Scorch
5th May 2007, 17:44
Title: Baby Face (PG-13)
Author: Scorch
Email: Miss_Incognito3@hotmail.com
Rating: PG
Category: Humour
Summary: A short story from the point of Chloe's unborn baby.
Content: Chlex
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I'd be paying someone to type my fiction for me. I don't, so I'm doing the dirty work myself and making no profit in the process.
Distribution: NS, anyplace else, just ask and you shall receive.
Notes: I have no idea where this story came from. Enjoy!!
I'm bored. So painfully bored.
Seriously, I'm so bored I'm thinking of taking up knitting. I would, but there's no needles or wool because there's nothing to do. Think it's funny? Well it's not. You should try being in here.
I feel pretty, oh so pretty. I feel pretty and witty and liiiight...! God, I hate that song. I'm gonna find out who made it and kill them dead. That's right D E D. Dead as dead can be.
I would kill them, but I can't flipping get out because there's no escape route as there's naff all in here but me, myself, and I. This must be what insanity feels like. There's gotta be something, anything, to do.
"Hello, Baby." Ahh, my dear, darling mother. What does she want now? I hope she doesn't make me play with that damn light again. I'm a baby, not a freaking gymnast.
"And how is you today?" How does she think I am? Happy? Please. The happy people have something to do.
Oh no. Oh hell no. It's that light again. I will not chase it. I will not chase it. I will not... What the hell.
Weeeeee!! C'mere you, when I get my hands on you... Ack. It's gone. Why does she do that to me? Give me something to play with then take it away? How mean can one person be, I ask.
Shocking, truly shocking.
"Daddy will be home soon." And then what? I gotta suffer you two argue some more on what to call me. I don't want to be called Dylan, Alexander, Joseph, or and this name really makes me cringe, Gabriel. I mean, seriously. Do I look like an angel to you?
It's so funny cus they think I'm a boy. Heeheee!
A quick slip of my arm, a twist of umbilical cord, and voila! Won't they get a shock? Mmmwahaha!
Hey, they wanted me. They deserve all they get. Besides, if they knew I was a girl, they'd be buying up every shirt with slogans on saying Daddy's Little Girl, or something equally schmalzty.
Over my cold and lifeless fingers will I wear anything like that. Oh come on. Would you go around wearing stuff worthy of the Sugar Plum Fairy? Didn't think so.
I'm simply far too cool for that. Me? I'm gonna be a Hell's Angel. There's a Harley D with my name, if I had one, alllllll over it.
Besides, what's with all the buying of stuff anyway? Not like I can wear it because I can't get out too wear it. It seems like a waste of money to me. Then again, anything spent on me could never be a waste of money. Cus hello, it's me.
"We're going to see you today."
Huh? Did she just say what I think she did? Oh man. Gimme a break. I would sigh in exasperation if I could. I suppose if I want a career as a gorgeous Hollywood starlet, then I better get used to performing for the camera.
Heh! Maybe I should play Bounce on Mom's kidney again. Someone oughta tell her cussing around a minor is frowned upon in civilised society. Can't wait to see the look on her face when I say my first word, which is gonna be Shitfuckdamn, whatever that means.
"That's right. We're going to get a full 3D scan of you today. We're going to listen to your heart beat and I'm gonna watch Daddy as he tries not to cry."
How can they possibly find that interesting? It's a heart beat. It goes tub-thump, tub-thump, tub-thump. Or tubba-thumpa, tubba-thumpa, tubba-thumpa whenever I'm playing with her bladder. It's still just a heart beat.
She has one and lemme just say it drives me nuts. Sounds like Krakatoa farting or something.
Oh God. Did she just say 3d scan? Doesn't sound good. Does that mean I won't be able to keep my gender a secret no more? Great. Here come the schmaltzy shirts and pretty clothes.
There has to be someway to get out of this. Maybe dad will work late and they'll have to cancel, which will give me more time to figure out what to do. Ooh! Or maybe, just maybe, the machine will break down and they'll have to go home.
Unless... Nah, it'll never work. Will it? Hmm.
If I can just slide this unbilical cord here, move my leg up a tad... Heh heh heh! It just might work. Only one way to find out.
"You're active today." She's rubbing me now. Hey, hey. Hands off the hair. Go on. Shoo! Go rub your own head. She's not leaving me alone.
She wants to play it like that? Fine. Bring it on.
Ha! Take that and that and that and that. Yeah! Mess with the best, die like the rest. Booyah! You touch the hair, I hit a kidney.
Aw man. Here comes the patting. What does she think I am? A dog? Do you hear me going woof woof? Let's see how she likes a little patting.
I do so love hammering out a good rock tune. I can thank dad for that. Mom makes me listen to classical crap, says it helps us bond. Bond? I live in her gut. How close does she want us to be? God, that woman can be so annoying sometimes, what with all the patting and the rubbing and the light chasing.
Then again, if it hadn't been for her irritating me, I'd be bored as hell. Mothers, eh? Can't live with em, can't live without em. At least she doesn't make me tidy this place up, not that I can tidy this place up because there's nothing here.
Not going back there. Nosiree. It's too miserable when I think of my empty little prison. Sure, it's warm and cosy and soft, but crikey. Boring isn't in it.
"I wonder if I have time to sneak a coffee before daddy comes home."
Did she say coffee? Oh! The rapture! After living off of juice and decaf, with the odd glass of fortified wine now and again, for the last ever, a coffee wouldn't half go down a treat. Yeah mom, go for it! Make it hot and black and sweet. Oh yeah, that's the stuff dreams are made of. Have I mentioned how much I love my mom?
"He'd probably smell it on my breath."
Here come the second thoughts. Ya know, most people have a rain dance. Me? I have a coffee dance and it goes a little something like this...
A humma-humma-humma, a humma-humma-humma. Say it with me. A humma-humma-humma, a humma-humma-humma. Add in the punches and the kicks, and you got yourself the next American tribal dance.
"Alright!" She practically yells. "Just a small cup though, but not black and not too much sugar."
Black or white, milk or cream, who freaking cares?! I got what I wanted. Man, I'm good. I wonder if it'll work with a trip to Bermuda. A Bermuda-Bermuda-Bermuda... Doesn't have the same ring to it. Oh well. Unless I hess a hyphon in there. A Ber-mu-da, a Ber-mu-da, a Ber-mu-da.
Nope. I'm still in the land where time doesn't exist.
Maybe if I click my heels three times and say the magic words. Here goes...
There's no place like Bermuda, there's no place like Bermuda, there's no place like Bermuda.
Nothing. Zip. Nadda. Damn her. How hard can it be to pack a bag or two and make a run for it? Dad's loaded, and I mean really loaded. He has enough moulah to keep me in gormet baby food forever, so surely she can bum a few bucks for a long weekend in Bermuda.
But do I really wanna go to Bermuda anyway? What is there to do there? Probably nothing. Maybe Disneyland would be a better choice. Let's see. Disneyland, the place full of irritating parents and screaming kids?
Hey, maybe dad can send them to Bermuda while we go to Disneyland. And maybe the Toothfairy can drop a Harley in here.
"I'll make you a deal, Baby." A deal, huh? You have my attention. "You stop with the hell on intestines and I'll get a coffee."
Lemme think about that for a second... No... Unless, I stop until she has the coffee, then start again. She didn't give me a time limit, did she? Her own fault for not going over the specifics.
That's another thing I can thank dad for. My keen sense of deal making. It's quite simple, really. Mom gives me what I want and I quit playing bongos on her ribcage. Of course, I only quit until I get bored again, which is like every ten minutes.
I also got things to thank mom for. My curiosity. When I first saw that odd shaped object below me, I just had to find out what it was. I'm only a baby, how was I to know it was her bladder? Oh, the fun I had poking it.
She cussed like a sailor, which naturally made me poke it all the more. She got told off by dad and guess what? She swore some more. I tell ya, that woman has an exceptionally extensive vocabulary.
Ahh. The sweet smell of caffeine. Urgh. That's a tad too sweet for my liking. Nope. Don't want. Don't you dare drink it, mom. I swear on all things holy, you'll be sorry if you drink it.
How about a spot of tea? Yeah, tea would be good right about now. Not the chamomile. Aren't you listening to me? I said not the chamomile. I want an ordinary cup of tea, no fuss or muss.
It's so annoying when she goes into a cafe and asks for something to drink. She asks for a Coke, then gets a bunch of questions. Diet Coke, caffeine free Coke, diet caffeine free Coke, cherry Coke, diet cherry Coke, diet caffeine free cherry Coke.
It's like the Spanish Secret Police if they came armed with pastries and plastic spoons.
"Look, Baby. Uncle Clark's come to see us."
He's hovering outside the window. I can play Knick Knack Paddywack with my gums. Flying is simply not impressive after that.
The window is open now and he's floating in. "Hi Chlo, hi Baby." He's smiling. Why is he smiling? Oh yeah, he has something to do. Lucky him. "I have a message from Lex. The computer system has crashed at the plant and he says to meet you at the doctor's."
Aw man. So damn close of getting out of that scary scan thing.
"And he sent you to escort me, right?" She's laughing, and God, does she even know what it's like when she laughs? Well, I'll tell ya.
It's like a massage chair on crack. I really wish she wouldn't laugh so much. It makes me wanna pee. If I gotta go, then she's going with me.
"He's just worried about you and Baby."
That's the second time he's referred to me as Baby. Oh God, what if that's my name? Please let it not be my name. Oh man, oh man.
"You okay Chlo? It's not the baby, is it?"
It? I'm an It now?
"I'm fine, Clark. Really. He's been like this all day."
"Active little guy, huh?" Maybe I should stop pretending to be a boy. It's giving me a complex. He's reaching down to me. Pat me, boy, and I'll bite you.
"Wow! He's really going for it."
Going for what? Gold? Ooh, I wonder if there is gold around here. Let's have a looky-loo. None under the right kidney, or the left. Damn. I thought my luck was in there. Oh well. Bet dad's got gold hidden in his safe.
If dad happened to die from unnatural causes, like death by me, would I get the gold? Worth looking into. Oh come on. If there was gold in it for you, wouldn't you dream of ways to get it?
Mom does sometimes. She says to dad she's gonna run away with the bank details and credit cards and buy herself a big, giant boat. Not on my watch. I don't like boats. They make me nauseous. She prays a lot after she does that, and dad goes weird too. His voice goes pretty high for a while and it's worse than fingernails down a board.
Mom usually ends up with a bit of pretty after that. Of course, it's never for me. Because, ya know, it's all about mom. The mother of his child, the love of his life, the apple of his beady little eye. God, it's almost enough to make me sick, and it often does.
Can't they just shake hands and be done with it? Honestly, all that cuddling and schmoozing shouldn't happen. Would you like to know what your parents do behind closed doors? Thought not.
"You ready, Chlo?"
"Sure, lemme go pee and grab my coat."
It's scan time. I'll give you a million bucks if you don't go. I'll just tell dad it's for my college fund. He'll believe it. Hell, if he believes I'm a boy, he'll believe anything.
That man can be so gullible. He thought I was asleep once and then BAM! I kicked him in the teeth. Heh heh. Serves him right. I mean, really. What kind of eejat puts their face on a baby's foot?
He runs a super business, you'd think he'd have more sense.
What on Earth is that infernal noise? Oh yeah. The cellphone. It's playing Build Me up, Buttercup. How can a buttercup build anything? It's a buttercup. The only thing they build up are weeds.
Stupid song. I like rock music. Gimme some Alice Cooper and I'm well away. Especially if mom has some of that fortified wine. One glass of that and I'm Tinkerbell.
Ooh! Tinkerbell. That'd make a nice name don'tcha think? Nah. Me either. What about the name Dangermouse? Heh. I can see dad's face now.
He'd be quaking in his Armani's if he knew I called myself Dangermouse. His own fault. He collects the comics. What is it with boys and comics? Gimme Mr. Darcy and his ten thousand over Wolverine and I'm a happy camper.
Mom can be blamed for my venture into the land of tights and Pemberley.
Between mom and dad, I'm surprise I haven't got that disease. What's it called again? Oh yeah. Insanity. Wait a minute. Yes, I have insanity. It's expected since I don't have anything to do but think.
I'm a baby for heaven's sake, I'm not meant to think. It's damn well dangerous for me to think, but as previously stated, there's sod all else to do.
"How's Lois?"
I miss Aunt Lois. She hasn't been around much. We're not supposed to know, but Aunt Lois has been working hard to buy a surprise for mom and me, which I think is really nice. Of course, she's only doing it so she gets to be Godmother.
Don't tell mom, but I wish I lived in Aunt Lois gut. I'd get everything I want in there. Coffee, chocolate. You name it, I'd get it. Mom's too busy listening and following doctor's orders. Who is she?
A mom or a mouse?
"Lois is fine. We have an assignment revolving around a doctor taking kickbacks for bumping patients up the transplant list."
"Ah yes. Mr. Thomas Grady, chief of medicine at Metropolis General. Anything for the rich and donators. What have you got on him so far?"
"I'm not telling you. You're supposed to be resting, Chloe. You've only got a month or so before Baby comes."
Whoa, Nelly. What does he mean? Before Baby comes? I'm the baby. I can't come. I'm already here. I was brought here eight months ago. Okay, now I'm scared.
"I bet I know something you don't know."
Yeah, and I bet that something is to do with me coming.
Uncle Clark is staring at mom now. Hey, she's my mom, not yours. Get your own mom. "Please, tell me you haven't been working."
Forget the working, what about me? Are you people listening to me? Hey! How hard do I have to punch to get some attention around here? I wanna know what Uncle Clark meant.
"I haven't been working, I've just been keeping on top of things. And if this kid doesn't let up on my kidneys, I'll ground him. You hear me, Baby? You're grounded."
Is she threatening me? Lemme tell you what I think about threats.
"Ow, ow. Alright! I get it! No grounding!"
I've said it before and I'll say it again. Mess with the best, die like the rest. Now, back to the coming of me. Where am I supposed to come? I really don't like the sound of that. Maybe dad will tell me considering mom won't.
The way Uncle Clark says it sounds like I'm the second coming or something. Unless he's just playing with me. What a joker he is! When the baby comes! Ha! I fell for that one hook, line, and sinker. What can I say? I get the gullible side from dad.
Good one, Uncle Clark. Now for your next trick...
"Seriously, you're eight months pregnant. I hope you haven't been doing anything you shouldn't."
She was about to drink coffee before you came in. I'm a tattle tale, so sue me.
"I haven't. Honest."
Yeah, and I'm the King of Siam. Okay, the day you start thinking you really are a boy is the day you gotta stop pretending to be a boy. Unless I am a boy. This is paranoia at it's best.
Oh thank God. Two legs and two legs only. Talk about relief.
"I've just been, how shall I say, involved in the world around me."
"Chloe..."
"What?"
"You've got a baby on the way!"
I'm on the way where? Either Uncle Clark is joking again, or I'm going somewhere. I don't like those options. I'm happy where I am. Bored stupid, but happy. It's warm and soft and cosy, not to mention rent free. I get free food and drink. It's my home, damnit. I'm not going anywhere.
You here me, mom? You wanted me, you can't get rid of me now! Why would you want to get rid of me? I know I can be a pain sometimes, but is that any reason to let me go? I don't wanna go!
"I didn't mean to yell at you. Don't cry, Chloe. Please don't cry! Lex will kill me if he thinks I made you cry!"
"Don't be silly, Clark. You didn't make me cry. It's hormones. I cried at a stupid card commercial the other day, then cried when Lex made $150 million."
Hey! I cried at that, too! Of course, I cried cus it means more money for dad to spend on me! I can use dad's money to pay mom so she won't let me go.
"I think anyone would cry at making $150 million."
Speaking of dad, he's waiting at the entrance to the place housing that freaky deaky 3D scan thingy. I love my dad. He takes good care of mom and me. Always working to make enough money to keep a roof over our heads, food on the table, and...
Oh hell. Who am I kidding? He owns a castle for God's sake. A freaking castle! And nobody needs $150 million to put food on the table. Personally, I think he likes to make millions because he likes the smell of all that dough and he likes his Armani's tailor made. He likes money so much, that if he created a cologne, it'd be called Cashola.
Damn, do I not have a problem with that! As long as my Armani's get tailored, I don't care about his.
Mom and dad are kissing. Grossness. Uncle Clark looks like he agrees.
"How's my baby?"
I thought the patting and rubbing was over and done with. Guess I was wrong. Booyah! Another one bites the dust! That'll teach him to touch the hair. I would say play with your own, but hey, he's bald. He's so bald, I could see me in his head. Poor little thing.
"Chloe's says he's been active all day. She didn't look so good before we left, but I know her and I know she wouldn't tell you."
"I know her too, and that's why I asked you to come with her."
"I am here, you know."
That's right, mom. Give em what for.
"Yes, you are, and I'm ignoring that fact. Clark, did anything else happen? Was she sick? Was she in pain? Did you see anything wrong with the baby? Anything wrong with her?"
"No, no, no, no, and no again. Geez Lex, I'm an alien, not a walking x-ray machine."
Is anyone else seeing x-ray machines running round? I'm definitely gonna need a Disney story tonight. Walking x-ray machines. Eeek. Uncle Clark sure knows how to scare a baby.
"Right. Sorry. Are you sure you didn't see anything wrong?"
"Alright, we're going in now. Thanks for driving me over Clark. You and Lois coming over later to watch the video?"
Ooh! A movie. I wonder what it's gonna be. I hope it's one of those with the explosions and scenes of explicit violence and gore. God, I love a bit of carnage. That's quite worrying, actually. A few months old and already living vicariously through stars fulfilling my dreams of world domination.
What can I say? I'm a Luthor. Wow. Baby Luthor. That's meeee!
"I wouldn't miss it. Let me know how it goes."
"Thanks again for bringing her here. Oh and Clark? You might want to swing by crater lake. Tell me if you still get sick."
"I will. Thanks. Later."
And there goes Uncle Clark. Up, up, and away! Until the day he learns how to turn a kidney into a squeaky toy, I'll remain unimpressed. Mom and dad don't seem to be the same.
"He has got to show me how he does that."
"You're pregnant, Chloe. You can't fly, alien or not."
"If I was pregnant with an alien baby, I might."
"Joke about that again, and I'll spank you."
"If I was pregnant with an alien baby...!"
Oh! Don't do that, daddy! It makes mom laugh and makes me wanna go pee real bad!
"It's amazing what you're doing for Clark. Cleaning up all the meteor rocks so he doesn't get ill. I love you for it. How are the experiments going on them? Anything new to report?"
"What experiments?"
"Give me some credit."
"In order for me to know what makes him sick, I'll need a blood sample. Think he'll give one?"
"If you're honest and tell him you wanna know what's in them that makes him sick, sure, but be careful. Besides me, Clark is your best friend, and vice versa. I love you both, in different ways of course, and the last thing I want is you two falling out again. And that's if you can get one."
"He's under my protection."
"And do you know how much that means to me? To him?"
Stop laughing, mom! I can only hold it so long.
"I forget. You both belong to the male gene pool. The discussion of feelings is off limits."
"That calls for another spanking."
Too late. Oops! It's all this laughing. I bet mom is thanking the Gods pantyliners were invented. The humiliation of not being ready for big girl's pants must be awful. Can't you just hear my sympathy? No?
That's because I don't have any. Hey, she has no sympathy when I'm bored. Takes two to tango, or so dad said when I got here. I can't wait to hear what these two have to say about my conception. I wonder what it's gonna be.
No doubt dad will say I was made the same way cakes are made. A bit of this, a bit of that, and poof! A baby! Or maybe he'll say I was made the same way as his business. A few bucks here, a few bucks there, and voila! A baby!
Mom's explanation will be seriously funny. She's a reporter you know. One of the best, or so dad says. She'll probably say I'm like a lead. Follow the answers to a few questions and whaddya know? A baby!
Aunt Lois will say mom and dad did the funky chicken, and boom. A baby!
Not that I need the answer to how I got here, because I already know. A stork brought me. Don't believe me? Just ask Dumbo.
They often joke about telling me how I got here, debating on who is going to tell me. Some of what they say has me in hysterics. Like I'd believe a thing called sex has anything to do with it. I'm a baby, not an eejat.
Ooh. We're in the waiting room now and dad is giving something to mom. If she'd quit bugging me, she'd know what it is. God, there is more to life than me, ya know. Not.
I am the centre of the universe and the quicker people realise that, the better.
Oh! It's so pretty and shiny! Can I have it? It'd go perfectly with the umbilical cord. Speaking of the umbilical cord, it makes for a great swing. Skip, skip, skip to ma loo, skip to ma loo ma darlin...!
What? I got bored again. Dad's giving mom all his attention and she's giving him all hers. What about me, I ask. Aren't I here too? Guess there isn't more to life than me.
"Lex, you didn't have to buy me this."
"I know."
"You do I'll never wear it in public, right?"
"I know."
Doesn't it make you wanna barf?
"I wish you wouldn't buy me stuff like this. I can't afford to buy you things like this back."
"Chloe, you're my wife. What's mine is yours. Including my money."
And what's theirs is mine. Mine, I say, mine! I'm an only child, I don't think sharing will be in my reportoire.
"I'm not using your money to buy you a present."
"I also bought this for our son."
Oh man. Talk about things coming back to bite you in the tush, or ass as my mum calls it. Ass. I swore. Heehee!
It's a pale blue thing that's no bigger than my big toe. If they think I'm wearing that, they're sadly mistaken. The worst part of it? It says Man About the House.
I'm not a boy, damnit! I'm a girl. I suppose this is what Aunt Lois means by karmageddon. I should probably let mom and dad know I'm a girl. Still, it shows dad doesn't want me to go anywhere. I don't want to go either, dad.
"Is everything okay?"
"It's fine, just the hormones."
"And that's good reason to dry your eyes with my tie?"
"I don't have a tissue handy. Sorry."
"Not a problem. As long as you're okay."
"Mr and Mrs Luthor?"
Man, what a weird looking doctor. He reminds me of Mr. Majeka, with the white hair and the whiter ponytail. Damn, wish I could get a hold of those eyebrows. My hands are literally itching. If I can just...
No good. Her intestine is in the way. Have to move that first. Here we go. Operation Eyebrow here I come...
There's laughter and it isn't mom's. "He's certainly active today, you're also quite low. Have you been experiencing any back pain?"
Nothing to do with me, I swear. My arms aren't long enough to reach the back. Shame really, apparently there's a decent bit of bone which would make one cool toy.
"Only when I try to tie my shoes. Why?"
"Is that something to worry about?"
"Not at all. It's common during women about to give birth."
Give what now? Isn't giving birth what Ripley did in Alien? What does that have to do with me? This isn't of the good. Unless mom really is having an alien baby and it's in her chest. Nope. Can't see nothing. Can't feel nothing, either.
Hey! Maybe that's how Uncle Clark got here.
"You mean the baby could be premature? That's bad."
There's dad's voice. When he talks like that, it generally means he's not happy. At least we agree on something. This giving birth thing isn't a shiny occasion. What's a baby to do? Grief.
"The due date is given as a fail safe. A lot of babies are a few weeks late, or early. One or two weeks doesn't mean an unhealthy baby. Which is why you're here today. To see if everything is fine with the little one."
Why would anything be wrong with me? I'm cool as a cucumber. Probably cooler if the air conditioning in this place gets colder. Hasn't this doctor heard of central heating? Doesn't look like it. If his hair is anything to go by, he was probably alive in the ice age. It'd certainly explain the strange hair colour.
"I'll give you some privacy to change and get comfy before we start."
I hope by start, Doc Hollywood there means explaining something, cus I'm way beyond confused. 3D scans, me going somewhere, giving birth, alien babies, Man about the House clothes.
I oughta move out.
Author: Scorch
Email: Miss_Incognito3@hotmail.com
Rating: PG
Category: Humour
Summary: A short story from the point of Chloe's unborn baby.
Content: Chlex
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I'd be paying someone to type my fiction for me. I don't, so I'm doing the dirty work myself and making no profit in the process.
Distribution: NS, anyplace else, just ask and you shall receive.
Notes: I have no idea where this story came from. Enjoy!!
I'm bored. So painfully bored.
Seriously, I'm so bored I'm thinking of taking up knitting. I would, but there's no needles or wool because there's nothing to do. Think it's funny? Well it's not. You should try being in here.
I feel pretty, oh so pretty. I feel pretty and witty and liiiight...! God, I hate that song. I'm gonna find out who made it and kill them dead. That's right D E D. Dead as dead can be.
I would kill them, but I can't flipping get out because there's no escape route as there's naff all in here but me, myself, and I. This must be what insanity feels like. There's gotta be something, anything, to do.
"Hello, Baby." Ahh, my dear, darling mother. What does she want now? I hope she doesn't make me play with that damn light again. I'm a baby, not a freaking gymnast.
"And how is you today?" How does she think I am? Happy? Please. The happy people have something to do.
Oh no. Oh hell no. It's that light again. I will not chase it. I will not chase it. I will not... What the hell.
Weeeeee!! C'mere you, when I get my hands on you... Ack. It's gone. Why does she do that to me? Give me something to play with then take it away? How mean can one person be, I ask.
Shocking, truly shocking.
"Daddy will be home soon." And then what? I gotta suffer you two argue some more on what to call me. I don't want to be called Dylan, Alexander, Joseph, or and this name really makes me cringe, Gabriel. I mean, seriously. Do I look like an angel to you?
It's so funny cus they think I'm a boy. Heeheee!
A quick slip of my arm, a twist of umbilical cord, and voila! Won't they get a shock? Mmmwahaha!
Hey, they wanted me. They deserve all they get. Besides, if they knew I was a girl, they'd be buying up every shirt with slogans on saying Daddy's Little Girl, or something equally schmalzty.
Over my cold and lifeless fingers will I wear anything like that. Oh come on. Would you go around wearing stuff worthy of the Sugar Plum Fairy? Didn't think so.
I'm simply far too cool for that. Me? I'm gonna be a Hell's Angel. There's a Harley D with my name, if I had one, alllllll over it.
Besides, what's with all the buying of stuff anyway? Not like I can wear it because I can't get out too wear it. It seems like a waste of money to me. Then again, anything spent on me could never be a waste of money. Cus hello, it's me.
"We're going to see you today."
Huh? Did she just say what I think she did? Oh man. Gimme a break. I would sigh in exasperation if I could. I suppose if I want a career as a gorgeous Hollywood starlet, then I better get used to performing for the camera.
Heh! Maybe I should play Bounce on Mom's kidney again. Someone oughta tell her cussing around a minor is frowned upon in civilised society. Can't wait to see the look on her face when I say my first word, which is gonna be Shitfuckdamn, whatever that means.
"That's right. We're going to get a full 3D scan of you today. We're going to listen to your heart beat and I'm gonna watch Daddy as he tries not to cry."
How can they possibly find that interesting? It's a heart beat. It goes tub-thump, tub-thump, tub-thump. Or tubba-thumpa, tubba-thumpa, tubba-thumpa whenever I'm playing with her bladder. It's still just a heart beat.
She has one and lemme just say it drives me nuts. Sounds like Krakatoa farting or something.
Oh God. Did she just say 3d scan? Doesn't sound good. Does that mean I won't be able to keep my gender a secret no more? Great. Here come the schmaltzy shirts and pretty clothes.
There has to be someway to get out of this. Maybe dad will work late and they'll have to cancel, which will give me more time to figure out what to do. Ooh! Or maybe, just maybe, the machine will break down and they'll have to go home.
Unless... Nah, it'll never work. Will it? Hmm.
If I can just slide this unbilical cord here, move my leg up a tad... Heh heh heh! It just might work. Only one way to find out.
"You're active today." She's rubbing me now. Hey, hey. Hands off the hair. Go on. Shoo! Go rub your own head. She's not leaving me alone.
She wants to play it like that? Fine. Bring it on.
Ha! Take that and that and that and that. Yeah! Mess with the best, die like the rest. Booyah! You touch the hair, I hit a kidney.
Aw man. Here comes the patting. What does she think I am? A dog? Do you hear me going woof woof? Let's see how she likes a little patting.
I do so love hammering out a good rock tune. I can thank dad for that. Mom makes me listen to classical crap, says it helps us bond. Bond? I live in her gut. How close does she want us to be? God, that woman can be so annoying sometimes, what with all the patting and the rubbing and the light chasing.
Then again, if it hadn't been for her irritating me, I'd be bored as hell. Mothers, eh? Can't live with em, can't live without em. At least she doesn't make me tidy this place up, not that I can tidy this place up because there's nothing here.
Not going back there. Nosiree. It's too miserable when I think of my empty little prison. Sure, it's warm and cosy and soft, but crikey. Boring isn't in it.
"I wonder if I have time to sneak a coffee before daddy comes home."
Did she say coffee? Oh! The rapture! After living off of juice and decaf, with the odd glass of fortified wine now and again, for the last ever, a coffee wouldn't half go down a treat. Yeah mom, go for it! Make it hot and black and sweet. Oh yeah, that's the stuff dreams are made of. Have I mentioned how much I love my mom?
"He'd probably smell it on my breath."
Here come the second thoughts. Ya know, most people have a rain dance. Me? I have a coffee dance and it goes a little something like this...
A humma-humma-humma, a humma-humma-humma. Say it with me. A humma-humma-humma, a humma-humma-humma. Add in the punches and the kicks, and you got yourself the next American tribal dance.
"Alright!" She practically yells. "Just a small cup though, but not black and not too much sugar."
Black or white, milk or cream, who freaking cares?! I got what I wanted. Man, I'm good. I wonder if it'll work with a trip to Bermuda. A Bermuda-Bermuda-Bermuda... Doesn't have the same ring to it. Oh well. Unless I hess a hyphon in there. A Ber-mu-da, a Ber-mu-da, a Ber-mu-da.
Nope. I'm still in the land where time doesn't exist.
Maybe if I click my heels three times and say the magic words. Here goes...
There's no place like Bermuda, there's no place like Bermuda, there's no place like Bermuda.
Nothing. Zip. Nadda. Damn her. How hard can it be to pack a bag or two and make a run for it? Dad's loaded, and I mean really loaded. He has enough moulah to keep me in gormet baby food forever, so surely she can bum a few bucks for a long weekend in Bermuda.
But do I really wanna go to Bermuda anyway? What is there to do there? Probably nothing. Maybe Disneyland would be a better choice. Let's see. Disneyland, the place full of irritating parents and screaming kids?
Hey, maybe dad can send them to Bermuda while we go to Disneyland. And maybe the Toothfairy can drop a Harley in here.
"I'll make you a deal, Baby." A deal, huh? You have my attention. "You stop with the hell on intestines and I'll get a coffee."
Lemme think about that for a second... No... Unless, I stop until she has the coffee, then start again. She didn't give me a time limit, did she? Her own fault for not going over the specifics.
That's another thing I can thank dad for. My keen sense of deal making. It's quite simple, really. Mom gives me what I want and I quit playing bongos on her ribcage. Of course, I only quit until I get bored again, which is like every ten minutes.
I also got things to thank mom for. My curiosity. When I first saw that odd shaped object below me, I just had to find out what it was. I'm only a baby, how was I to know it was her bladder? Oh, the fun I had poking it.
She cussed like a sailor, which naturally made me poke it all the more. She got told off by dad and guess what? She swore some more. I tell ya, that woman has an exceptionally extensive vocabulary.
Ahh. The sweet smell of caffeine. Urgh. That's a tad too sweet for my liking. Nope. Don't want. Don't you dare drink it, mom. I swear on all things holy, you'll be sorry if you drink it.
How about a spot of tea? Yeah, tea would be good right about now. Not the chamomile. Aren't you listening to me? I said not the chamomile. I want an ordinary cup of tea, no fuss or muss.
It's so annoying when she goes into a cafe and asks for something to drink. She asks for a Coke, then gets a bunch of questions. Diet Coke, caffeine free Coke, diet caffeine free Coke, cherry Coke, diet cherry Coke, diet caffeine free cherry Coke.
It's like the Spanish Secret Police if they came armed with pastries and plastic spoons.
"Look, Baby. Uncle Clark's come to see us."
He's hovering outside the window. I can play Knick Knack Paddywack with my gums. Flying is simply not impressive after that.
The window is open now and he's floating in. "Hi Chlo, hi Baby." He's smiling. Why is he smiling? Oh yeah, he has something to do. Lucky him. "I have a message from Lex. The computer system has crashed at the plant and he says to meet you at the doctor's."
Aw man. So damn close of getting out of that scary scan thing.
"And he sent you to escort me, right?" She's laughing, and God, does she even know what it's like when she laughs? Well, I'll tell ya.
It's like a massage chair on crack. I really wish she wouldn't laugh so much. It makes me wanna pee. If I gotta go, then she's going with me.
"He's just worried about you and Baby."
That's the second time he's referred to me as Baby. Oh God, what if that's my name? Please let it not be my name. Oh man, oh man.
"You okay Chlo? It's not the baby, is it?"
It? I'm an It now?
"I'm fine, Clark. Really. He's been like this all day."
"Active little guy, huh?" Maybe I should stop pretending to be a boy. It's giving me a complex. He's reaching down to me. Pat me, boy, and I'll bite you.
"Wow! He's really going for it."
Going for what? Gold? Ooh, I wonder if there is gold around here. Let's have a looky-loo. None under the right kidney, or the left. Damn. I thought my luck was in there. Oh well. Bet dad's got gold hidden in his safe.
If dad happened to die from unnatural causes, like death by me, would I get the gold? Worth looking into. Oh come on. If there was gold in it for you, wouldn't you dream of ways to get it?
Mom does sometimes. She says to dad she's gonna run away with the bank details and credit cards and buy herself a big, giant boat. Not on my watch. I don't like boats. They make me nauseous. She prays a lot after she does that, and dad goes weird too. His voice goes pretty high for a while and it's worse than fingernails down a board.
Mom usually ends up with a bit of pretty after that. Of course, it's never for me. Because, ya know, it's all about mom. The mother of his child, the love of his life, the apple of his beady little eye. God, it's almost enough to make me sick, and it often does.
Can't they just shake hands and be done with it? Honestly, all that cuddling and schmoozing shouldn't happen. Would you like to know what your parents do behind closed doors? Thought not.
"You ready, Chlo?"
"Sure, lemme go pee and grab my coat."
It's scan time. I'll give you a million bucks if you don't go. I'll just tell dad it's for my college fund. He'll believe it. Hell, if he believes I'm a boy, he'll believe anything.
That man can be so gullible. He thought I was asleep once and then BAM! I kicked him in the teeth. Heh heh. Serves him right. I mean, really. What kind of eejat puts their face on a baby's foot?
He runs a super business, you'd think he'd have more sense.
What on Earth is that infernal noise? Oh yeah. The cellphone. It's playing Build Me up, Buttercup. How can a buttercup build anything? It's a buttercup. The only thing they build up are weeds.
Stupid song. I like rock music. Gimme some Alice Cooper and I'm well away. Especially if mom has some of that fortified wine. One glass of that and I'm Tinkerbell.
Ooh! Tinkerbell. That'd make a nice name don'tcha think? Nah. Me either. What about the name Dangermouse? Heh. I can see dad's face now.
He'd be quaking in his Armani's if he knew I called myself Dangermouse. His own fault. He collects the comics. What is it with boys and comics? Gimme Mr. Darcy and his ten thousand over Wolverine and I'm a happy camper.
Mom can be blamed for my venture into the land of tights and Pemberley.
Between mom and dad, I'm surprise I haven't got that disease. What's it called again? Oh yeah. Insanity. Wait a minute. Yes, I have insanity. It's expected since I don't have anything to do but think.
I'm a baby for heaven's sake, I'm not meant to think. It's damn well dangerous for me to think, but as previously stated, there's sod all else to do.
"How's Lois?"
I miss Aunt Lois. She hasn't been around much. We're not supposed to know, but Aunt Lois has been working hard to buy a surprise for mom and me, which I think is really nice. Of course, she's only doing it so she gets to be Godmother.
Don't tell mom, but I wish I lived in Aunt Lois gut. I'd get everything I want in there. Coffee, chocolate. You name it, I'd get it. Mom's too busy listening and following doctor's orders. Who is she?
A mom or a mouse?
"Lois is fine. We have an assignment revolving around a doctor taking kickbacks for bumping patients up the transplant list."
"Ah yes. Mr. Thomas Grady, chief of medicine at Metropolis General. Anything for the rich and donators. What have you got on him so far?"
"I'm not telling you. You're supposed to be resting, Chloe. You've only got a month or so before Baby comes."
Whoa, Nelly. What does he mean? Before Baby comes? I'm the baby. I can't come. I'm already here. I was brought here eight months ago. Okay, now I'm scared.
"I bet I know something you don't know."
Yeah, and I bet that something is to do with me coming.
Uncle Clark is staring at mom now. Hey, she's my mom, not yours. Get your own mom. "Please, tell me you haven't been working."
Forget the working, what about me? Are you people listening to me? Hey! How hard do I have to punch to get some attention around here? I wanna know what Uncle Clark meant.
"I haven't been working, I've just been keeping on top of things. And if this kid doesn't let up on my kidneys, I'll ground him. You hear me, Baby? You're grounded."
Is she threatening me? Lemme tell you what I think about threats.
"Ow, ow. Alright! I get it! No grounding!"
I've said it before and I'll say it again. Mess with the best, die like the rest. Now, back to the coming of me. Where am I supposed to come? I really don't like the sound of that. Maybe dad will tell me considering mom won't.
The way Uncle Clark says it sounds like I'm the second coming or something. Unless he's just playing with me. What a joker he is! When the baby comes! Ha! I fell for that one hook, line, and sinker. What can I say? I get the gullible side from dad.
Good one, Uncle Clark. Now for your next trick...
"Seriously, you're eight months pregnant. I hope you haven't been doing anything you shouldn't."
She was about to drink coffee before you came in. I'm a tattle tale, so sue me.
"I haven't. Honest."
Yeah, and I'm the King of Siam. Okay, the day you start thinking you really are a boy is the day you gotta stop pretending to be a boy. Unless I am a boy. This is paranoia at it's best.
Oh thank God. Two legs and two legs only. Talk about relief.
"I've just been, how shall I say, involved in the world around me."
"Chloe..."
"What?"
"You've got a baby on the way!"
I'm on the way where? Either Uncle Clark is joking again, or I'm going somewhere. I don't like those options. I'm happy where I am. Bored stupid, but happy. It's warm and soft and cosy, not to mention rent free. I get free food and drink. It's my home, damnit. I'm not going anywhere.
You here me, mom? You wanted me, you can't get rid of me now! Why would you want to get rid of me? I know I can be a pain sometimes, but is that any reason to let me go? I don't wanna go!
"I didn't mean to yell at you. Don't cry, Chloe. Please don't cry! Lex will kill me if he thinks I made you cry!"
"Don't be silly, Clark. You didn't make me cry. It's hormones. I cried at a stupid card commercial the other day, then cried when Lex made $150 million."
Hey! I cried at that, too! Of course, I cried cus it means more money for dad to spend on me! I can use dad's money to pay mom so she won't let me go.
"I think anyone would cry at making $150 million."
Speaking of dad, he's waiting at the entrance to the place housing that freaky deaky 3D scan thingy. I love my dad. He takes good care of mom and me. Always working to make enough money to keep a roof over our heads, food on the table, and...
Oh hell. Who am I kidding? He owns a castle for God's sake. A freaking castle! And nobody needs $150 million to put food on the table. Personally, I think he likes to make millions because he likes the smell of all that dough and he likes his Armani's tailor made. He likes money so much, that if he created a cologne, it'd be called Cashola.
Damn, do I not have a problem with that! As long as my Armani's get tailored, I don't care about his.
Mom and dad are kissing. Grossness. Uncle Clark looks like he agrees.
"How's my baby?"
I thought the patting and rubbing was over and done with. Guess I was wrong. Booyah! Another one bites the dust! That'll teach him to touch the hair. I would say play with your own, but hey, he's bald. He's so bald, I could see me in his head. Poor little thing.
"Chloe's says he's been active all day. She didn't look so good before we left, but I know her and I know she wouldn't tell you."
"I know her too, and that's why I asked you to come with her."
"I am here, you know."
That's right, mom. Give em what for.
"Yes, you are, and I'm ignoring that fact. Clark, did anything else happen? Was she sick? Was she in pain? Did you see anything wrong with the baby? Anything wrong with her?"
"No, no, no, no, and no again. Geez Lex, I'm an alien, not a walking x-ray machine."
Is anyone else seeing x-ray machines running round? I'm definitely gonna need a Disney story tonight. Walking x-ray machines. Eeek. Uncle Clark sure knows how to scare a baby.
"Right. Sorry. Are you sure you didn't see anything wrong?"
"Alright, we're going in now. Thanks for driving me over Clark. You and Lois coming over later to watch the video?"
Ooh! A movie. I wonder what it's gonna be. I hope it's one of those with the explosions and scenes of explicit violence and gore. God, I love a bit of carnage. That's quite worrying, actually. A few months old and already living vicariously through stars fulfilling my dreams of world domination.
What can I say? I'm a Luthor. Wow. Baby Luthor. That's meeee!
"I wouldn't miss it. Let me know how it goes."
"Thanks again for bringing her here. Oh and Clark? You might want to swing by crater lake. Tell me if you still get sick."
"I will. Thanks. Later."
And there goes Uncle Clark. Up, up, and away! Until the day he learns how to turn a kidney into a squeaky toy, I'll remain unimpressed. Mom and dad don't seem to be the same.
"He has got to show me how he does that."
"You're pregnant, Chloe. You can't fly, alien or not."
"If I was pregnant with an alien baby, I might."
"Joke about that again, and I'll spank you."
"If I was pregnant with an alien baby...!"
Oh! Don't do that, daddy! It makes mom laugh and makes me wanna go pee real bad!
"It's amazing what you're doing for Clark. Cleaning up all the meteor rocks so he doesn't get ill. I love you for it. How are the experiments going on them? Anything new to report?"
"What experiments?"
"Give me some credit."
"In order for me to know what makes him sick, I'll need a blood sample. Think he'll give one?"
"If you're honest and tell him you wanna know what's in them that makes him sick, sure, but be careful. Besides me, Clark is your best friend, and vice versa. I love you both, in different ways of course, and the last thing I want is you two falling out again. And that's if you can get one."
"He's under my protection."
"And do you know how much that means to me? To him?"
Stop laughing, mom! I can only hold it so long.
"I forget. You both belong to the male gene pool. The discussion of feelings is off limits."
"That calls for another spanking."
Too late. Oops! It's all this laughing. I bet mom is thanking the Gods pantyliners were invented. The humiliation of not being ready for big girl's pants must be awful. Can't you just hear my sympathy? No?
That's because I don't have any. Hey, she has no sympathy when I'm bored. Takes two to tango, or so dad said when I got here. I can't wait to hear what these two have to say about my conception. I wonder what it's gonna be.
No doubt dad will say I was made the same way cakes are made. A bit of this, a bit of that, and poof! A baby! Or maybe he'll say I was made the same way as his business. A few bucks here, a few bucks there, and voila! A baby!
Mom's explanation will be seriously funny. She's a reporter you know. One of the best, or so dad says. She'll probably say I'm like a lead. Follow the answers to a few questions and whaddya know? A baby!
Aunt Lois will say mom and dad did the funky chicken, and boom. A baby!
Not that I need the answer to how I got here, because I already know. A stork brought me. Don't believe me? Just ask Dumbo.
They often joke about telling me how I got here, debating on who is going to tell me. Some of what they say has me in hysterics. Like I'd believe a thing called sex has anything to do with it. I'm a baby, not an eejat.
Ooh. We're in the waiting room now and dad is giving something to mom. If she'd quit bugging me, she'd know what it is. God, there is more to life than me, ya know. Not.
I am the centre of the universe and the quicker people realise that, the better.
Oh! It's so pretty and shiny! Can I have it? It'd go perfectly with the umbilical cord. Speaking of the umbilical cord, it makes for a great swing. Skip, skip, skip to ma loo, skip to ma loo ma darlin...!
What? I got bored again. Dad's giving mom all his attention and she's giving him all hers. What about me, I ask. Aren't I here too? Guess there isn't more to life than me.
"Lex, you didn't have to buy me this."
"I know."
"You do I'll never wear it in public, right?"
"I know."
Doesn't it make you wanna barf?
"I wish you wouldn't buy me stuff like this. I can't afford to buy you things like this back."
"Chloe, you're my wife. What's mine is yours. Including my money."
And what's theirs is mine. Mine, I say, mine! I'm an only child, I don't think sharing will be in my reportoire.
"I'm not using your money to buy you a present."
"I also bought this for our son."
Oh man. Talk about things coming back to bite you in the tush, or ass as my mum calls it. Ass. I swore. Heehee!
It's a pale blue thing that's no bigger than my big toe. If they think I'm wearing that, they're sadly mistaken. The worst part of it? It says Man About the House.
I'm not a boy, damnit! I'm a girl. I suppose this is what Aunt Lois means by karmageddon. I should probably let mom and dad know I'm a girl. Still, it shows dad doesn't want me to go anywhere. I don't want to go either, dad.
"Is everything okay?"
"It's fine, just the hormones."
"And that's good reason to dry your eyes with my tie?"
"I don't have a tissue handy. Sorry."
"Not a problem. As long as you're okay."
"Mr and Mrs Luthor?"
Man, what a weird looking doctor. He reminds me of Mr. Majeka, with the white hair and the whiter ponytail. Damn, wish I could get a hold of those eyebrows. My hands are literally itching. If I can just...
No good. Her intestine is in the way. Have to move that first. Here we go. Operation Eyebrow here I come...
There's laughter and it isn't mom's. "He's certainly active today, you're also quite low. Have you been experiencing any back pain?"
Nothing to do with me, I swear. My arms aren't long enough to reach the back. Shame really, apparently there's a decent bit of bone which would make one cool toy.
"Only when I try to tie my shoes. Why?"
"Is that something to worry about?"
"Not at all. It's common during women about to give birth."
Give what now? Isn't giving birth what Ripley did in Alien? What does that have to do with me? This isn't of the good. Unless mom really is having an alien baby and it's in her chest. Nope. Can't see nothing. Can't feel nothing, either.
Hey! Maybe that's how Uncle Clark got here.
"You mean the baby could be premature? That's bad."
There's dad's voice. When he talks like that, it generally means he's not happy. At least we agree on something. This giving birth thing isn't a shiny occasion. What's a baby to do? Grief.
"The due date is given as a fail safe. A lot of babies are a few weeks late, or early. One or two weeks doesn't mean an unhealthy baby. Which is why you're here today. To see if everything is fine with the little one."
Why would anything be wrong with me? I'm cool as a cucumber. Probably cooler if the air conditioning in this place gets colder. Hasn't this doctor heard of central heating? Doesn't look like it. If his hair is anything to go by, he was probably alive in the ice age. It'd certainly explain the strange hair colour.
"I'll give you some privacy to change and get comfy before we start."
I hope by start, Doc Hollywood there means explaining something, cus I'm way beyond confused. 3D scans, me going somewhere, giving birth, alien babies, Man about the House clothes.
I oughta move out.