrive at any moment.”
“Lex? Who’s that?”
The bottle came up again, but Clark stopped himself just in time. “I’ll tell you later.” Clark tossed some cash at the bartender, grabbed the beer bottles (a souvenir, if nothing else), and headed outside with Lois.
They walked out through the front door, arm in arm, then quickly moved out of sight. Clark scooped her up in his arms and flew off.
Suddenly, his hearing picked up the sound of tires squealing behind the club. He didn’t care. He had Lois back. Concentrating on that thought, he completely missed the sound of gunshots mixed in with the squealing tires.
The next day, the tabloids were full of speculation about just what Lex Luthor had been doing in a dark alley behind a bar, who had shot him, and why. Lois and Clark, involved in catching up on memories and lost time, failed to notice. The case was never solved, nor was it ever linked to a string of pet shop robberies that moved slowly across the country. No one even noticed that the robberies happened to coincide with the movements of a transient nightclub singer who called herself “Wanda Chicago.” After all, what would she want with frogs?
The Green Green Glow of Home: A Plot Un-Twist
by Paul-Gabriel Wiener <pgw@mit.edu>
Rated G
Submitted May 2003
Author’s note: This is a response to the “plot un-twist” challenge posted on Zoomway’s message boards by Hazel. The idea is relatively simple: pick a moment from the show, preferably the teaser for one of the episodes, and change things so that the A-plot unravels in a hopefully humorous way.
It was a dark and stormy night. Well, most nights are dark, especially in rural areas, where you don’t have streetlights and house lights and things. This one was especially dark, though, because the storm clouds blocked the moonlight. On the other hand, there were flashes of lightning, so the storm did give some light back. Oh, and there were headlights, too. From a car.
The car was moving, as cars do (well, when there’s someone in them driving, anyway), down a road. This particular road led to the farmhouse of Jonathan and Martha Kent. Obviously, the road went other places, too, but none of those places were where the car was going. On this trip, in any case.
When the car reached the end of the Kents’ driveway, the man inside it turned it off and got out. He carried with him a metal toolbox. Fortunately for him, he was close to the Kents’ house, which was taller than he was and also had a lightning rod. He and the toolbox made their way to the front door, and then, not pausing to wipe his muddy feet on the doormat, he proceeded to knock.
The knock, unlike the headlights and the noise of an approaching vehicle, drew the attention of the aforementioned Jonathan Kent, who was, of course, inside the house.
Jonathan opened the door, noted the weather, the identity of the visitor, and the fact that he was carrying a toolbox. Immediately surmising the purpose of the visit, he called to his wife. “Martha, it’s Wayne Irig. Put on some coffee.” Then, turing back to Wayne, he said, “come on in.”
Wayne, who, as it happens, had not trudged out in the pouring rain with a metal toolbox to get a cup of coffee, shook his head. Then, to prove that he really didn’t want the coffee (and that he enjoyed standing outside during thunderstorms), he said, “better out here.”
Jonathan, at a loss for ways to be a proper host without coffee, grabbed his coat and stepped outside. “What brings you out on a night like this?”
“Not coffee,” thought Wayne, though he was kind enough not to say so. “You know that big oak tree I got out back,” he asked instead. “Well, Tuesday’s storm blew it right out of the ground.”
This bit of information made things much clearer for Jonathan. “Need some help chopping it up?”
Wayne, who did not, for some reason, feel like chopping up a downed tree in the middle of a thunderstorm, replied, “No, uh-uh.” Then, he lifted the toolbox, bringing it back to Jonathan’s attention. “I found something under that tree- a rock- and I don’t think it’s safe to keep around. I was going to send it out to a lab for testing, but I didn’t want to go to the trouble… the long distance calls, packing it up, mailing it out… and who knows what they would have done. Thought you might have an idea.” So saying, Wayne opened the toolbox. Inside was a glowing green rock.
“Wayne, when a rock is glowing green like that, it’s usually radioactive. I’d get rid of it. You can call the EPA.”
“And have them crawling all over my farm, digging everything up, maybe even throwing me out of my home? I don’t think so.”
“Well, then, put it in a lead box and bury it in some abandoned corner of your land. That’s pretty much what I did with Clark’s- uh, never mind.”
“Good idea, Jonathan. Thanks.”
“Sure, no problem. You want some coffee?”
Wayne felt like saying, “Jonathan, if you offer me coffee in the middle of the night one more time, there’s going to be a heat wave somewhere unpleasant,” but decided against it. After all, Jonathan was a friend, and besides, if he was to follow through, he’d end up behind steel bars. Instead, he thanked Jonathan again and drove off.
The next day, he found an old lead box, put the strange rock inside, and buried it out in that abandoned patch of land that had once belonged to Gene “Old Man” Shuster. No one ever saw it again.
What Do You Mean, “New Krypton”?? A Plot Un-Twist
by Paul-Gabriel Wiener <pgw@mit.edu>
Rated G
Submitted May, 2003
Author’s note: This is a response to the “plot un-twist” challenge posted on Zoomway’s message boards by Hazel. The idea is relatively simple: pick a moment from the show, preferably the teaser for one of the episodes, and change things so that the A-plot unravels in a hopefully humorous way.
“Clark, my name is Zara. This is Lieutenant Ching. On the day Krypton exploded, your father launched you into space. We had already been taken from the planet… part of an expedition in search of a more stable place to live.”
“How many of you were there?”
“A thousand or more, left homeless when the planet was destroyed.”
“The expedition colonized a barren rock of a planetoid, which was named ‘New Krypton.'”
“Wait a second. Jor-El sent me in his prototype ship, with an experimental interstellar drive. He had to use it because everyone else refused to believe him when he said the planet was going to explode. If a thousand people had believed him, there was no reason for him not to have gone along with them. Furthermore, since the drive was experimental, these supposed colonists would have had no way to move out of Krypton’s system. Even if they did have some way of moving out of the system in time, whyever would they have colonized a barren planetoid in a red sun system? Surely there were better planets to have chosen. Jor-El knew about Earth and yellow suns and super powers. Then there’s the fact that his message specifically told me I was the last of my kind. All that aside, if I’m as important as you say, there is absolutely no reason for you to have waited over twenty years to track me down. Put simply, your existence makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.”
“You know, Ching, he’s right.”
“Darn. I wanted to see more of Lois.”
“Hey! I thought you loved me!”
“Zara, we’re Kryptonians. We don’t-”
Still bickering, Zara, Ching, and the rest of the “New Kryptonians” faded away in a puff of continuity.
Lois and Clark got married and lived happily ever after.
The People Vs Lois Lane: A Plot Un-Twist
by Paul-Gabriel Wiener <pgw@mit.edu>
Rated G
Submitted May, 2003
Author’s note: This is a response to the “plot un-twist” challenge posted on Zoomway’s message boards by Hazel. The idea is relatively simple: pick a moment from the show, preferably the teaser for one of the episodes, and change things so that the A-plot unravels in a hopefully humorous way.
“Glad you made it,” said Elroy Sykes as Lois stepped into the clearing.
Lois turned to see him, and immediately noticed that he was holding a gun. “Hey, wait a minute, Sykes-”
“Relax, Lois,” he said, popping out the clip. “Not loaded, see? It’s for demonstration purposes only. Here, you take it.”
“No thanks. I don’t do guns.”
“What, afraid you’ll break a nail? You wanna know how Big Mo got offed, or don’t you?” Wanting to make sure that she had no choice, he tossed her the gun.
She caught it, purely by reflex, but, still not wanting to play the game, she immediately tossed it aside.
That was not part of the plan. How were they supposed to get proper blackmail material if she wasn’t holding the gun? “Hey! Pick that up! The demonstration isn’t going to work if you’re not holding the gun!”
Lois snorted and held up one hand. She curled three fingers in, leaving the thumb and the pointer sticking out, the traditional “hand gun” of children around the world. “I told you, Sykes. I don’t do guns.”
“But… but…” Sykes looked around wildly, obviously looking for some kind of co-conspirator.
Lois interpreted his floundering properly and, sharp-eyed, quickly spotted the man with the video camera. She strode over to him angrily. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re trying to set me up?”
Her shout drew the attention of her husband, who was relaxing across town. Half a second later, Superman was hovering over the scene. Quickly, he took in the details… an angry Lois, a man with a video camera and some kind of remote control device, a gun with a bullet in the chamber and some odd internal wiring, and a desperately confused man. He swooped down next to Lois and faced the man with the video camera. “Excuse me, but just what were you planning to do with that device?”
The man hastily put away the control and instead took out a miniature tape recorder. “Memo to self. Next time, come up with contingency plan.”
Lois raised an eyebrow.
“Memo to self. Do not underestimate Lois Lane.”
Superman glared.
“Memo to self. Do not underestimate Superman.”
“Hey!” exclaimed an agitated Sykes. “What are we supposed to do now?”
“Memo to self. Find more competent patsy.” Then, looking around, “memo to self. Stop recording memos in front of enemies.”
Superman, seeing this wasn’t going anywhere useful, brought them all to the nearest police station.
Professor Cole, based on evidence gathered from his tape recorder, was committed to an institution for the criminally insane.
Sykes’s parole was revoked, on the grounds that he had been associating with a known felon and had been involved in a criminal conspiracy.
Lois and Clark enjoyed two weeks of relative quiet (which, as newlyweds, they put to good use) before discovering that their new friend, Bob, was a supervillain named Deathstroke. These things happen.
Smart Kids: A Plot Un-Twist
by Paul-Gabriel Wiener <pgw@mit.edu>
Rated G
Submitted May, 2003
Author’s note: This is a response to the “plot un-twist” challenge posted on Zoomway’s message boards by Hazel. The idea is relatively simple: pick a moment from the show, preferably the teaser for one of the episodes, and change things so that the A-plot unravels in a hopefully humorous way.
The door to the infirmary clicked open. Dudley, Phillip, Karen, Aymee, and, last and quite likely least, Socrates crept inside.
The kids fanned out, each moving to take care of his or her planned objective. Socrates grunted, snorted, and then went to lie down. A pig by any other name is still not a philosopher.
The files were easily found, then copied, packed, or shredded, as appropriate. Aymee returned to the group, temporarily defeated by the security system.
And then, it happened. Dudley cracked the safe. Tubes of Mentamide 5 were quickly distributed, and the kids toasted their impending success.
Instantly, their intelligence was boosted to incredible levels.
“Main gate?” Phillip asked.
Aymee thought about it for a second, then grinned. “Consider it zapped!”
“Watch out, Metropolis,” Dudley crowed. “Here we come!”
Socrates burped, possibly in agreement.
“Wait a second,” Phillip said, suddenly. His enhanced mind was racing. “This isn’t going to work. If we just leave, we’ll just run out of the smart stuff, and they’ll catch us when we come back for more. We need to study it. Learn how to make it ourselves. Aymee, keep security tied up. Dudley, Karen, help me go through the files.”
The kids applied themselves to their new tasks. They soon learned how to synthesize Mentamide 5, but they also learned that there was a flaw in the formula.
Aymee split her attention between watching out for security, tracking down those responsible for experimenting on them, gathering evidence, and helping the other three as she could. Phillip, Dudley, and Karen applied themselves fully to fixing the “smart stuff” formula. Socrates sniffed thoughtfully at the floor and grunted.
The four kids stayed up far past their bedtime, but they managed to perfect the formula.
In the morning, they sent their evidence to a pair of reporters at the Daily Planet who had a reputation for honesty, solid investigative work, and willingness to listen to sources that others might ignore.
They also sent out a patent application for Mentamide 6.
That afternoon, Lex Luthor was arrested on multiple charges.
That evening, the Daily Planet had the exclusive.
Later that year, the smart kids became the youngest recipients ever of the Nobel Prize for Physiology and Medicine.
Soon, “smart stuff” was commercially available in large quantities.
The kids became very rich. Lex Luthor remained in jail. Socrates got a mud pit.
Those who bought “smart stuff” quickly realized the long-term advantages of global distribution. A fund was set up to ensure that “smart stuff” was made available to everyone.
Prejudices faded away in the new light of intelligence.
Criminals, faced with an army of hyper-intelligent police, soon gave up and turned away from crime.
Lex Luthor remained in prison.
People began recognizing Superman, even with the glasses, but they were too smart to ruin his life.
Clark Kent discovered that “smart stuff” had no effect on Kryptonian physiology. Not that he really needed it, anyway. He had plenty of advantages, including a flawless memory and a brain that could function at super-speed.
With prejudice fast melting away and other improvements being put in place, an end was put to all war.
The smart kids became the youngest recipients in history of the Nobel Peace Prize.
Socrates dined on truffles.
Criminals were released from prison. Lex Luthor became a free man, but lived a life of powerless obscurity.
With war abolished, all tanks were retired. Except for one which was modified by an innovative artist who increased the accuracy, redesigned the shells, and created a bold new way to get a really cool and amazingly fast haircut.
Global food distribution was reorganized, and an end put to hunger.
New inventions and scientific advancement also put an end to disease, boredom, and the need for manual labor.
With abundant resources available to all and no need to entice people to do the jobs no one wanted to do, money was abolished.
Socrates still got to eat truffles.
Clark Kent began using his powers publicly, but he was only needed for natural disasters, which were already decreasing in number. No one ever bothered or threatened his parents, wife, children (thanks to advancements in genetics), or family friends. Who would want to?
Lex remained… well, something or other. No one took the time to notice.
Humankind moved forward into a shining new golden age.
H. G. Wells, interdimensional traveller, discovered a utopia founded by children who were completely unrelated to Lois and Clark. He was confused, but shrugged. Utopia was Utopia. As long as people were happy, what did it matter? At least none of them was a slob named Joe.
Top Copy: A Plot Un-Twist
by Paul-Gabriel Wiener <pgw@mit.edu>
Rated G
Submitted May, 2003
Author’s note: This is a response to the “plot un-twist” challenge posted on Zoomway’s message boards by Hazel. The idea is relatively simple: pick a moment from the show, preferably the teaser for one of the episodes, and change things so that the A-plot unravels in a hopefully humorous way.
“The fax from Iberia should be here in a few minutes and then we can finally get out of here,” Clark said, putting the phone down. He turned back to his computer and the chess game he was playing with Lois. “Okay… Queen to King One. Your move.”
“I know,” she said softly, thoughtfully. “It’s been my move for a while.”
“What do you mean,” he asked, confused. “I just –”
“I mean the date thing.”
“Oh.”
Lois took a deep breath. “So. About the date thing…”
“Yes?”
“I know I’ve been kind of avoiding the subject lately…”
“Yes.”
” … but I’ve finally decided I think we should –”
Suddenly, Clark’s superhearing kicked in. “… fire at the Metropolitan Building, penthouse… can’t get a helicopter up there, winds are too strong…” It sounded serious. It sounded like a job for Superman.
Then, what Lois had been saying played back in his head. “I think we should go ahead and do it,” she’d said. “I mean, I know there’s a lot to lose, but we’re both adults, right? And it’s just a date, right?”
He tried to process that while still taking in the situation with the fire. The sprinklers should be coming on, shouldn’t they? Then, more cries for help started pouring in. A mugging across town. A robbery over on the east side. An accident on the highway…. He couldn’t possibly take care of everything. What was more important?
“Clark?”
The voice snapped his hearing back to the immediate surroundings. Obviously, Lois had noticed his inattentiveness. She’d been pouring her heart out to him… Her doubts, her fears, and her willingness to put them aside and give him a chance. The question came back to him. What was more important? It wasn’t really a difficult decision. “Sorry, Lois,” he said. “I thought I heard something outside. Never mind. It’s not important. You are. And you’re wrong.”
“What?”
“We are both adults, but I could never consider going out with you to be ‘just a date.’ You mean more to me than that. And there’s nothing to lose.”
“What about our friendship, Clark?”
“It means a lot to me, Lois. Too much to worry that a date could ruin it. I can’t imagine a bad date with you, Lois, but it’s even harder to imagine not being your friend.”
“But, what if-”
“Lois, I promise you. No matter what happens, you will never lose my friendship.”
“But-”
“I promise.” Seeing that she was about to object again, he added, “scout’s honor!” That broke the ice, but he could see she still had her doubts. “Pinky swear?” That did it. She burst out laughing, then offered her pinky. Still chuckling, they linked fingers and swore an unbreakable oath of friendship.
As Lois and Clark began making arrangements for their date, someone across town was having a hot time of her own…
“See the big red ‘S’ yet?” Diana Stride asked.
“No,” replied her assistant, Rolf. “There’s too much smoke.”
“Well, we’re just going to have to trust, then.”
“You have your charm?”
She reached into her blouse and pulled out her silver moon good luck charm. “I always have my charm,” she replied confidently. Then, she stepped up onto the ledge. Turning back to Rolf, she asked, “You’ll be all right up here?”
“As long as your plan works… and I know it will.”
“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Show time.” She extended her arms dramatically, and then Diana took a stride off the building. It was a small step that turned very quickly into a giant leap. A giant leap for which the fire crew below was completely unprepared. With Superman tied up with important matters elsewhere, Intergang’s top assassin could do nothing but fall, and fall, and then…
SPLAT!
“Note to Self… ” A Plot Un-Twist
by Paul-Gabriel Wiener <pgw@mit.edu>
Rated G
Submitted May, 2003
Author’s note: This is a response to the “plot un-twist” challenge posted on Zoomway’s message boards by Hazel. The idea is relatively simple: pick a moment from the show, preferably the teaser for one of the episodes, and change things so that the A-plot unravels in a hopefully humorous way.
Dear Mr Wells,
Congratulations on your invention of a time machine! I know you’re really quite excited to be taking it on your first trip through time, but, before you go, there are a few things I’d like to tell you.
First, when you arrive at your first stop in the future- lovely place, by the way, though I’ll try not to ruin the surprise any more than that- do not take anyone back with you. In particular, there’s a man named Tempus. I’ve enclosed his picture. Try to avoid him at all costs. He’s a villain of the vilest sort.
Secondly, I’ve also enclosed an extra bag of gold. Always keep one handy, just in case. With that in mind, I’ve also attached a listing of convenient times and locations where you can find gold. Just try not to take too much from any one place. You wouldn’t want to accidentally prevent the California gold rush.
Next, I’ve a little errand for you. If you find the time- pardon me, I couldn’t resist- do nip back to the following coordinates, will you? A brutish warlord named Baron Tempos is going to have his wizard put a curse on some rather exceptional friends. It would be easier if you took the time machine, rather than the soul tracer (which I realize you haven’t invented yet, in any case). You’ll probably want some help, though. Take Lois and Clark with you. You haven’t met them yet, but you’ll know who I mean soon enough.
While you’re at it, you may also wish to come to the aid of the Lone Rider. I’ve attached some historical references.
Finally, be careful not to leave this note where it can be found by anyone but you. The information herein might, in the wrong hands, have devastating consequences for the future.
Well, I won’t delay you any longer. Have a pleasant journey. I’m off to give an old friend some timely proof that her billionaire boyfriend is a murdering sociopath.
Sincerely,
H. G. Wells
P.S. Before you leave, make sure to move everything off the left side of the third shelf of the tool cabinet. Trust me.
Clark’s Idea: A Plot Untwist Challenge Vignette
Episode: Faster Than A Speeding Vixen
By Saskia <saskiakooistra333@hotmail.com>
Rated: PG
*****
“Where did that come from?” Lois asked Clark, content.
“Look at you, Ms. Innocent. You attacked me. That’s where that came from.”
A giggle escaped Lois’s mouth. She remembered that and didn’t regret it one bit. Actually, she felt like doing it again.
“Clark?”
“Yes, dear?”
“How about we go back to bed and practice some more of this?”
“Hmm, that sounds appealing. But shouldn’t we get ready for work?”
“Right. But I feel like playing hooky today. We’re having much more fun in the house, together. I’ll call Perry and say we’re ‘working’ at home today. I’m sure he won’t mind, as long as I promise him a scoop.”
“You and I playing hooky, honey? I’m glad I’m here to see that happening. Go ahead and call Perry. And be sure to tell him to be careful of Lex Luthor or other men with the same initials today.”
“What’s that you’re saying?”
“Yeah, there are lots of people watching and following our lives, they’ve been doing it every day for years now. And if I really concentrate, I can hear them scream. They’re warning us about Lex and his son, it seems. So, go call Perry, warn him and I’ll see you upstairs in a minute.”
The End
A Sailor Thing
By Cyad (cyad9@yahoo.com)
Rated: PG 13 (?)
Submitted: May 2003
Description: This fanfic is a response to Hazel’s Plot Untwist challenge. All explanations you’ll find here (http://www.zoomway.net/cgi-bin/boards/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic;f=14;t=001838;p=)
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. I just borrowed them for a short while. Good or bad, feedback’s always welcome so, don’t hesitate, email me!
Reminder: this PU of the Pilot was just written for the fun so it might lack a certain degree of…literature!
< > denotes character’s inner thoughts
***
Clark stepped aside the bus as it finally came to a stop. Two minutes in Metropolis and he’d almost blown out his cover, his hand print as obvious on the bus’ front as would a Mercedes Benz sign.
Dropping his old leather suitcase on the pavement while staring at the Daily Planet Building, he quickly picked it up again, crossed the street and took a deep breath as he briskly made his way through the entrance doors and to the elevator. Entering it, he pressed the up floor button and closed his eyes, trying to relax as the wooden panel doors started to close.
“Hold the lift!” a feminine voice shouted.
Suddenly flushing his eyes open, he’d only had time to extend a hand as a bearded sailor tripped on his suitcase, heavily landing into his arms. Tightening his grip in order to prevent them from falling, Clark couldn’t help but register the curvy and definitely unmanly shape of the body pressed against him.
“Thanks,” the melodious voice went on while a floral scent surreptitiously titillated his nostrils.
***
Lois spotted the monogrammed suitcase too late.
<C.K, huh… some Citygirl Killer device this suitcase! I’m sure it was already old fashioned in granny’s time>, she thought, mentally cursing the object.
She was in a rush, as always when a scoop was involved. She’d just gone on another undercover investigation, bringing back her best story ever. She couldn’t wait to write it down and have it on the next edition’s front page… but she hadn’t much time left to fulfill her goal.
She didn’t even recall how she ended up with two strong arms securely wrapped around her waist, but she couldn’t help leaning, longer than she normally would have, on the stranger’s broad chest. Standing up and straitening her ragged clothes, she suddenly found herself dangerously attracted to two dark chocolate eyes, cheerfully darting at her.
***
“I’m Clark Kent from Smallville, Kansas. Miss…?”
As she stubbornly remained silent, he maliciously pursued:
“You’re not Popeye the sailor nor a girl from West Virginia, that’s for sure!”
<That’s it!> Lois fumed. Twenty seconds with this guy and he’d already pushed her way past Mad Dog Lane mode.
“Well, you may be Clark Kent, but as far as Kansas is concerned, try again!”
“What are you talking about?” Clark tried, suddenly unease.
“Really impressive, that bus thing you did,” she matter-of-factly pointed.
“Look…”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got better things to do than reporting on your exploits for Wrestling & Muscles,” Lois cut him as the elevator came to a halt and its doors chimed open, revealing the Daily Planet’s newsroom. Rushing out, she concluded, “ See you ‘around”.
“I’m counting on it,” Clark whispered to himself, suddenly looking eagerly forward to his job interview with Perry White.
THE END
Closer Contact: A Plot Untwist Challenge Story
Episode: Contact
By LabRat <labrat@blueyonder.co.uk>
Rated: PG
Submitted: April 2003
Author’s note: Hazel’s challenge on Zoomway’s mbs was to produce a short story, the point of which was to ‘untwist’ the plot, so that the episode would never have happened.
Lois turned to the superhero, triumph sparkling in her eyes as he turned away from trussing up the airport baggage thieves. He grinned at her.
“Wait right here. I’ve gotta drop them off at the police, then I’ll see you home.”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to do that.”
Superman frowned. He folded his arms. It was obvious that he was about to embark on round one hundred and one in a very ongoing and old argument. “Lois…” he said, tone chiding.
Lois raised a brow and folded her arms right back. “Superman…” she intoned sharp mimicry of his tone.
He sighed. “Lois, I’d feel better if you’d wait for me. It’s going to be dark soon.”
The look she threw him was slightly weary in response. “Clark,” she murmured as though pointing out the obvious to a child. “I’ve driven home alone for as long as you’ve known me. And like two million times before that. I’ll be fine.”
Superman glanced across his shoulder and frowned at the thieves who were paying too much attention to the conversation. Then he moved a couple of steps closer, ducking his head. “Well, yeah…I know that,” he said under his breath. “But…well, I thought, maybe, you know, if I came *with* you…” One finger ran a somewhat plaintive path up her arm. “…maybe you could…run out of gas. Maybe up near Pointers’ Wood? And then, *maybe* we could do some…you know…canoodling…till the garage came out with more…”
Lois blinked. Her aggressive stance was abandoned as her eyes widened. “Pointers’ Wood? Why Superman!” she purred breathlessly in a scandalized little girl voice as her upper body swayed nearer to his. “You wouldn’t be suggesting the Man of Steel might like to spend some time necking up in that student hormone acceleration area, would you?” She had moved a little closer herself now and he was all too acutely aware of the fact that barely a sliver of air remained between them.
He shrugged. “It’s Wednesday. It’ll be quiet,” he said in a voice that feigned nonchalance. “I’ll buy you a steak dinner at Nino’s on the way,” he added casual bribery.
His eyes though held hers and there was nothing casual in the warm heat that sparked between them as they locked gazes. As the message held there danced between them, both of them grinned.
“Steak dinner, huh?” She dropped her gaze, teeth taking hold of her bottom lip. Hidden from the thieves by his body, her finger did a slow and lazy walk up his chest, tracing the shield upon it. “Well, how could a girl refuse that kind of offer?”
His grin widened. Then Lois coughed, clearing her throat as she backed off a few inches, with a quick glance across his shoulder. “Why don’t I…” She began to move away from him casually. “….go start up the Jeep…”
Superman nodded vigorously. “I’ll go…” He hitched a thumb behind him. “…get rid of these guys and – ”
“Meet you out front!” they both blurted in unison.
They ran for it. Lois giggling as she sprinted for the airport exit, Superman breaking speed records previously set by any superhero as he bundled up his charges and raced for the police precinct.
The End.
Super…Bamm!: A Plot Untwist Challenge Vignette
Episode: Super Mann
By LabRat <labrat@blueyonder.co.uk>
Rated: PG
Submitted: April 2003
Author’s note: Hazel’s challenge on Zoomway’s mbs was to produce a short story, the point of which was to ‘untwist’ the plot, so that the episode would never have happened.
It was silent in the long-abandoned coal mine. Save for the distant hum of long-forgotten machinery still endlessly rotating in the darkness.
In the center of the room, where three long, rectangular boxes lay with the dust of decades still on them, analog clocks suddenly clicked on over to a new date. A new era.
May 7, 1993.
A new dawn. The new and glorious dawn that those who had built this chamber had never seen and had known they never would see as they toiled. Yet their eyes, as they had lowered the stiff, cold bodies into their metal coffins, had been full of the vision of a new age. A future age in which these conquerors would bring enlightenment.
A change came over the machinery, its humming beginning a slow rise in pitch, increasing its fluctuation…as it carefully brought the sleepers awake and into their kingdom. The kingdom that had been promised to them and which they had waited on, slumbering out their dreams of dominion, all these years.
Clouds of nitrogen billowed out into the stagnant air as the lids of the coffins were thrown aside. The occupants who emerged were perfect specimens. Young and strong. Pure and athletic. And, despite their decades of sleep in the wombs of the machines, vitally alive.
As they stood, blinking and adjusting to the sudden beat of blood in their veins, memory and purpose returning to them out of the mists they had been bound in for so long, their eyes fell on the gold Nazi eagle on its pedestal in the corner. The red and black swastika clutched in its claws fluttered in the sudden rush of fresh air piped into the chamber…as though in welcome.
As though in triumph.
*******
They emerged slowly onto the street, shielding eyes weakened by decades of darkness from the onslaught of the sun. The woman inhaled deeply, taking pleasure in the freshness of the air. Her two male companions looked around themselves at the bustling Metropolis surrounding them, their expressions showing soft wonder.
“We made it,” Lisa said. Her voice still had a faint accent to it and she frowned, knowing she would have to work on that. But, for now, nothing could disturb her pleasure. And her relief. They had made it. She grinned at her companions.
Across the street, a hum of machinery startled them. But it was only a crane lifting a large billboard high into the air. On its surface was a brightly colored advertisement for something called The Daily Planet. A newspaper? She made a mental note to check it out later as she relaxed from her momentary fright.
The taller of the two men had spotted a newspaper dispenser across the street. He made for it, his companions following. He studied the headlines through the glass cover.
“Democrats and Republicans Deadlocked over Budget.”
“Congress votes new pay raise.”
They met each other’s stricken gazes.
“We lost,” Lisa whispered finally.
“And America won.” Hank sounded as stunned as she did. This was surely impossible. Impossible!
“But we will correct that,” Steve said quickly, before the enormity of this shock could sink deep into them, demoralize them. “Nothing can stop *us*.”
Lisa nodded slowly, then brought up her head sharply at another commotion across the street. A woman screamed. Lisa saw immediately what was happening. The rope holding the billboard aloft had begun to fray. Even as she watched, another strand snapped clear and the billboard juddered. The crowd of pedestrians in the area quickly scattered, but one little girl, dragged hastily clear by an older woman who was probably the child’s grandmother, dropped the small bear she was carrying directly beneath the swaying board.
Before the grandmother could react, the child had jerked her hand free of the woman’s grip and run back to fetch her beloved toy, heedless of the danger. The babble of consternation in the crowd increased as they saw the small, coming tragedy play out before them. There was another scream. Lisa watched without interest and began to turn away. She had more important things to consider.
“Let’s find out – ”
Sudden cheers whipped her back around. Her eyes widened. As the rope finally snapped completely and the billboard crashed to the ground, a blur of color whipped past and then the little girl was safely deposited next to her weeping grandmother. Lisa blinked, sure she hadn’t seen what she had.
Who…?
What was…?
“Gott in Himmel,” Steve breathed beside her. “Ein Super Mann.”
“Speak English,” she heard Hank hiss. But she was already moving as though in a daze to cross the street and stand beside the fallen billboard. She sensed the others crowding at her back as she put out a shaking hand to the wooden board.
A whoosh of air caught their attention and they craned their necks to watch as the little girl’s savior streaked up into the sky and disappeared.
“A super man.” Steve sounded dazed.
Lisa and Hank looked around, slightly alarmed, at the crowd, who were smiling as they calmly went back to their interrupted business. Obviously this incident was nothing new to them – or unusual. Lisa blanched.
“What if there are more like him in America?” Hank whispered. He was pale too.
Steve shook his head and when he spoke they looked at him, his words resonating a new purpose in them. A new truth.
“Then,” he said, grimly determined. “That is just one more obstacle we must overcome.”
Lisa glanced at Hank. He met her gaze steadily and she nodded. Yes. They would overcome this…super mann…just as they would everything else to achieve their promised birthright.
“No one,” she agreed. “And nothing. We *will* prevail here. And this super mann will die!”
As one, they turned to stare up into the sky and the point where the mysterious man had vanished, Lisa’s vehement declaration ringing in their ears like a call to arms, with its tantalizing promise of victory so close they could almost taste it.
What could stand in their way? They were invincible. The masters here.
Unfortunately, none of them noticed that the billboard, which had fallen to land only on one corner, had – unlike their resolve – begun to waver. They probably didn’t even know what hit them as it teetered, swayed, and then toppled to land squarely on top of them with a crash that echoed the length of the street.
The End.
Virginally Destroyed
By Barb <megats1776@yahoo.com>
“*I’m* a little different,” Clark said hesitantly.
“Sure,” Lois said, looking up at him and encouraging him to go on.
He took another deep breath and began. “I mean. I’ve had girlfriends. I’ve dated.”
She nodded, her full attention on him.
“But *that* thing…” Clark said apprehensively. “…The intimacy threshold…the *big* threshold…” he said with a nervous chuckle. He sighed, looked down and then looked back at Lois. “I’ve never really…crossed it.”
“Clark Jerome Kent!!!!” Lois yelled and grabbing his arm, pulled him across the street into the Luxor hotel.
As they entered the hotel lobby, they discovered that they were in Lois’ apartment.
“We’re still in Virtual Reality,” they both said together.
Suddenly Jaxon Xavier appeared. Clark and Lois both grabbed him and as they did, they touched his watch and all three were hurtled back into the real world.
“You little nerd!” Lois shouted and pushed him back into a corner. “I would do something more drastic, but I’ve got some personal business to take care of. Let’s go Clark!”
Ten minutes later, once they had arrived in Clark’s apartment, Clark took Lois in his arms.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.
“Shut up, Clark. I’m a woman on a mission,” she said, as she pulled him toward the bed.
the end.
I Now Pronounce You…: A Plot Un-Twist
By Anna E. Belcher
Rated: G
This started out as a simple response to the challenge issued by Hazel on Zoom’s mbs. It’s still a response to the challenge, but it sort of ran away with itself and now it’s not so simple, but I hope you find it amusing. A big thanks to those who helped me brainstorm some pretty hilarious stuff in IRC, and to Jana and Carol who BRed this for me.
Actually, Carol doesn’t deserve a thank you for BRing this for me. She deserves the party to end all thank you parties thrown in her honor. She actually did more research for this fic than I did. Her suggestions, brainstorming, and overall efforts were infinitely helpful. Thanks a million, Carol!!
* * * * *
“Miss Lane? I need you to sign the wedding license. It’ll just take a minute.” The tall-but imbecilic-man laughed to himself as he set his evil-but ingenious-plan into motion.
Lois Crazier-Than-Normal-Because-It’s-Her-Wedding-Day Lane sighed and looked at Clark Stronger-With-Lois-Than-Alone-Even-Though-He’s-Superman Kent, expecting him to come with her to follow the strange-but friendly-gentleman, whom they had never seen before, but whom obviously knew everything there was to know about who had to sign a marriage license and when.
“I already signed.” Clark replied to Lois’ expectant-but adorable-look.
“Teacher’s Pet,” she antagonistically-but good-naturedly-teased.
Lois turned to follow the nice gray-haired man with the impeccable marriage license knowledge, when Ellen Now-We-Know-Where-Lois-Got-Her-Craziness Lane put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.
“Lois, you don’t have time for that now! The ceremony is supposed to start in less than 30 minutes, the guests have already started to arrive, and you’re not even dressed yet!”
Sam The-Other-Half-Of-Where-Lois-Got-her-Craziness Lane, for once, agreed with his wife. “She’s right, princess. You’ve got to get ready.”
Lois looked at her parents, then at her watch. “Oh my gosh! You’re right!” A sudden panic washed over her, which was surprising because she was already fairly panic-y.
Martha Ever-The-Voice-Of-Reason Kent spoke up. “Lois, honey, why don’t you go get dressed? And Clark, why don’t you go get the marriage license and bring it to the dressing room? Ellen and Cindy and I will help Lois, and Jonathan and Sam and Perry and Jimmy can stall the guests if need be.”
“Good idea, Martha.” Jonathan I-Don’t-Usually-Get-Martha’s-Subtle-Hints Kent chimed in. Jonathan and Sam headed for the church entrance to greet any extra punctual guests, while Perry Ordained-By-The-Church-Of-Blue-Suede-Deliverance White and Jimmy So-Excited-To-Be-Clark’s-Best-Man-He-Barely-Put-His-Shoes-On-The-Right-Feet Olsen moved to the front of the sanctuary.
Marriage-License-Know-It-All-Guy furrowed his brow when the bride’s friends and family members all agreed to the mother of the bride’s plans. No! This is all wrong! It wasn’t supposed to happen this way! He was supposed to take Lois into the basement of the church and then drug her and kidnap her and take her away to the Swiss Alps to live happily ever after with him, leaving Clark with the frog-eating clone and a serious-but amusing-case of double jeopardy.
“But-” He tried to speak up, but no one was listening and the seconds ticked by. Clark was already pulling him along asking him to lead the way to the marriage license.
Oh! What was he supposed to do now?
* * * * *
Clark followed the man into the foyer and then almost ran over him when the he suddenly-but thoughtfully-stopped in his tracks next to an arrangement of forget-me-nots. The man looked around and scratched his head, seemingly not knowing where he was going. Clark puzzled over this for a moment before deciding to spur the man along.
“Uh, did you forget where to go?”
“What?” Lex said with his disguised voice. “Oh! No. I, uh, uh, it’s this way.” He pointed toward the basement door. He’d just have to drug and tie up Kent before getting to Lois. No problem, he told himself. Everything is still going to work out. Stay calm. Don’t panic.
He panicked.
As soon as the door to the basement was closed, he swung around and landed his fist square into Clark’s nose. Clark’s nose was made of steel, of course, so the naïve-but deranged-man broke two of his fingers on impact.
When the punch landed on Clark’s steel-but mind-bogglingly sexy-nose, he swiftly reached up and grabbed the impulsive-but now injured-man by the wrist.
“Who are you?” He demanded to know.
“Me? Who the hell are you?” The man snapped back. “*What* the hell are you?”
Clark was fuming. “I’m a very impatient man waiting for an answer from a guy who just tried to deck me! Now, who *are* you?” Clark squeezed the man’s wrist a little harder and then, suddenly, he had a stroke of somewhat delayed-but still super-hero-ish-genius.
Lowering his glasses with his free hand, Clark let his eyes peel back the layers of the villain’s skin.
“Luthor!” Clark ripped off the flimsy-but convincing-mask. “You rotten, low life, no good, scum-sucking, wedding-destroying cretin! I should have known you’d try to ruin this day for us. You’re going back to prison where you belong.”
Luthor rolled his eyes. Kent could be so dramatic.
But he probably had a point. Luthor had been caught because he had panicked and now he would be going back to jail. His life was truly a tragic-but exciting-tale, equaled only by Oedipus Rex. Oh well. One good thing about prison was all of the free time he would have to devise a new-but much more brilliant and devious-plan for getting rid of Kent and Superman, and for making Lois love him.
* * * * *
Clark stood at the altar, looking down the vast-but intriguing-aisle toward the doorway where Lois would soon enter. Perry was behind him, Jimmy was beside him, his friends and family were seated in front of him, and Lois would soon be walking toward him. He wouldn’t have had it any other way.
His thoughts drifted to the events of earlier in the bizarre-but surprisingly unsurprising-day.
What had Luthor been thinking? Did he really think he could just snatch Lois with some asinine ploy like ‘I need you to sign the marriage license’? Did he think *Superman* wouldn’t notice she was gone?! How dumb did Luthor think he was? Unless he thought he could trick everyone into thinking Lois wasn’t missing until he could get her out of the city… leave behind one of those clones, maybe?
Clark could barely contain his laughter at the absurd thoughts his mind was taking him through. He really had been under too much stress lately. Lois entered the sanctuary, and Clark shook the abstruse-but preposterous-thoughts out of his head.
The End
Ultra Squirrel: A Plot Un-Twist Challenge Vignette
by: Anne Spear <raggedyanne7@yahoo.com>
Rated: G
Submitted: July 2003
Lois arrived at the scene of the rescue and made her way through a crowd of spectators, including firemen and police. Superman had already flown into the well
and returned with a baby, crying for all he was worth. She rushed over to the Man of Steel. “Superman, is he all right?” she asked him.
“Fine,” he answered, turning the “baby” to show Lois that it was really a doll with a tape recorder strapped to its torso. “But his batteries are a little run down.”
“Oh, that is the sickest, most disgusting – ”
Suddenly, Superman yelled, “Get down,” and jumped in front of Lois, holding the doll up. A red beam hit Superman’s hands and was deflected by the tape
recorder into the woods surrounding the well. His gaze followed the red beam back to its source and saw two women made up to look like a reporter and
cameraperson. However, the red beam was coming from the camera. As he watched, the camera shorted out with a shower of white sparks, causing the woman
holding it to drop it with a shriek. Superman turned back to face Lois and the crowd to make sure no one was hurt. “Are you all right?” he asked Lois.
“Fine. What was that?”
“Somebody tried to shoot us with a red beam. Are you sure you didn’t get hit?”
“Yes, I’m okay. Go get ’em.”
With that, Superman took to the air and returned a few minutes later with the two women in tow. He landed and turned the sisters over to a pair of police
officers. Still holding the camera/laser, he scooped Lois up and headed directly to Star Labs to have the red kryptonite locked up for safekeeping.
~*~*~*~
Two days later, the ‘National Inquisitor’ reported that a squirrel in Metropolis Park was terrorizing people and stealing bags of nuts. There were also a
number of small trees knocked over that no one could explain.