Lois and Clark Drastic Measures

Note to those who don't watch a lot of U.S. TV: Teri's been   
playing her ditsy act to the fullest in a recent series of   
Radio Shack commercials. I'm not a big fan of those, to put   
it mildly, and finally decided that if I had to sit through   
one more of those things, I was going to have to start   
resorting to drastic measures. Well, one more came and went,   
so voila...  
  
________________  
  
  
"Don't even start," Lois warned. Or more accurately, growled.  
  
She had to admit, after watching that anthology of mercifully   
un-aired commercials, her husband had plenty to start about.   
At the time, she'd thought the story had been more than worth   
it, but at the seventeenth cringe into the video, she'd   
seriously began to wonder whether anything was worth that   
humiliating performance. Her ditsy brunette act wasn't always   
that bad, was it?  
  
"Well..." Clark said cautiously, clearly trying to weigh what   
would be crossing over into the dangerous territory of   
"starting".  
  
"I'm warning you, Clark..." Lois began.  
  
"It's just you-" he tried again.  
  
"I don't want to hear it."  
  
"It's just you look good in bright colors," he finally blurted   
out.  
  
"I look good in bright colors," Lois repeated dully.  
  
"Yeah, you do," he said with the relieved of air of someone   
discovering the bomb they'd approached so carefully hadn't   
been armed after all. "Of course, this looks great on you   
too," he added, reaching across the couch to brush her   
business suit of the day. Sometime during the display from   
their TV, she'd unconsciously inched away from him to   
literally hide in a corner. "But bright, oh, purple would be   
okay for a change."  
  
Bright purple. Sure. As if he actually expected her to walk   
into work wearing bright purple.  
  
But then, for all she knew, the Suit's colors had been his   
idea, so maybe he really didn't see any problem with Day-glo   
clothing. She'd have to ask him about that sometime.  
  
Anyway, at the moment, he was obviously trying to distract her   
from the problem at hand. Yes, she'd told him she didn't want   
to hear it, but now she was curious.  
  
"You're hiding something, Clark," she accused. "Okay, come on,   
let's hear it."  
  
"I'm not hiding anything," he protested feebly.  
  
"Oh, you are. You really need to learn how to lie."  
  
As he opened his mouth for another denial, she added, "And   
don't say it's not that important. I want to hear it anyway."  
  
He snapped his jaws shut and seemed to find himself trapped by   
that. Finally, he admitted, "It wasn't that bad, really, but,   
uh, I don't think that that last 'Bzzz,' was exactly   
necessary."  
  
Seeing Lois's reaction to that, Clark suddenly looked   
horrified and cut off any further remarks, but the damage had   
already been done. Burying her face in Clark's shoulder, she   
moaned, "Oh, I knew it. You're embarrassed for me. Of course   
you are. Why wouldn't you be? I put on my   
  
cute little perky voice and let him chase me with toy cars,   
and I flirted and..and...I was a cup holder! Clark, I let him   
treat me as a human cup holder! Of course I embarrass you!"  
  
Clark gently raised Lois's chin until her eyes met his.   
"Lois," he said gravely, "you could never, and will never   
embarrass me. It's impossible. Got that?"  
  
Incapable of arguing with that breathtaking declaration, but   
still not ready to give up her melancholy mood, she only   
nodded forlornly and demanded, "Then you tell me. Why in the   
world am I so good at playing the dumb airhead?"  
  
"Oh, you're not." Clark said airily. "What made you think you   
were?"  
  
Lois laughed and pummeled Clark with the nearest pillow.   
"Funny, mister. You happen to be speaking to the woman who got   
what's-his-name's confession on tape. He sure wasn't going to   
brag about his ingenious scamming feats to anybody with a   
brain. Much as I hate to admit it, I'd say I've got the   
airhead thing down to a fine art."  
  
"Then all I've got to say is you're a great actress," Clark   
said.  
  
"Wonderful," Lois said with a laugh. "Where do I go pick up my   
Oscar?"  
  
"No, I mean it," Clark insisted. "You really are the most   
brilliant person I've met. What's-his-name never stood a   
chance."  
  
Lois leaned in to kiss him lightly as a wordless thank you but   
then abruptly pulled away. "Now don't you kiss me back,   
because I'll get distracted, and I've got an important task to   
finish up."  
  
"Oh, do you?"  
  
"I do," she said, rising to walk across the room. Taking the   
tape from the VCR, she announced, "The only evidence ever to   
exist of my performance is right here, and it's going to stay   
that way. And don't you help it along. I want to do the honors   
on this one."  
  
With that, she tossed the tape into the fire with more force   
than was absolutely necessary and then went back to snuggle   
into Clark's arms. "And that's it for the Brainless Wonder,"   
she sighed comfortably.  
  
"Oh, that's too bad," Clark murmured. "You really did look   
good in bright purple. And the blue. I really liked the blue."  
  
Lois put the nearest pillow to good use again. "Yeah, that's   
it," she deadpanned. "I'll get Martha to give me some of the   
blue from your suit. We'll be a matching set."  
  
At some point in the evening, that poor tape was melted well   
past recognition, Lois and Clark never noticed. They'd found   
more interesting things to occupy themselves.  
  



End file.

Lois and Clark, Humor