MBrittan
07-05-2008, 03:22 PM
I didn't write this. I just stumbled upon it by accident. I thought it was mildly pretty entertaining...
[B]BART and CLARK (a missing scene from "RUN")[/
Rated G
By Kryptomaniac (who loved the episode RUN and wanted to expanded it. This scene takes place right after Bart dares Clark to take a trip. What if Clark DID go?)
CHAPTER 1
Clark was amazed! It took all his concentration to follow the red and yellow figure in front of him. He found himself pushing his speed to his limits and, still, he felt like Bart Allen was holding back just so Clark could keep up with him.
Highway signs came and went but Clark dare not take his eyes off Bart. “Welcome to the Sunshine State,” said a voice out of nowhere. The voice was followed by boyish laughter.
“Better stop, Clark!” yelled Bart and Clark shut down just in time to keep from running straight into the Atlantic Ocean.
A huge wave of sand burst from the beach and when it settled, Clark’s mouth dropped open in awe. In a matter of seconds, he had traveled from his home in Smallville, Kansas, to a beach in Florida. Gentle waves lapped at his shoes and a warm, moist tropical breeze caressed his face. What was that taste? Clark licked his lips: it was salt! He took in a deep breath. “Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all“, thought Clark.
“Clark! Get a grip, dude.” Bart was enjoying this. “Don’t embarrass me!” While he had been to Florida a hundred times, it was clear to him that Clark had not. “This is going to be fun“, thought Bart, “Clark’s like a babe in the woods“.
Clark turned and saw the look on Bart’s face. It was that smile where just the corner of his mouth was upturned in a half-smirk. It reminded him of a smile Chloe might flash just before she asked him to break into the secret files at the FBI.
“Uh, oh,” Clark said, aloud this time, “maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all.”
CHAPTER 2
Bart laughed. “Clark, I swear, you are so uptight at times! You sound like your dad.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” replied Clark. “But, you need to know this about me…” Before Clark could answer he was distracted by yelling.
“Hey! Hey you guys! Yeah, you! FARMBOYS!,” shouted multiple female voices at once. “We could use a little help over here!”
Bart and Clark looked up to see a pickup load of swimsuit-clad girls yelling and waving at them. The truck was stuck up to axles in the beach sand. Clark looked up and down the beach and saw an endless line of vehicles driving in both directions.; it looked a little like Main Street in Smallville on cruise night.. The pickup with the girls, however, had strayed off the hard-packed sand and become hopelessly stuck. “Is this Miami Beach?” asked Clark.
“Nope,” replied Bart. ”This is Daytona Beach. Miami is a couple of seconds south of here.. Man, this just keeps getting better and better. Come on, Stretch, time for two superstuds to flash their stuff!”
“If you keep calling me ‘Stretch’”, retaliated Clark, “I’m going to start calling you ‘FLASH’.”
“Like that’s original,” teased Bart. He and Clark walked over to the pickup. “Girls, this is your lucky day. No tow truck needed. I am the human shovel. I can dig you out of the sand so fast your bikini strings will pop.” The girls giggled and laughed and Bart heard many “Isn‘t he cute?’ whispers.
But when Clark walked up, the pickup load of girls went silent. Clark had removed his flannel shirt and tied it around his waist. He spent a few seconds flexing his arms and soaking up the rays of the yellow Florida sun. Clark was feeling suddenly super-charged and carefree, especially after he saw the look on the girls’ faces.
“Man, they’re looking at Clark like he was a snow cone,” thought Bart. “Babe in the woods? Forget it. He’s a Babe-Magnet instead!”
“This is going to get good,” Bart said aloud and grinned at Clark. “These girls are checking you out like you are ONE OF A KIND! Don’t blow it for us.”
“Then stand aside, Flash,” warned Clark as he stepped up to the tailgate of the pickup. He smiled broadly at the passengers, all of whom had begun to giggle and laugh and fake faints and swoons. “Hang on girls,” he said in his most-manly voice, more as a distraction than a real warning. He tapped the rear bumper lightly; the pickup’s wheels stopped spinning and it lurched forward and continued down the beach, rejoining the parade of cars. The girls waved excitedly and yelled several “thank you’s” at the two boys.
“You’re welcome!” Bart yelled back. “See you later! My place! Top floor of the Hyatt! Presidential Suite! Come check out the pool! You don‘t want to miss it!” He waved and yelled at the girls until they disappeared down the beach.
“You are totally without modesty, do you know that?: said Clark, deadpan.
“Modesty? What’s that?” As if on cue, Bart’s body blurred for a second as he switched from his red and yellow jogging outfit into a pair of red swim trunks. “Come on Clark. Flannel and jeans and manure-scented workboots just don’t cut it at Daytona. Strip down to your boxers. They can pass as trunks for the afternoon.”
“Oh no they won’t.”
“What? Don’t gross me out, Stretch. Tell me you wear SOMETHING.”
“Very funny,” joked Clark. “Actually, if you don’t want to be embarrassed, you won’t make me change. My boxers were kind of a gag gift from a friend. They have the Power-Puff Girls on them.”
Bart doubled over with laughter. Okay, good excuse. No way he could get Clark to change now, or could he? Bart’s body blurred for a second and then he handed Clark a pair of red swim trunks; the price tag was still on them. “Don’t worry, Clark, I left some money on the cash register at the store.” He pointed to one of the many snack wagons parked along the beach. “I HAVE to get something to eat. Meanwhile, you go change. There’s a phone booth over by that tall hotel, use that if YOU’RE so modest AND slow.”
Clark winced at the thought of changing clothes in a public phone booth, but after looking around at the crowds of people on the wide-open expanse of seemingly endless beach, the phone booth was looking like a good option. “Okay,” he agreed.
“Clark, before you go, answer this:”
“Yeah?”
“How DID you move that truck?”
Clark grinned then disappeared into the nearby phone booth.
CHAPTER 3
Clark was in his swim trunks and barefoot when he joined Bart at the snack wagon. Bart was wolfing down his fifth hotdog and third power drink.
“Want a dog, dude?” asked Bart.
“No thanks. Not hungry yet. I notice you eat all the time?”
“Got to. Since my body got zapped, supercharged, whatever you want to call it, I gotta eat about every hour or so IF I do any running.”
“No kidding?”
Bart polished off the last hotdog. “Yeah. AND THAT, my sit-down-to-dinner-every-night-friend, is why you NEVER want me as a houseguest for very long. I WILL eat you out of house and home.”
“I don’t know. I eat like a horse and my mom keeps up with me pretty well.”
Bart tossed Clark a bottle of water. “At least you need to stay hydrated. You pass out down here and I’ll just bury you in the sand.”
Clark chuckled and chug-ga-lugged the water in a single swig.
“Okay,” said Bart. “I’m impressed.” A little light bulb went on over Bart’s head. “Speaking of impressions; want to have some fun?” Clark nodded. Bart motioned for Clark to hand him his bundle of clothes. “Albert? When are you closing up today?”
“Same time as always, Bart.” replied the snack wagon proprietor as he lifted Bart’s backpack and Clark’s bundle over the counter as if it was part of his daily routine.
“Great. We’ll be back for our stuff way before then. Thanks, Albert.” Bart walked a short distance from the snack wagon. “Follow me, Clark.” Without a clue what he was in for, Clark followed.
A second later Bart stopped at a lifeguard tower several miles down the beach. “Follow my lead, Stretch. Be cool.”
Clark caught on immediately when he saw the pickup truck he’d long ago freed from the sand, approaching from down the beach. When the girls saw Clark and Bart, they freaked. “How did you guys do that?” “Look, it’s THEM!” “Nah, IMPOSSIBLE. We left them miles back.” “Did anybody see them pass us?” “How?”
Clark folded his arms over his chest and smiled, but Bart waved his arms like a drowning man. “Hi girls! What took you so long? “
One of the girls let the tailgate down and the girls motioned for Clark and Bart to join them, but right before their eyes, the two boys disappeared. Someone pointed to the ocean and screamed. Two wall-like sprays of water were rising out of the surf . What was amazing was the sprays were not random, but choreographed like the huge fountains at the Bellagio Casino in Las Vegas. Traffic stopped and a crowd gathered to watch in wonder. At times, the two walls of water looked like they were going to collide, but at the last second, one veered off. Then, as the crowd watched in bewilderment, the two sprays began to travel in circles and as the circles grew smaller, the ocean began to rise up in two columns resembling waterspouts..
“Now, THAT’S entertainment,” said Bart and he and Clark began to applaud themselves. They were standing behind the pickup truck and the girls were startled since the two boys seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Bart cheered when the two waterspouts collapsed in spectacular splashes.
“Well done, Flash,” said Clark.
“Why thank you, thank you, thank you! I AM the amazing FLASH.”
Clark rolled his eyes and disappeared. This time, Bart followed him. Soon, two thin walls of water were rising up side by side, heading south toward Miami.
TO BE CONTINUED...
CHAPTER 4
Clark Kent was standing on Miami Beach for the first time in his life. It was warm, probably 85 degrees. (No, more like 85.25 degrees, Clark corrected himself.) He turned on his X-ray vision and marveled at how “alive” the Pacific Ocean was. The many swimmers, waders, windsurfers, wave riders and boogie boarders ALL were sharing the water with sea turtles, jellyfish, dolphins, manatees and many varieties of fish, including SHARKS.
Clark chuckled at the sight of a little blonde-haired girl in a red poke-a-dot swimsuit who was having a ball running through flocks of seagulls. The gulls scattered in all directions and the child would giggle until she got the hiccups. The birds always came back to her though because she also held a big bag of pretzels and would throw handfuls up in the air. Seagulls obviously loved pretzels.
Bart, meanwhile, had taken advantage of Clark’s distraction to steal a few power drinks from the nearby convenience store. When he came back to he beach he found Clark standing under a huge palm tree, looking straight up to the top fronds. “What’s with you, Clark? Haven’t you ever seen a palm tree before?”
Clark continued to admire the tree. “Sure. I have a friend who has palm trees in his private atrium. But none of them are this tall. This is one TALL tree.”
“Dude, it’s just a frigging palm tree,” continued Bart. “You’re looking at it like you’re an alien from another world and this is your first visit to Planet Earth.”
Clark burst out laughing and walked off down the beach, still laughing.
“What? Hey, what’s so funny?” asked Bart as he caught up to Clark.
“Hungry,” said Clark. “NOW I’m hungry.”
“Well, that’s too bad.”
“Huh?”
“Somebody left Daytona Beach with no money. And, since you have this thing against stealing…”
“I have an idea how to make some money, “ said Clark. “See that recycle center over by the quick store?”
Bart groaned. “You want to pick up cans? You want to put some REAL beach bum out of work?”
Clark reached over and picked up an orphan beer can. “The REAL question is: are YOU hungry? And, I’m betting I can pickup more cans than you in, let’s say, 20 seconds.”
Bart blurred for a second then handed Clark a garbage bag. “You’re on, Dude. Meet you back here in exactly 20 seconds. Later!” Bart disappeared in one direction while Clark took off in another.
All up and down Miami Beach, garbage cans rattled and holes appeared in the sand. Clark was using his X-ray vision, which may have been cheating, but Bart would never know, and the Kansas farm boy REALLY was hungry. At less than a dollar per pound, Clark and Bart were going to need a lot of cans.
Twenty seconds later, the two boys rendezvoused once more. Bart’s sack was full but he was very suspicious and peaked inside Clark’s seemingly less-full sack. He pulled out a can. “Hey, all of these cans have been flattened.” He dug deeper. “Man, some of these cans look like they’re older than I am!”
Clark smiled. “As my dad would probably say: a can is a can, is a can is a can. Let’s eat!”
After their meals, Bart and Clark sat under the tall palm tree having a burping contest. Bart was winning. Clark didn’t care; he was totally content and relaxed. His Kryptonian/Kansan body had just experienced the pleasures of a huge Cuban sandwich and three pieces of Florida key lime pie. He had also learned the difference between “sweet” and UN-sweet” iced tea.
Florida was great! It was about to get greater!
CHAPTER 5
Bart saw the brunette in the black bikini first. He went slack-jawed and an involuntary burp emerged from his open mouth. He gave Clark a jab in the ribs with his elbow. “Stretch! Diva at four o’clock.”
Clark looked up. “LOIS?”
“You know her?” asked Bart, immediately impressed.
“No, no.” Clark paused, relieved and disappointed at the same time that the girl walking down the beach was NOT Lois Lane. “No.”
“Too bad. But the way she’s looking at you, she definitely wants to know you.”
The bikini-clad girl paused in front of the two boys and bent over to pick up a seashell. Her eyes locked with Clark’s as she slowly straightened up. Clark smiled, then turned away, bashfully.
Bart waved and winked. “Please, please, please God,” he whispered, “let there be another seashell.” The girl bent over again. “Thank you.” Bart went slack-jawed again.
Clark looked up and marveled how closely the girl resembled Lois. His mind was in confusion. Why did he think of Lois? She’s the last person on earth he’d want to meet on the beach in Miami. Why, now, was Clark having trouble clearing his mind of the vision of Lois?
Bart was a mind reader. “So, who’s this Lois?”
"TROUBLE," replied Clark. “You just be grateful that’s NOT her. I don’t care how fast you are, Flash. Lois could chew you up and spit you out before you knew what hit you.”
“Hmmm, I like her already.” Bart added the name “Lois” to the mental file he kept on Clark Kent. The name obviously affected his new-found friend: 1.) she meant something to him, OR, 2.) she just hit a raw nerve. “Tell me if… if…”
Bart’s question was interrupted by a commotion just down the beach. The girl in the black bikini was trying to walk past a group of volleyball players who had just finished a game, and, theorized Bart, a large number of beers. Whichever way the girl tried to walk, several of the players blocked her way. She was starting to panic.
“Clark, man, look. Those @#$%^&* are giving ‘Lois’ some grief. It’s time for the Flash and his trusty sidekick Stretch to go to her rescue.”
Bart stood up, but Clark pulled him back down. “I can’t draw any attention to myself.”
“Why not? You’re NOT in SMALLVILLE. Nobody knows you here. Are you just going to let those bullies give ‘LOIS’ a hard time?” There, he used THE NAME; time to see what reaction it garnered.
Clark was shaking his head “no”. So many times he’d gone through this moral conflict: been forced to look the other way when the bullies in school bullied the other kids, and, sometimes bullied him. His folks told him he had to protect his secret. (“Don’t draw attention to yourself, son,” Jonathan Kent would say to him.)
“You HAVE the power. You and I can move so fast we could take out all twelve of those guys without anybody even seeing us do it.”
"You're right." Clark stood up. “But what would be the fun in that? Let’s go kick butt.”
“Awwlllrrrright!” agreed Bart. “I AM the Flash and you are..” Clark disappeared. “..are going to beat me there!” Bart speed off to join Clark. I feel like a super-hero already, thought Bart. “And I kinda like it.”
CHAPTER 6
The 280-pound, darkly-tanned volleyball player in the orange speed-do was obviously the ringleader, observed Clark, as he and Bart sped around the group planning their strategy .
“Just let me pass,” asked ‘Lois’. “I need to meet a friend.”
Clark was admiring how the girl in the black bikini was gaining some nerve and actually starting to stand up to the bullies. Still, if she REALLY had been Lois Lane, at least four or five of the volleyball players would be holding their groins by now.
“I want to be your friend, baby.” The big tanned man leaned in so closely to the girl’s face that she could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Give us a kiss, baby!”
Then it was Clark Kent who was smelling the beer breath.
Bart had swept the girl away at super speed and Clark had stepped into exactly the spot where she had stood. “I’M NOT INTO THAT,” announced Clark in a deep voice. The tanned man fell back, totally startled, as was the entire volleyball team. Clark folded his arms over his chest and stood as straight and tall as his favorite palm tree.
When the tanned man had recovered slightly, he leaned back over into Clark’s face. “Who are you? Where’s the girl?”
“What girl?” asked Clark. “All I know is that I was walking along the beach and you stopped me. I told you I had to go meet a friend and then YOU asked me for a kiss...baby!”
The volleyball team began a loud rumble of conversation as they tried to compare notes on what WAS happening, or what HAD happened, AND, what was ABOUT to happen.
“Smart-#$%,” yelled the tanned man and he took a swing at Clark. Clark could have dodged the punch, but, this wasn’t SMALLVILLE, this was Miami Beach. He told himself not to flinch or even blink when the man’s fist crashed into his face.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhyeeeeee!” screamed the tanned man and he tumbled backward cradling his right arm to his chest.
Bart rushed up. “Dude, what’d I miss?”
“This guy just asked me for a kiss and called me BABY.”
“Oh yeah?” Bart started laughing hysterically which was starting to incite the team. Bart didn’t care. He hadn’t had this much fun in a long, long time. He stretched out his right arm and propped it against Clark’s shoulder; then he leaned and crossed his legs like he was leaning against a real tree. “You jerks don’t know who you’re dealing with here.” He started to look around in various directions as if to convey that he was the bravest, most-bored man alive. “I recommend you go play with your ball and leave innocent bystanders alone. This is NOT your beach. People have a right to…”
Bart continued lecturing the team on beach manners. The men stood like zombies, eyes open but not comprehending a thing. Clark was beginning to feel like Chewbacca standing next to and listening to Han Solo. He hadn’t had this much fun in a long, long time. Bart Allen was so cool at times.
Suddenly, Clark’s super-hearing intercepted the sound of a woman’s scream and without another thought, he disappeared, leaving Bart to lean against empty air.
TO BE CONTINUED….
CHAPTER 7
One of the players in the back row had fainted, probably from the combination of too much sun and alcohol, but Bart Allen liked to think the man passed out from brain lock and shock while trying to make sense of his lecture on beach etiquette.
“And another thing,” Bart continued, “treat the ladies like ladies. It is just wrong, wrong, wrong for you guys to act any other way. Right, Stretch?” Bart looked up at the spot where Clark Kent’s face would have been IF he was still standing beside him.. Bart had felt his friend speed off so fast that to the dozen players in front of him, it must have seemed that Clark had just disappeared.
Instead of following Clark, Bart had just continued to talk as if Clark was still there. This was great fun; Bart was feeling like Elwood talking to his invisible rabbit Harvey. The reaction from the men was hilarious. He was sure most of them would swear off beer for a month; well, at least for a few days.
Bart heard some police sirens and decided to go investigate. “Well, why don’t you guys all do a group hug then all go home. Bye.” Bart disappeared Another player fainted.
The boy who called himself The Flash suddenly was standing next to Clark back near the tall palm tree. Clark was looking out into the ocean, so deep in concentration that he didn’t notice Bart. “What’s up, Dude?”
A Beach Patrol truck pulled up and four lifeguards jumped out and dove into the water. He also noticed a policeman talking to a sobbing, near-hysterical woman. “Somebody drown?” asked Bart.
“I don’t think so,” answered Clark without breaking his grid-by-grid search of the water. “Do you remember that little girl feeding the seagulls?”
Bart’s heart sunk. “Yeah. Blonde. About three years old, I imagine. Red suit with the poke-a-dots.” Bart’s heart sunk lower when he looked down and saw the almost-empty bag of pretzels abandoned on the beach. “Oh my God, don’t tell me she’s drown?”
Clark gave out a big sigh of relief. “No, she’s not out there,” he announced, having just completed a scan of the ocean with his X-ray vision.
“How do you know?”
“Trust me on this one, Bart.”
“You don’t suppose somebody grabbed her?”
Clark looked at Bart and nodded. It always sickened Clark when he remembered how much evil existed in the world. “You KNOW what we have to do.”
“Kidnapped or lost; doesn’t matter,“ said Bart. “We’re wasting time!’ Bart and Clark vanished and began a search of the beach for the missing little girl.
CHAPTER 8
Funny how things work, thought Clark. Here he was, half a country away from his Kansas home, and he was searching the exact same beach he had searched earlier in the day. It was NOT foreign territory. He knew every nook and cranky for miles. It should have been easy to find a little girl named “Melissa“, just as easy as finding recyclable cans.
Clark would stop frequently and listen, trying to tune into the voice he heard giggling on the beach. Nothing. Once in a while he’d also try to tune into Bart’s voice. Nothing. The one voice he could hear was the voice of Melissa’s mother, blaming herself over and over for falling asleep on the beach and letting her daughter drown.
Clark cringed. Perhaps he should have told someone the girl was NOT in the ocean, but they probably would have thought he was nuts. Or, they probably would have had HIM arrested.
He cringed again and ran a scenario though his head: RING. RING. “Hello, Dad? Mom? It’s your loving, adoring son Clark. I’m in jail down in Miami Beach. Yes, I WAS in the barn this morning, but now I’m in Miami. IN JAIL. But I’m innocent! I’m innocent! Can you come bail me out? Please?”
Meanwhile, Bart Allen had given up searching the beach because he had found no sign of Melissa. He was now searching car to car, truck to truck, van to van. He was twenty miles down the main street when he came across a red La Baron convertible with a bundle in a blanket belted into the front passenger seat. The car was going 50 mph in a 35 mph zone.
On Bart’s first super-speed pass by the car he pulled the blanket off, trying to make it look like it had blown off in the wind. The tactic worked because the La Baron pulled over into a parking spot in a construction zone in front of an old Art Deco hotel.
On Bart’s second pass he was able to tell Melissa was okay, but the middle-aged woman dressed in beachwear driving the car had a tether tied around the little girl’s wrist. The other end of the tether was tied around the woman’s waist! “#$%^”, thought, Bart, “this means I can’t just grab her out the car. Think fast Flash! Think!”
Bart suddenly appeared at the passenger side of the convertible. “Well, hi there, Melissa. I haven’t seen you for ages! How are you?” He crouched down so he was eye-level with the totally-disoriented and squinting girl. “You remember your Uncle Barry, don’t you? I know it’s been a while, but I’ve been busy. You understand, don’t ‘ya? But I always remember you on your birthday, Melissa, and at Christmas. You are just as pretty as ever and growing up so fast.”
Bart looked up at the woman and reached out to shake her hand. “Hi, you must be a friend of Melissa’s mom. I’m her Uncle Barry…”
Bart immediately found himself looking into the barrel of a very large handgun. Bart’s fast-talk didn’t work this time. The pistol was real. The bullet would be real. He didn’t know if he could out-dodge a bullet; it was a huge unknown to him. He froze. In slow-motion he watched the woman’s finger start to pull the trigger.
CHAPTER 9
“I’m dead,” thought Bart, still unable to move because the pistol was so close, so intimidating, so REAL. He closed his eyes and waited to hear the bang.
Instead he heard an angel’s small voice: “NEVER PLAY WITH GUNS!” as little Melissa shoved the woman’s hand and the gun out of her face and into the air. The gun went off.
Clark had picked up on Bart’s phony “Uncle Barry” story and arrived just as the bullet cleared the barrel. What he saw next was truly amazing.
Bart dislodged the gun from the woman’s hand and jumped into action. Before the bullet had moved an inch into the air, the teen had freed Melissa from the tether and shoved the toddler into Clark’s arms for safekeeping.
Bart then used some yellow “do not cross this line” tape to tie the kidnapper’s wrists and arms to the steering wheel. He wrapped some of the tape around the woman’s mouth and, almost as an afterthought, placed a bright orange traffic cone over the woman’s head.
“Sorry I was late,” apologized Clark as Bart returned to normal speed and walked over to his tall friend.
“No problem.” Bart took Melissa out of Clark’s arms and hugged her tightly. “What smart person told you to never play with guns, Melissa?”
“My daddy. He’s a policeman.” Melissa touched Bart’s spiked hair as if to test whether it was fake. “Are you really my Uncle Barry?”
“No Angel,” Bart responded softly, fully aware that Clark was grinning ear-to-ear at him. “But I do know where your mommy is. She sent me to find you. Would you like to see your mommy?
“Yeah! MY REAL mommy!”
“Hold on tight.” Bart turned around to protect his passenger and started running backward toward the beach.
Clark took one more look at the convertible with its ridiculous-looking driver with the orange cone on her head, then jogged after Bart.
“Miami Beach here we come again,” said Clark, still in marvel of Bart’s actions. “Are you ready for us?”
TO BE CONTINUED...
CHAPTER 10
Since little Melissa was the daughter of one of their own, the Miami Police Department was in no hurry to question Clark and Bart about the rescue. The kidnapper had been found, just as the two boys said, with her arms tied to the steering wheel and the orange traffic cone still on her head like a dunce cap.
“The suspect is under arrest,” the police sergeant announced to the waiting crowd at the beach and a cheer went up.
And, much to Clark and Bart’s chagrin, the crowd turned and applauded the two boys. They both stared down at the sand and slowly moved around to stand behind the police car which held Melissa and her mother.
The sergeant followed them and spoke to them privately. “Turns out that woman has a rap sheet as long as my arm. Kidnapping is a definite violation of her probation. She’ll be back in jail in a flash and will stay there for a long time.”
“That’s great,” answered Clark, not looking up, still trying to blend in with the beach. Another, new scenario went through his mind: “ RING. RING. Mom? Dad? It’s me again. Yes, I’m STILL in Miami. Yes, that really was me on the six o’clock news. Oh, EVERYBODY saw me? Do you guys have a problem with that? Say Mom, did Lana see me?"
Bart leaned over and peeked into the police car. Melissa’s mother, her face still streaked with tears, looked up at him and mouthed the words she had said to him a dozen times earlier after he had placed her daughter back into her arms, “Thank you.” She smiled and Bart flashed a genuine smile in return.
“We’re waiting for her father to show up,” the sergeant told them. “His E.T.A. is about ten minutes. He wants to thank you two personally.”
“Not really necessary,” offered Clark. “My friend was just in the right place at the right time.”
“Oh, and there’s a reward," added the sergeant. "The local Crime Watch group posted it almost immediately.”
Bart appeared between Clark and the sergeant. “Reward? Did you say REWARD? How much?”
“Excuse us for a minute,” said Clark as he grabbed Bart by the shoulder and drug him off to the side for a little heart-to-hustler talk. “What do you think you are doing?’
“Dude, there’s a reward!” protested Bart. “It’s honest money! What’s your beef?”
“I can’t believe you! It’s just not right! Let’s just get out of here before the news crews show up.”
Bart chuckled. “That WOULD be hard for you to explain, huh, Stretch?” Then Bart frowned. “Listen to me, Clark. I survive on the streets the best I can. Somebody offers me money, a reward, a booby prize, stick of gum, WHATEVER, I’ll take it. I have to look out for ME.”
“News flash, Flash: it’s NOT about YOU.” Clark felt his words fall on deaf ears.
But Bart’s feelings were bouncing all over the place. Still, he told Clark what he had told many others before.
“Dude, let me tell you how it is. ME first. MYSELF second. And, if there’s anything left, I’LL take it.”
Clark was going to respond but Bart disappeared. Clark spotted him walking toward the sergeant, who was now sitting in his patrol car.
“Sergeant?” said Bart as he stuck his face partially through the car’s window, “about that reward.”
It was then that Bart spotted the box of Krispy Crème donuts on the car seat next to the sergeant. From the aroma, the starving teen could tell the donuts were still warm and fresh.
“Now sergeant, about that reward business…”
Clark, meanwhile, was still hiding. He would occasionally peek at Melissa and her mother, enjoying the special extended reunion the two shared. He had seen that loving look in his own mother’s eyes, the second he walked through the door of the Kent farmhouse upon his return from his Red-K nightmare in Metropolis. He felt a twinge of homesickness.
Suddenly, Bart appeared next to him holding a box of donuts. He motioned with his eyes that it was time to leave.
Clark looked down at the box and laughed. “Donuts?”
Bart shrugged and grinned. “My reward. You happy NOW Mr. Boy Scout? I‘M happy.”
A second later, future-Justice-Leaguers Clark Kent and Bart Allen disappeared from Miami Beach and headed north back to Daytona.
CHAPTER 11
Clark was amazed to see how many donuts Bart could finish in just the time it took the Kryptonian to finish one. “I’m sure glad I don’t have his metabolism,” thought Clark. He ran his tongue over his top teeth to taste the last sweetness of the glazed donut Bart had given him, part of his “reward”.
“I can’t believe he chose a box of donuts over a cash reward,” marveled Clark, but then Bart Allen was full of surprises.
At times, Bart reminded him of young mind-reader Ryan, but mostly, he thought of Bart as one of a kind: kind of a lost soul with screwed-up priorities. In other words, Clark could relate!
Clark gladly accepted the bottle of water Bart bought for him at the snack wagon. Bart had ordered up six hotdogs. He mentally figured that the purchases would leave the two boys with a total of seventy-five cents.
Clark noticed a girl near Albert’s snack wagon was staring at him, almost as if she knew who he was. He flashed her his biggest, friendliest smile. It was so easy for him to respond to people when they DIDN’T know who he was. “Someday I’ll have to try a disguise,” mused Clark, “call myself SUPER-STRETCH or some such thing.”
“Thanks for the water,” he told Bart. “And, I figure we have about half an hour left before we have to head home.”
Bart nodded, not pausing between bites to speak.
“How many hotdogs can he eat in one day?" Clark asked the vendor.
“He’s my best customer,” said Albert with a chuckle.
To Clark, this meant Bart frequented this beach often, but who could blame him? Clark walked closer to the water and sat down on the sand to finish his drink. The whole beach scene was intoxicating: exciting yet calming at the same time. The lapping waves, the clatter of vehicles driving up and down the beach, laughter, airplanes flying overhead with banners trailing behind them like big billboard signs, and, all the swimsuit clad “natives“ and tourists.
Of all, Clark liked the sunshine the best. Who could know that moving just a little closer to the earth‘s equator could FEEL so good. He laid back on the sand, crossed his ankles and laced his fingers behind his head. He was so relaxed in the sunshine, the wonderful sunshine. Clark closed his eyes.
Meanwhile, Bart finished his last hotdog and power drink. He looked down at the three silver quarters in his hand and sighed. He hated being broke. He found himself lamenting when he thought of all the mansions he and Clark had passed while they were racing up the beach. Mansions with rich people in them with things he could steal and pawn.
“But I can‘t pull a heist with Mr. Boy Scout along,” realized Bart. “Oh well, opportunity will knock. It always does.”
Bart sat down and was checking out the soles of his feet for any wear and tear when he noticed a crowd gathering over where he knew Clark had stretched out on the beach. “Okay, what’s Clark up to now?” he asked himself, trying not to get too annoyed. “That boy just can’t seem to keep things simple!”
He sped over to the crowd and pushed his way through. “Dang!” he gasped when he saw Clark was floating on his back about five feet off the beach. “Clark, you continue to amaze me,” thought Bart.
He opened his mental file again and recorded this note: “Clark can float as well as speed”. But why was the farm boy from Smallville making such a public exhibition of himself?
“He’s asleep,” whispered a woman in the crowd. Bart moved closer and discovered it was TRUE, Clark WAS asleep.
“Dang,” repeated Bart. Then he heard “the knock”. Bart raced back to the snack wagon and returned with a paper cup with his three quarters in it.
“Shhh!” Bart instructed the crowd. “She’s right. He’s asleep and, for a little donation of your spare change or a dollar or two or twenty,” Bart shook the cup to make the coins rattle, “I’ll tell you HOW he does it.”
For a little added drama, Bart waved his hands between Clark and the beach and would disappear and appear sitting Indian-style on the beach directly under the floating Clark. “Shh!” said Bart and held a finger to his lips.
“How do you guys DO that?” asked a totally amazed spectator who was the first to stuff a dollar in the paper cup.
“Everybody feed the kitty and I’ll tell you,” repeated Bart, shaking the cup and grinning like a cat himself.
As soon as he felt he’d milked the crowd for as much money as he could, Bart waved his arms at super speed to create a weak vacuum under Clark and the sleeping youth floated back down onto the beach.
Bart then turned to the crowd and bowed. “It’s MAGIC!” he announced and the crowd dissipated with a few laughs and groans and whistles.
“What fools!” Bart sat down beside Clark and started counting the money. “Umm, not bad,” he said aloud. “Thanks Clark!”
“Hmm?” answered Clark as he rubbed his eyes and yawned. “What time is it?”
“Time for you and I to hit the showers.”
Clark sat up. “Good idea. I have sand... in places... I didn’t even know sand could get to.”
Bart laughed. “I know the feeling.”
TO BE CONTINUED...
EPILOGE
The two teens zipped into a nearby resort hotel with outdoor showers near the pool area. At top speed, it only took seconds to wash all the sand and salt water off.
After Clark made a return visit to the nearby phone booth to change back into his jeans and flannel, the two stood side by side back near the Atlantic Ocean, staring out at the horizon.
“Too bad this has to end,” sighed Clark.
“Told ‘ya. It’s a big world.”
“But my world is small, as in Smallville.”
“Okay, you lead the way this time.”
“Ahh, I can’t.” said Clark, sheepishly.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know the way home.”
Bart laughed and punched Clark in the arm. "Ouch," he gasped and made another mental note to never hit Clark again. “Then we'll go back together. Side by side.”
Clark sighed. “Then it’s good-bye Florida, hello Smallville.”
A cloud of sand rose and settled back unto the beach. Little did the two teens know that in the future, together, side-by-side, they would save the world many times over.
One of the tourists who had dropped a dollar into the paper cup earlier in the day, returned to the beach and was disappointed to find the two teens gone.
“Magic? Yeah, sure,” he thought, puzzled but not at all unhappy. “That was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. Wonder if they’ll be back tomorrow? I’d like to see THAT magic again!”
THE END
----- Added 4 Minutes later -----
Before somebody says it, yes I know there's a special place on Kryptonsite for fan fiction. Two things. #1 I didn't write it so I didn't want to post it there as if it was my own; #2 I don't intend to make a habit out of reposting fan fiction. Just a one time thing I found amusing. So before somebody calls me out, I know, I know, ;)
-M-
[B]BART and CLARK (a missing scene from "RUN")[/
Rated G
By Kryptomaniac (who loved the episode RUN and wanted to expanded it. This scene takes place right after Bart dares Clark to take a trip. What if Clark DID go?)
CHAPTER 1
Clark was amazed! It took all his concentration to follow the red and yellow figure in front of him. He found himself pushing his speed to his limits and, still, he felt like Bart Allen was holding back just so Clark could keep up with him.
Highway signs came and went but Clark dare not take his eyes off Bart. “Welcome to the Sunshine State,” said a voice out of nowhere. The voice was followed by boyish laughter.
“Better stop, Clark!” yelled Bart and Clark shut down just in time to keep from running straight into the Atlantic Ocean.
A huge wave of sand burst from the beach and when it settled, Clark’s mouth dropped open in awe. In a matter of seconds, he had traveled from his home in Smallville, Kansas, to a beach in Florida. Gentle waves lapped at his shoes and a warm, moist tropical breeze caressed his face. What was that taste? Clark licked his lips: it was salt! He took in a deep breath. “Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all“, thought Clark.
“Clark! Get a grip, dude.” Bart was enjoying this. “Don’t embarrass me!” While he had been to Florida a hundred times, it was clear to him that Clark had not. “This is going to be fun“, thought Bart, “Clark’s like a babe in the woods“.
Clark turned and saw the look on Bart’s face. It was that smile where just the corner of his mouth was upturned in a half-smirk. It reminded him of a smile Chloe might flash just before she asked him to break into the secret files at the FBI.
“Uh, oh,” Clark said, aloud this time, “maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all.”
CHAPTER 2
Bart laughed. “Clark, I swear, you are so uptight at times! You sound like your dad.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” replied Clark. “But, you need to know this about me…” Before Clark could answer he was distracted by yelling.
“Hey! Hey you guys! Yeah, you! FARMBOYS!,” shouted multiple female voices at once. “We could use a little help over here!”
Bart and Clark looked up to see a pickup load of swimsuit-clad girls yelling and waving at them. The truck was stuck up to axles in the beach sand. Clark looked up and down the beach and saw an endless line of vehicles driving in both directions.; it looked a little like Main Street in Smallville on cruise night.. The pickup with the girls, however, had strayed off the hard-packed sand and become hopelessly stuck. “Is this Miami Beach?” asked Clark.
“Nope,” replied Bart. ”This is Daytona Beach. Miami is a couple of seconds south of here.. Man, this just keeps getting better and better. Come on, Stretch, time for two superstuds to flash their stuff!”
“If you keep calling me ‘Stretch’”, retaliated Clark, “I’m going to start calling you ‘FLASH’.”
“Like that’s original,” teased Bart. He and Clark walked over to the pickup. “Girls, this is your lucky day. No tow truck needed. I am the human shovel. I can dig you out of the sand so fast your bikini strings will pop.” The girls giggled and laughed and Bart heard many “Isn‘t he cute?’ whispers.
But when Clark walked up, the pickup load of girls went silent. Clark had removed his flannel shirt and tied it around his waist. He spent a few seconds flexing his arms and soaking up the rays of the yellow Florida sun. Clark was feeling suddenly super-charged and carefree, especially after he saw the look on the girls’ faces.
“Man, they’re looking at Clark like he was a snow cone,” thought Bart. “Babe in the woods? Forget it. He’s a Babe-Magnet instead!”
“This is going to get good,” Bart said aloud and grinned at Clark. “These girls are checking you out like you are ONE OF A KIND! Don’t blow it for us.”
“Then stand aside, Flash,” warned Clark as he stepped up to the tailgate of the pickup. He smiled broadly at the passengers, all of whom had begun to giggle and laugh and fake faints and swoons. “Hang on girls,” he said in his most-manly voice, more as a distraction than a real warning. He tapped the rear bumper lightly; the pickup’s wheels stopped spinning and it lurched forward and continued down the beach, rejoining the parade of cars. The girls waved excitedly and yelled several “thank you’s” at the two boys.
“You’re welcome!” Bart yelled back. “See you later! My place! Top floor of the Hyatt! Presidential Suite! Come check out the pool! You don‘t want to miss it!” He waved and yelled at the girls until they disappeared down the beach.
“You are totally without modesty, do you know that?: said Clark, deadpan.
“Modesty? What’s that?” As if on cue, Bart’s body blurred for a second as he switched from his red and yellow jogging outfit into a pair of red swim trunks. “Come on Clark. Flannel and jeans and manure-scented workboots just don’t cut it at Daytona. Strip down to your boxers. They can pass as trunks for the afternoon.”
“Oh no they won’t.”
“What? Don’t gross me out, Stretch. Tell me you wear SOMETHING.”
“Very funny,” joked Clark. “Actually, if you don’t want to be embarrassed, you won’t make me change. My boxers were kind of a gag gift from a friend. They have the Power-Puff Girls on them.”
Bart doubled over with laughter. Okay, good excuse. No way he could get Clark to change now, or could he? Bart’s body blurred for a second and then he handed Clark a pair of red swim trunks; the price tag was still on them. “Don’t worry, Clark, I left some money on the cash register at the store.” He pointed to one of the many snack wagons parked along the beach. “I HAVE to get something to eat. Meanwhile, you go change. There’s a phone booth over by that tall hotel, use that if YOU’RE so modest AND slow.”
Clark winced at the thought of changing clothes in a public phone booth, but after looking around at the crowds of people on the wide-open expanse of seemingly endless beach, the phone booth was looking like a good option. “Okay,” he agreed.
“Clark, before you go, answer this:”
“Yeah?”
“How DID you move that truck?”
Clark grinned then disappeared into the nearby phone booth.
CHAPTER 3
Clark was in his swim trunks and barefoot when he joined Bart at the snack wagon. Bart was wolfing down his fifth hotdog and third power drink.
“Want a dog, dude?” asked Bart.
“No thanks. Not hungry yet. I notice you eat all the time?”
“Got to. Since my body got zapped, supercharged, whatever you want to call it, I gotta eat about every hour or so IF I do any running.”
“No kidding?”
Bart polished off the last hotdog. “Yeah. AND THAT, my sit-down-to-dinner-every-night-friend, is why you NEVER want me as a houseguest for very long. I WILL eat you out of house and home.”
“I don’t know. I eat like a horse and my mom keeps up with me pretty well.”
Bart tossed Clark a bottle of water. “At least you need to stay hydrated. You pass out down here and I’ll just bury you in the sand.”
Clark chuckled and chug-ga-lugged the water in a single swig.
“Okay,” said Bart. “I’m impressed.” A little light bulb went on over Bart’s head. “Speaking of impressions; want to have some fun?” Clark nodded. Bart motioned for Clark to hand him his bundle of clothes. “Albert? When are you closing up today?”
“Same time as always, Bart.” replied the snack wagon proprietor as he lifted Bart’s backpack and Clark’s bundle over the counter as if it was part of his daily routine.
“Great. We’ll be back for our stuff way before then. Thanks, Albert.” Bart walked a short distance from the snack wagon. “Follow me, Clark.” Without a clue what he was in for, Clark followed.
A second later Bart stopped at a lifeguard tower several miles down the beach. “Follow my lead, Stretch. Be cool.”
Clark caught on immediately when he saw the pickup truck he’d long ago freed from the sand, approaching from down the beach. When the girls saw Clark and Bart, they freaked. “How did you guys do that?” “Look, it’s THEM!” “Nah, IMPOSSIBLE. We left them miles back.” “Did anybody see them pass us?” “How?”
Clark folded his arms over his chest and smiled, but Bart waved his arms like a drowning man. “Hi girls! What took you so long? “
One of the girls let the tailgate down and the girls motioned for Clark and Bart to join them, but right before their eyes, the two boys disappeared. Someone pointed to the ocean and screamed. Two wall-like sprays of water were rising out of the surf . What was amazing was the sprays were not random, but choreographed like the huge fountains at the Bellagio Casino in Las Vegas. Traffic stopped and a crowd gathered to watch in wonder. At times, the two walls of water looked like they were going to collide, but at the last second, one veered off. Then, as the crowd watched in bewilderment, the two sprays began to travel in circles and as the circles grew smaller, the ocean began to rise up in two columns resembling waterspouts..
“Now, THAT’S entertainment,” said Bart and he and Clark began to applaud themselves. They were standing behind the pickup truck and the girls were startled since the two boys seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Bart cheered when the two waterspouts collapsed in spectacular splashes.
“Well done, Flash,” said Clark.
“Why thank you, thank you, thank you! I AM the amazing FLASH.”
Clark rolled his eyes and disappeared. This time, Bart followed him. Soon, two thin walls of water were rising up side by side, heading south toward Miami.
TO BE CONTINUED...
CHAPTER 4
Clark Kent was standing on Miami Beach for the first time in his life. It was warm, probably 85 degrees. (No, more like 85.25 degrees, Clark corrected himself.) He turned on his X-ray vision and marveled at how “alive” the Pacific Ocean was. The many swimmers, waders, windsurfers, wave riders and boogie boarders ALL were sharing the water with sea turtles, jellyfish, dolphins, manatees and many varieties of fish, including SHARKS.
Clark chuckled at the sight of a little blonde-haired girl in a red poke-a-dot swimsuit who was having a ball running through flocks of seagulls. The gulls scattered in all directions and the child would giggle until she got the hiccups. The birds always came back to her though because she also held a big bag of pretzels and would throw handfuls up in the air. Seagulls obviously loved pretzels.
Bart, meanwhile, had taken advantage of Clark’s distraction to steal a few power drinks from the nearby convenience store. When he came back to he beach he found Clark standing under a huge palm tree, looking straight up to the top fronds. “What’s with you, Clark? Haven’t you ever seen a palm tree before?”
Clark continued to admire the tree. “Sure. I have a friend who has palm trees in his private atrium. But none of them are this tall. This is one TALL tree.”
“Dude, it’s just a frigging palm tree,” continued Bart. “You’re looking at it like you’re an alien from another world and this is your first visit to Planet Earth.”
Clark burst out laughing and walked off down the beach, still laughing.
“What? Hey, what’s so funny?” asked Bart as he caught up to Clark.
“Hungry,” said Clark. “NOW I’m hungry.”
“Well, that’s too bad.”
“Huh?”
“Somebody left Daytona Beach with no money. And, since you have this thing against stealing…”
“I have an idea how to make some money, “ said Clark. “See that recycle center over by the quick store?”
Bart groaned. “You want to pick up cans? You want to put some REAL beach bum out of work?”
Clark reached over and picked up an orphan beer can. “The REAL question is: are YOU hungry? And, I’m betting I can pickup more cans than you in, let’s say, 20 seconds.”
Bart blurred for a second then handed Clark a garbage bag. “You’re on, Dude. Meet you back here in exactly 20 seconds. Later!” Bart disappeared in one direction while Clark took off in another.
All up and down Miami Beach, garbage cans rattled and holes appeared in the sand. Clark was using his X-ray vision, which may have been cheating, but Bart would never know, and the Kansas farm boy REALLY was hungry. At less than a dollar per pound, Clark and Bart were going to need a lot of cans.
Twenty seconds later, the two boys rendezvoused once more. Bart’s sack was full but he was very suspicious and peaked inside Clark’s seemingly less-full sack. He pulled out a can. “Hey, all of these cans have been flattened.” He dug deeper. “Man, some of these cans look like they’re older than I am!”
Clark smiled. “As my dad would probably say: a can is a can, is a can is a can. Let’s eat!”
After their meals, Bart and Clark sat under the tall palm tree having a burping contest. Bart was winning. Clark didn’t care; he was totally content and relaxed. His Kryptonian/Kansan body had just experienced the pleasures of a huge Cuban sandwich and three pieces of Florida key lime pie. He had also learned the difference between “sweet” and UN-sweet” iced tea.
Florida was great! It was about to get greater!
CHAPTER 5
Bart saw the brunette in the black bikini first. He went slack-jawed and an involuntary burp emerged from his open mouth. He gave Clark a jab in the ribs with his elbow. “Stretch! Diva at four o’clock.”
Clark looked up. “LOIS?”
“You know her?” asked Bart, immediately impressed.
“No, no.” Clark paused, relieved and disappointed at the same time that the girl walking down the beach was NOT Lois Lane. “No.”
“Too bad. But the way she’s looking at you, she definitely wants to know you.”
The bikini-clad girl paused in front of the two boys and bent over to pick up a seashell. Her eyes locked with Clark’s as she slowly straightened up. Clark smiled, then turned away, bashfully.
Bart waved and winked. “Please, please, please God,” he whispered, “let there be another seashell.” The girl bent over again. “Thank you.” Bart went slack-jawed again.
Clark looked up and marveled how closely the girl resembled Lois. His mind was in confusion. Why did he think of Lois? She’s the last person on earth he’d want to meet on the beach in Miami. Why, now, was Clark having trouble clearing his mind of the vision of Lois?
Bart was a mind reader. “So, who’s this Lois?”
"TROUBLE," replied Clark. “You just be grateful that’s NOT her. I don’t care how fast you are, Flash. Lois could chew you up and spit you out before you knew what hit you.”
“Hmmm, I like her already.” Bart added the name “Lois” to the mental file he kept on Clark Kent. The name obviously affected his new-found friend: 1.) she meant something to him, OR, 2.) she just hit a raw nerve. “Tell me if… if…”
Bart’s question was interrupted by a commotion just down the beach. The girl in the black bikini was trying to walk past a group of volleyball players who had just finished a game, and, theorized Bart, a large number of beers. Whichever way the girl tried to walk, several of the players blocked her way. She was starting to panic.
“Clark, man, look. Those @#$%^&* are giving ‘Lois’ some grief. It’s time for the Flash and his trusty sidekick Stretch to go to her rescue.”
Bart stood up, but Clark pulled him back down. “I can’t draw any attention to myself.”
“Why not? You’re NOT in SMALLVILLE. Nobody knows you here. Are you just going to let those bullies give ‘LOIS’ a hard time?” There, he used THE NAME; time to see what reaction it garnered.
Clark was shaking his head “no”. So many times he’d gone through this moral conflict: been forced to look the other way when the bullies in school bullied the other kids, and, sometimes bullied him. His folks told him he had to protect his secret. (“Don’t draw attention to yourself, son,” Jonathan Kent would say to him.)
“You HAVE the power. You and I can move so fast we could take out all twelve of those guys without anybody even seeing us do it.”
"You're right." Clark stood up. “But what would be the fun in that? Let’s go kick butt.”
“Awwlllrrrright!” agreed Bart. “I AM the Flash and you are..” Clark disappeared. “..are going to beat me there!” Bart speed off to join Clark. I feel like a super-hero already, thought Bart. “And I kinda like it.”
CHAPTER 6
The 280-pound, darkly-tanned volleyball player in the orange speed-do was obviously the ringleader, observed Clark, as he and Bart sped around the group planning their strategy .
“Just let me pass,” asked ‘Lois’. “I need to meet a friend.”
Clark was admiring how the girl in the black bikini was gaining some nerve and actually starting to stand up to the bullies. Still, if she REALLY had been Lois Lane, at least four or five of the volleyball players would be holding their groins by now.
“I want to be your friend, baby.” The big tanned man leaned in so closely to the girl’s face that she could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Give us a kiss, baby!”
Then it was Clark Kent who was smelling the beer breath.
Bart had swept the girl away at super speed and Clark had stepped into exactly the spot where she had stood. “I’M NOT INTO THAT,” announced Clark in a deep voice. The tanned man fell back, totally startled, as was the entire volleyball team. Clark folded his arms over his chest and stood as straight and tall as his favorite palm tree.
When the tanned man had recovered slightly, he leaned back over into Clark’s face. “Who are you? Where’s the girl?”
“What girl?” asked Clark. “All I know is that I was walking along the beach and you stopped me. I told you I had to go meet a friend and then YOU asked me for a kiss...baby!”
The volleyball team began a loud rumble of conversation as they tried to compare notes on what WAS happening, or what HAD happened, AND, what was ABOUT to happen.
“Smart-#$%,” yelled the tanned man and he took a swing at Clark. Clark could have dodged the punch, but, this wasn’t SMALLVILLE, this was Miami Beach. He told himself not to flinch or even blink when the man’s fist crashed into his face.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhyeeeeee!” screamed the tanned man and he tumbled backward cradling his right arm to his chest.
Bart rushed up. “Dude, what’d I miss?”
“This guy just asked me for a kiss and called me BABY.”
“Oh yeah?” Bart started laughing hysterically which was starting to incite the team. Bart didn’t care. He hadn’t had this much fun in a long, long time. He stretched out his right arm and propped it against Clark’s shoulder; then he leaned and crossed his legs like he was leaning against a real tree. “You jerks don’t know who you’re dealing with here.” He started to look around in various directions as if to convey that he was the bravest, most-bored man alive. “I recommend you go play with your ball and leave innocent bystanders alone. This is NOT your beach. People have a right to…”
Bart continued lecturing the team on beach manners. The men stood like zombies, eyes open but not comprehending a thing. Clark was beginning to feel like Chewbacca standing next to and listening to Han Solo. He hadn’t had this much fun in a long, long time. Bart Allen was so cool at times.
Suddenly, Clark’s super-hearing intercepted the sound of a woman’s scream and without another thought, he disappeared, leaving Bart to lean against empty air.
TO BE CONTINUED….
CHAPTER 7
One of the players in the back row had fainted, probably from the combination of too much sun and alcohol, but Bart Allen liked to think the man passed out from brain lock and shock while trying to make sense of his lecture on beach etiquette.
“And another thing,” Bart continued, “treat the ladies like ladies. It is just wrong, wrong, wrong for you guys to act any other way. Right, Stretch?” Bart looked up at the spot where Clark Kent’s face would have been IF he was still standing beside him.. Bart had felt his friend speed off so fast that to the dozen players in front of him, it must have seemed that Clark had just disappeared.
Instead of following Clark, Bart had just continued to talk as if Clark was still there. This was great fun; Bart was feeling like Elwood talking to his invisible rabbit Harvey. The reaction from the men was hilarious. He was sure most of them would swear off beer for a month; well, at least for a few days.
Bart heard some police sirens and decided to go investigate. “Well, why don’t you guys all do a group hug then all go home. Bye.” Bart disappeared Another player fainted.
The boy who called himself The Flash suddenly was standing next to Clark back near the tall palm tree. Clark was looking out into the ocean, so deep in concentration that he didn’t notice Bart. “What’s up, Dude?”
A Beach Patrol truck pulled up and four lifeguards jumped out and dove into the water. He also noticed a policeman talking to a sobbing, near-hysterical woman. “Somebody drown?” asked Bart.
“I don’t think so,” answered Clark without breaking his grid-by-grid search of the water. “Do you remember that little girl feeding the seagulls?”
Bart’s heart sunk. “Yeah. Blonde. About three years old, I imagine. Red suit with the poke-a-dots.” Bart’s heart sunk lower when he looked down and saw the almost-empty bag of pretzels abandoned on the beach. “Oh my God, don’t tell me she’s drown?”
Clark gave out a big sigh of relief. “No, she’s not out there,” he announced, having just completed a scan of the ocean with his X-ray vision.
“How do you know?”
“Trust me on this one, Bart.”
“You don’t suppose somebody grabbed her?”
Clark looked at Bart and nodded. It always sickened Clark when he remembered how much evil existed in the world. “You KNOW what we have to do.”
“Kidnapped or lost; doesn’t matter,“ said Bart. “We’re wasting time!’ Bart and Clark vanished and began a search of the beach for the missing little girl.
CHAPTER 8
Funny how things work, thought Clark. Here he was, half a country away from his Kansas home, and he was searching the exact same beach he had searched earlier in the day. It was NOT foreign territory. He knew every nook and cranky for miles. It should have been easy to find a little girl named “Melissa“, just as easy as finding recyclable cans.
Clark would stop frequently and listen, trying to tune into the voice he heard giggling on the beach. Nothing. Once in a while he’d also try to tune into Bart’s voice. Nothing. The one voice he could hear was the voice of Melissa’s mother, blaming herself over and over for falling asleep on the beach and letting her daughter drown.
Clark cringed. Perhaps he should have told someone the girl was NOT in the ocean, but they probably would have thought he was nuts. Or, they probably would have had HIM arrested.
He cringed again and ran a scenario though his head: RING. RING. “Hello, Dad? Mom? It’s your loving, adoring son Clark. I’m in jail down in Miami Beach. Yes, I WAS in the barn this morning, but now I’m in Miami. IN JAIL. But I’m innocent! I’m innocent! Can you come bail me out? Please?”
Meanwhile, Bart Allen had given up searching the beach because he had found no sign of Melissa. He was now searching car to car, truck to truck, van to van. He was twenty miles down the main street when he came across a red La Baron convertible with a bundle in a blanket belted into the front passenger seat. The car was going 50 mph in a 35 mph zone.
On Bart’s first super-speed pass by the car he pulled the blanket off, trying to make it look like it had blown off in the wind. The tactic worked because the La Baron pulled over into a parking spot in a construction zone in front of an old Art Deco hotel.
On Bart’s second pass he was able to tell Melissa was okay, but the middle-aged woman dressed in beachwear driving the car had a tether tied around the little girl’s wrist. The other end of the tether was tied around the woman’s waist! “#$%^”, thought, Bart, “this means I can’t just grab her out the car. Think fast Flash! Think!”
Bart suddenly appeared at the passenger side of the convertible. “Well, hi there, Melissa. I haven’t seen you for ages! How are you?” He crouched down so he was eye-level with the totally-disoriented and squinting girl. “You remember your Uncle Barry, don’t you? I know it’s been a while, but I’ve been busy. You understand, don’t ‘ya? But I always remember you on your birthday, Melissa, and at Christmas. You are just as pretty as ever and growing up so fast.”
Bart looked up at the woman and reached out to shake her hand. “Hi, you must be a friend of Melissa’s mom. I’m her Uncle Barry…”
Bart immediately found himself looking into the barrel of a very large handgun. Bart’s fast-talk didn’t work this time. The pistol was real. The bullet would be real. He didn’t know if he could out-dodge a bullet; it was a huge unknown to him. He froze. In slow-motion he watched the woman’s finger start to pull the trigger.
CHAPTER 9
“I’m dead,” thought Bart, still unable to move because the pistol was so close, so intimidating, so REAL. He closed his eyes and waited to hear the bang.
Instead he heard an angel’s small voice: “NEVER PLAY WITH GUNS!” as little Melissa shoved the woman’s hand and the gun out of her face and into the air. The gun went off.
Clark had picked up on Bart’s phony “Uncle Barry” story and arrived just as the bullet cleared the barrel. What he saw next was truly amazing.
Bart dislodged the gun from the woman’s hand and jumped into action. Before the bullet had moved an inch into the air, the teen had freed Melissa from the tether and shoved the toddler into Clark’s arms for safekeeping.
Bart then used some yellow “do not cross this line” tape to tie the kidnapper’s wrists and arms to the steering wheel. He wrapped some of the tape around the woman’s mouth and, almost as an afterthought, placed a bright orange traffic cone over the woman’s head.
“Sorry I was late,” apologized Clark as Bart returned to normal speed and walked over to his tall friend.
“No problem.” Bart took Melissa out of Clark’s arms and hugged her tightly. “What smart person told you to never play with guns, Melissa?”
“My daddy. He’s a policeman.” Melissa touched Bart’s spiked hair as if to test whether it was fake. “Are you really my Uncle Barry?”
“No Angel,” Bart responded softly, fully aware that Clark was grinning ear-to-ear at him. “But I do know where your mommy is. She sent me to find you. Would you like to see your mommy?
“Yeah! MY REAL mommy!”
“Hold on tight.” Bart turned around to protect his passenger and started running backward toward the beach.
Clark took one more look at the convertible with its ridiculous-looking driver with the orange cone on her head, then jogged after Bart.
“Miami Beach here we come again,” said Clark, still in marvel of Bart’s actions. “Are you ready for us?”
TO BE CONTINUED...
CHAPTER 10
Since little Melissa was the daughter of one of their own, the Miami Police Department was in no hurry to question Clark and Bart about the rescue. The kidnapper had been found, just as the two boys said, with her arms tied to the steering wheel and the orange traffic cone still on her head like a dunce cap.
“The suspect is under arrest,” the police sergeant announced to the waiting crowd at the beach and a cheer went up.
And, much to Clark and Bart’s chagrin, the crowd turned and applauded the two boys. They both stared down at the sand and slowly moved around to stand behind the police car which held Melissa and her mother.
The sergeant followed them and spoke to them privately. “Turns out that woman has a rap sheet as long as my arm. Kidnapping is a definite violation of her probation. She’ll be back in jail in a flash and will stay there for a long time.”
“That’s great,” answered Clark, not looking up, still trying to blend in with the beach. Another, new scenario went through his mind: “ RING. RING. Mom? Dad? It’s me again. Yes, I’m STILL in Miami. Yes, that really was me on the six o’clock news. Oh, EVERYBODY saw me? Do you guys have a problem with that? Say Mom, did Lana see me?"
Bart leaned over and peeked into the police car. Melissa’s mother, her face still streaked with tears, looked up at him and mouthed the words she had said to him a dozen times earlier after he had placed her daughter back into her arms, “Thank you.” She smiled and Bart flashed a genuine smile in return.
“We’re waiting for her father to show up,” the sergeant told them. “His E.T.A. is about ten minutes. He wants to thank you two personally.”
“Not really necessary,” offered Clark. “My friend was just in the right place at the right time.”
“Oh, and there’s a reward," added the sergeant. "The local Crime Watch group posted it almost immediately.”
Bart appeared between Clark and the sergeant. “Reward? Did you say REWARD? How much?”
“Excuse us for a minute,” said Clark as he grabbed Bart by the shoulder and drug him off to the side for a little heart-to-hustler talk. “What do you think you are doing?’
“Dude, there’s a reward!” protested Bart. “It’s honest money! What’s your beef?”
“I can’t believe you! It’s just not right! Let’s just get out of here before the news crews show up.”
Bart chuckled. “That WOULD be hard for you to explain, huh, Stretch?” Then Bart frowned. “Listen to me, Clark. I survive on the streets the best I can. Somebody offers me money, a reward, a booby prize, stick of gum, WHATEVER, I’ll take it. I have to look out for ME.”
“News flash, Flash: it’s NOT about YOU.” Clark felt his words fall on deaf ears.
But Bart’s feelings were bouncing all over the place. Still, he told Clark what he had told many others before.
“Dude, let me tell you how it is. ME first. MYSELF second. And, if there’s anything left, I’LL take it.”
Clark was going to respond but Bart disappeared. Clark spotted him walking toward the sergeant, who was now sitting in his patrol car.
“Sergeant?” said Bart as he stuck his face partially through the car’s window, “about that reward.”
It was then that Bart spotted the box of Krispy Crème donuts on the car seat next to the sergeant. From the aroma, the starving teen could tell the donuts were still warm and fresh.
“Now sergeant, about that reward business…”
Clark, meanwhile, was still hiding. He would occasionally peek at Melissa and her mother, enjoying the special extended reunion the two shared. He had seen that loving look in his own mother’s eyes, the second he walked through the door of the Kent farmhouse upon his return from his Red-K nightmare in Metropolis. He felt a twinge of homesickness.
Suddenly, Bart appeared next to him holding a box of donuts. He motioned with his eyes that it was time to leave.
Clark looked down at the box and laughed. “Donuts?”
Bart shrugged and grinned. “My reward. You happy NOW Mr. Boy Scout? I‘M happy.”
A second later, future-Justice-Leaguers Clark Kent and Bart Allen disappeared from Miami Beach and headed north back to Daytona.
CHAPTER 11
Clark was amazed to see how many donuts Bart could finish in just the time it took the Kryptonian to finish one. “I’m sure glad I don’t have his metabolism,” thought Clark. He ran his tongue over his top teeth to taste the last sweetness of the glazed donut Bart had given him, part of his “reward”.
“I can’t believe he chose a box of donuts over a cash reward,” marveled Clark, but then Bart Allen was full of surprises.
At times, Bart reminded him of young mind-reader Ryan, but mostly, he thought of Bart as one of a kind: kind of a lost soul with screwed-up priorities. In other words, Clark could relate!
Clark gladly accepted the bottle of water Bart bought for him at the snack wagon. Bart had ordered up six hotdogs. He mentally figured that the purchases would leave the two boys with a total of seventy-five cents.
Clark noticed a girl near Albert’s snack wagon was staring at him, almost as if she knew who he was. He flashed her his biggest, friendliest smile. It was so easy for him to respond to people when they DIDN’T know who he was. “Someday I’ll have to try a disguise,” mused Clark, “call myself SUPER-STRETCH or some such thing.”
“Thanks for the water,” he told Bart. “And, I figure we have about half an hour left before we have to head home.”
Bart nodded, not pausing between bites to speak.
“How many hotdogs can he eat in one day?" Clark asked the vendor.
“He’s my best customer,” said Albert with a chuckle.
To Clark, this meant Bart frequented this beach often, but who could blame him? Clark walked closer to the water and sat down on the sand to finish his drink. The whole beach scene was intoxicating: exciting yet calming at the same time. The lapping waves, the clatter of vehicles driving up and down the beach, laughter, airplanes flying overhead with banners trailing behind them like big billboard signs, and, all the swimsuit clad “natives“ and tourists.
Of all, Clark liked the sunshine the best. Who could know that moving just a little closer to the earth‘s equator could FEEL so good. He laid back on the sand, crossed his ankles and laced his fingers behind his head. He was so relaxed in the sunshine, the wonderful sunshine. Clark closed his eyes.
Meanwhile, Bart finished his last hotdog and power drink. He looked down at the three silver quarters in his hand and sighed. He hated being broke. He found himself lamenting when he thought of all the mansions he and Clark had passed while they were racing up the beach. Mansions with rich people in them with things he could steal and pawn.
“But I can‘t pull a heist with Mr. Boy Scout along,” realized Bart. “Oh well, opportunity will knock. It always does.”
Bart sat down and was checking out the soles of his feet for any wear and tear when he noticed a crowd gathering over where he knew Clark had stretched out on the beach. “Okay, what’s Clark up to now?” he asked himself, trying not to get too annoyed. “That boy just can’t seem to keep things simple!”
He sped over to the crowd and pushed his way through. “Dang!” he gasped when he saw Clark was floating on his back about five feet off the beach. “Clark, you continue to amaze me,” thought Bart.
He opened his mental file again and recorded this note: “Clark can float as well as speed”. But why was the farm boy from Smallville making such a public exhibition of himself?
“He’s asleep,” whispered a woman in the crowd. Bart moved closer and discovered it was TRUE, Clark WAS asleep.
“Dang,” repeated Bart. Then he heard “the knock”. Bart raced back to the snack wagon and returned with a paper cup with his three quarters in it.
“Shhh!” Bart instructed the crowd. “She’s right. He’s asleep and, for a little donation of your spare change or a dollar or two or twenty,” Bart shook the cup to make the coins rattle, “I’ll tell you HOW he does it.”
For a little added drama, Bart waved his hands between Clark and the beach and would disappear and appear sitting Indian-style on the beach directly under the floating Clark. “Shh!” said Bart and held a finger to his lips.
“How do you guys DO that?” asked a totally amazed spectator who was the first to stuff a dollar in the paper cup.
“Everybody feed the kitty and I’ll tell you,” repeated Bart, shaking the cup and grinning like a cat himself.
As soon as he felt he’d milked the crowd for as much money as he could, Bart waved his arms at super speed to create a weak vacuum under Clark and the sleeping youth floated back down onto the beach.
Bart then turned to the crowd and bowed. “It’s MAGIC!” he announced and the crowd dissipated with a few laughs and groans and whistles.
“What fools!” Bart sat down beside Clark and started counting the money. “Umm, not bad,” he said aloud. “Thanks Clark!”
“Hmm?” answered Clark as he rubbed his eyes and yawned. “What time is it?”
“Time for you and I to hit the showers.”
Clark sat up. “Good idea. I have sand... in places... I didn’t even know sand could get to.”
Bart laughed. “I know the feeling.”
TO BE CONTINUED...
EPILOGE
The two teens zipped into a nearby resort hotel with outdoor showers near the pool area. At top speed, it only took seconds to wash all the sand and salt water off.
After Clark made a return visit to the nearby phone booth to change back into his jeans and flannel, the two stood side by side back near the Atlantic Ocean, staring out at the horizon.
“Too bad this has to end,” sighed Clark.
“Told ‘ya. It’s a big world.”
“But my world is small, as in Smallville.”
“Okay, you lead the way this time.”
“Ahh, I can’t.” said Clark, sheepishly.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know the way home.”
Bart laughed and punched Clark in the arm. "Ouch," he gasped and made another mental note to never hit Clark again. “Then we'll go back together. Side by side.”
Clark sighed. “Then it’s good-bye Florida, hello Smallville.”
A cloud of sand rose and settled back unto the beach. Little did the two teens know that in the future, together, side-by-side, they would save the world many times over.
One of the tourists who had dropped a dollar into the paper cup earlier in the day, returned to the beach and was disappointed to find the two teens gone.
“Magic? Yeah, sure,” he thought, puzzled but not at all unhappy. “That was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. Wonder if they’ll be back tomorrow? I’d like to see THAT magic again!”
THE END
----- Added 4 Minutes later -----
Before somebody says it, yes I know there's a special place on Kryptonsite for fan fiction. Two things. #1 I didn't write it so I didn't want to post it there as if it was my own; #2 I don't intend to make a habit out of reposting fan fiction. Just a one time thing I found amusing. So before somebody calls me out, I know, I know, ;)
-M-