Lilac

Clark and guest star
Season 7
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Sequel to Lavender.
Screencap from Dynamic Duo.
"Mr. Kent."

"Yes, Professor?"

"Could you be so kind as to explain this paper to me, please?"

"Um... sir? It's my paper on the history of twentieth-century journalism."

"Is it really? Let me see here... Her flaxen hair flowed behind her, rippling in the breeze like the brightly colored banners that lined the castle wall..."

"Oh, crap."

"At the sight of her, he felt his body harden into granite..."

"Uh, sir, if you wouldn't mind, I'd rather you didn't read that in front of the whole class..."

"Why not? They seem to be appreciating it. It's not often one comes across a term paper that's so, shall we say, poetically written. He approached her with the stiff-legged stride of the alpha wolf, dominant, aggressive, hungry..."

"Professor. Please."

"Your face is turning an interesting shade of crimson, Mr. Kent. But your words are a rather peculiar shade of lilac."

"Um, yeah, I guess I printed the wrong thing out..."

"Ladies and gentlemen, it would appear we have a budding romance novelist in our midst."

"I really want to be a journalist, sir. This is just, well, a hobby."

"A hobby. I see. This is certainly a lot of pages of hobby."

"I guess I got a little carried away. But my term paper is pretty long, too. I swear."

"Well, then, perhaps you wish to exchange this for your term paper."

"Um, well, I think my term paper is back home, still on my computer..."

"Very well, then, Mr. Kent. I'll just keep reading. He swept her up into her arms, her bosom heaving, her lips parting on a shocked gasp..."

"Sir. I'm begging you."

"He carried her off into the woods, where he dropped her unceremoniously to the ground, capturing her silken bodice in his hands and ripping the flimsy fabric, releasing the glorious swells of her moon-pale breasts. He lowered his head and... oh, dear, there's the bell. What a terrible pity."

"Can I please have that back now??!"

"Of course, Mr. Kent, of course. Would you accept one tiny bit of advice from an old, worn-out journalist?"

"Grrr. I mean, yes sir."

"Frankly, Mr. Kent, I must say I find your nonfiction writing to be stronger than your romance writing. Probably because you don't veer into every conceivable shade of purple when you write an article or a term paper."

"Yes, sir. My girlfriend said something similar."

"Ah, the redoubtable Ms. Sullivan. You should listen to her, Mr. Kent. She knows whereof she speaks."

"Yes, she does. She pretty much told me flat-out this was crap."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. I do see glimmers of promise, if you're willing to go through it with a pair of pruning shears and excise the lilac verbiage. But honestly, I think your natural talent is for journalism."

"Thank you, sir. Coming from you, that means a lot."

"Here, kid. Take it home and either edit the hell out of it, or burn it. And bring me back your term paper this afternoon, or I'll flunk your ass."

"Thank you, Professor White."

"No problem, Clark. And outside of class... you can call me Perry."

-The End-

Read the sequel, Purple Heart, here.