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muppetwriter
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A couple of months or so ago, I asked everyone on the boards whether or not if they were fans of Scooby-Doo. I admitted that I wasn't much of a Scooby-Doo fanatic, but seeing as how I've collected several Scooby DVDs over the holidays, I must admit that I am a Scooby-Doo fanatic.
I'm so much of one, in fact, I've created another comic crossover series (just like I have with "The MARVELOUS Muppets") which puts the gang of Mystery Inc. in with the greatest heroes of "Detective Comics" (a.k.a. DC comics).
I plan on pitching this first story that I have for the series in another message board, but I first need some feedback from everyone here at Muppet Central before I do so. This story deals with Superman's origin, which is a strong homage to Richard Donner's version of the origin (in fact, I'm using his script to guide me).
Here's the first chapter:
In the heart of Metropolis, at the corner of Fifth Street and Concord Lane, lied the city’s greatest newspaper, the Daily Planet; it began publication in 1775, when George Washington wrote a guest editorial for the first daily edition. The Planet building’s most distinguishing and famous feature was the enormous, gold-plated globe that sat and revolved on top of it. While originally a “Great Metropolitan Newspaper,” the Planet had transcended its “humble” beginnings and become a national periodical, rivaling the likes of The New York Times and USA Today. It was spearheaded by publisher and editor-in-chief, Perry White, who had drawn the most talented and capable writers to his operation.
The Daily Planet was where four meddling teenagers (Fred “Freddie” Jones, Daphne Blake, Velma Dinkley, and Norville “Shaggy” Rogers) and their trustworthy Great Dane (Scooby-Doo) began a career in investigative journalism; these five characters (officially referred to collectively as “Mystery Inc.”) drove around the world in a van called the “Mystery Machine,” searching for impressive stories to put into the Planet’s newspaper.
Fred Jones was the leader of the group (and the Mystery Machine’s driver), who was a blonde, ascot-wearing, statuesque and brave youth; he was everything that the other male members of the group, Shaggy, wasn’t. Daphne Blake, who came from a wealthy family, was noted for her red hair, her fashion sense, and her catchphrase (“jeepers!”); she had a tendency to get into danger, hence the nickname “Danger-prone Daphne” made up by Fred. Velma Dinkley was the resident genius, making great use of her skills in such areas as reading Chinese, deciphering scientific formulae, operating communications equipment, and so forth; she sometimes had trouble keeping her glasses on, and she would go blind whenever they were lost, due to her nearsightedness—her catchphrase was usually “jinkies!” Shaggy Rogers embodied elements of both early-1960s beatnik and late-1960s hippie, dressing in his typical green t-shirt, bell-bottom pants, lanky, bushy brown hair, and a rough goatee; he frequently said “zoinks” (his catchphrase) whenever he was surprised or scared.
Then, of course, there was Scooby-Doo himself, who belonged to Shaggy (with whom he shared several traits, including tremendous appetites and tendencies towards cowardice); due to cowardice, he would often have to be bribed to go into action with “Scooby Snacks,” a biscuit-like dog treat. Though he could do something that dogs don’t often do (which was talk), he had some difficulty with pronunciation, tending to pronounce most words as if they began with an “R.” His catchphrase was always “Scooby-Dooby-Doo!”
The kids and Scooby were inside of the office of Perry White, who a no-nonsense, hard-working type of person that had a nicer side beneath his gruffness. Perry’s office was exactly that of a working editor: copies of Planet articles pinned up on bulletin boards, photos piled on the desk, wire service tear sheets, plaques, awards, signed photos on the walls, etc. The Mystery Inc. gang listened closely to Perry as he lectured them on their investigative journalism position at the Planet.
“You kids have been here in this business for nearly a year now, and what kinds of stories have you been coming up with?” asked Perry, and he picked up a newspaper copy, showing the front headline of the paper to them. “Look at this: ‘Miner Terrorizes Old Ghost Town’!” He picked up another copy. “This one’s just downright stupid: ‘Knight Seen Haunting Metropolis Museum’!” He picked up one last copy, while taking his lit Cuban cigar out of his mouth. “Oh, and this one really got me heated: ‘Local Carnival Sell Delicious Peanut Butter/Anchovy Pizza’!”
“Like, you’ve gotta admit it, chief,” Shaggy said, “Any kind of pizza like that should definitely be news.”
“Maybe for the ‘Emeril Gazette’, Rogers, but not for the Daily Planet!” Perry retorted.
“We’re sorry if the stories are so lousy, Mr. White.” Daphne said.
“Yeah, we’re just so use to solving supernatural mysteries in Coolsville that we can help but live for investigating stories like those here in Metropolis.” Fred stated.
“Well, you kids better learn to get your tails in gear, because you’re not working for some small-time newspaper in some low-budget atmosphere now.” Perry said. “You’re in the big leagues of the biggest newspaper in the city! You’ve got to find a story that’ll turn heads all over the world!”
“Aren’t the stories we’re publishing now turning heads?” Velma asked. “It’s not every day when you read about haunting knights, terrorizing minors…”
“Or peanut butter and anchovy pizza!” Shaggy added, and Scooby smacked his lips, getting hungry just hearing about the pizza.
“NO!!” bellowed Perry, pounding his fist hard on his desk and scaring the living daylights out of the Mystery Inc. gang. “What the public wants is a story that they can believe in; they don’t want something that they know right off the bat isn’t real!”
“In other words, Mr. White, you want the story of the century.” Fred said.
“Exactly.” affirmed Perry, and that’s when a mild-mannered man in his late-twenties entered the office, wearing a blue business suit, a red necktie, black-rimmed glasses, and combed-back hair. Perry and the Mystery Inc. gang was quick to notice the mild-mannered character that just walked in; they didn’t know it at that time, but their “story of the century” was standing right in that very room. “Can I help you?”
“U-Uh, yes, Mr. White.” The man remarked, walking past the Mystery Inc. gang and approaching Perry’s desk, accidentally bumping his right knee against the desk and creating a loud banging noise. “Ouch.” Scooby and the gang just shook their heads at the sight of the man, embarrassed for his geeky impressions. “My name is Clark Kent. I’m here for a position on the Daily Planet staff.”
“Nice to meet you, Cent.” Perry said.
“That’s Kent.” Clark corrected him, and Perry gave him a dumbfounded look.
“That’s what I said.” Perry contradicted.
“Uh, I believe you said…” Clark uttered, but before he could’ve finished, Fred walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Best to just let him have it.” Fred murmured, and Clark nodded in acknowledgement, just before Fred shook Clark’s hand. “Hey, Clark. My name’s Fred.”
“Oh, nice to meet you, Fred.” Clark said, just as he noticed Scooby in the room. “I wasn’t aware that they allowed dogs in the building.”
“Scooby’s more than just a dog, Mr. Kent; he’s a member of our own little family.” Daphne said, and Scooby was delighted to hear that. Of course, Perry White thought differently about that sentiment.
“But he’s really just a mascot.” Perry said, and an offended Scooby growled at him.
“Oh, I get it…” Clark said, “Scooby the Scooper.” Unfortunately, no one in the room seemed to have shared the same thoughts with Clark, which created an awkward silence that made Clark feel a bit sheepish. “Well, uh…” Clark cleared his throat, not seeming to have anything to say afterwards, so Perry broke the silence by going back to what he and the Mystery Inc. gang were discussing.
“Anyways, I want you kids to start going out there and finding some of the greatest stories you can.” Perry stated. “It’s like I always say: a good reporter doesn’t get the great stories…a good reporter makes them great.” After Perry said that, Lois Lane (a beautiful, bright, talented, and ambitious young woman with a wry sense of humor and a snappy reporter with an instinct for a big story) marched into Perry’s office with Jimmy Olsen (a fresh-faced young cub reporter who idolized Lois), laying her story on his desk.
“Here’s the story on that East 19th Street murder spree.” said Lois, with a cocky voice to go with her cocky attitude. “Page one with a banner headline seems about right to me.”
“So why would today be different.” Perry uttered.
“Hey, Lois, did ya meet our newest addition to the staff?” Fred inquired, gesturing towards Clark, who politely and friendly extended his hand.
“Hi, Lois.” He said. “I’m Clark Kent.”
“Hi, there.” She said, and she looked back at Perry, without first bothering to shake Clark’s hand, which he lowered. Daphne, feeling a bit of sympathy for Clark while observing his attempt to impress a fellow female staff member, approached him with a greeting that was a lot friendlier than his own.
“Mr. Kent?” Daphne said, and Clark turned to her, flashing a bright smile. “You might want to forgive someone as spunky as Lois is. She can come up with one heck of a story, but she fails miserably when it comes to welcoming newcomers.”
“Oh, I understand, Miss…?” Clark said, failing to remember Daphne’s name, which she hadn’t given to him.
“Blake. Daphne Blake.” She said, and the both of them shook hands, right before Perry beckoned Clark.
“Here, Kent. Open this, will you?” Perry handed Clark a pop bottle that he struggled vainly with to remove the screw-on top. Clark struggled with it mightily, while Lois was talking with Perry and the Mystery Inc. gang was observing him; but when it led to no avail, Fred stepped in.
“Here, Mr. Kent…Let me try.” offered Fred, taking the pop bottle from Clark. “I have an experience…”
“In weight-lifting and bench-pressing anything that’s twice his normal weight.” Velma said, finishing Fred’s statement, which surprised Fred a little.
“Wow, Velma.” Fred said. “How did you know that I was gonna say that?”
“It’s not like we haven’t heard it over twenty-seven thousand times already.” Velma remarked, as Fred tried to the pop bottle himself, but also had no luck; Lois turned her attention away from Perry for a moment.
“Let me see it, Fred.” Lois said, and she took the pop bottle from the straining Fred, rapped it sharply twice on the arm of a chair, and handed it back to Clark. “Here, try it now.” While Lois focused on Perry again, Clark once again tried to open the bottle cap; it opened, but suddenly fizzed out in a squirt from the agitation by Lois. The Mystery Inc. gang stared and tried to keep themselves from laughing, as Clark winced shyly as the liquid dribbled down his pants leg. Perry, Lois, and Jimmy also took notice to what just happened, and neither Lois nor Jimmy could resist a smile, but they sympathized.
“I’m sorry.” Lois told Clark. “I didn’t shake it up on purpose.”
“Of course you didn’t, Lois.” Clark said, nicely. “Why would anyone want a total stranger look like a fool?” Clark smiled and Lois looked back, unsure of how he meant that, as Perry took the bottle from Clark, only to realize that all of the liquid in it was gone. Perry, who was disappointed that he was cheated out of a beverage, slammed the empty bottle down on his desk and noticed how Jimmy was just standing around in his office.
“Olsen, I’m not paying you to just loiter in my office!” Perry shouted, angrily. “Go out and get some photos of…of…something!”
“Right, Chi…” acknowledged Jimmy, and before he could’ve said that one nickname that Perry just could not stand, Perry glared at him and caused him to rush out of the office. Perry turned his attention again to Clark and Lois, who were trying to get the soda stains off of Clark’s pants.
“Lois, take Kent out there and introduce him around. He’s coming to work for the paper.” Perry ordered. “I’m putting him on the city beat.” Lois wasn’t too happy with that news.
“My…beat?” Lois remarked.
“Hey, don’t sweat it, Lois.” Fred said. “The competition should do wonders for you.”
“We should know,” Velma added, “Considering the competition that we had to put up with from those investigative reporters at that other Daily business.”
“Lois, not only does Kent show proper respect for his editor-in-chief and not only does he have a snappy, punchy prose style, but I swear to you that after forty years in the business, he is the fastest typist I have ever seen.” Perry indicated, and Lois stared warily at Clark, whose sincere expression never changes.
“I’m sure I can learn a lot from you, Lois.” Clark said, and he handed Perry a piece of paper from his pocket. “Oh, and Mr. White, could you arrange for half my salary to be sent on a weekly basis to this address?”
“Oh, how sweet.” Daphne remarked. “You send a check every week to your dear old mother.”
“His grey-haired old mother.” Lois murmured, archly.
“Lois!” Daphne exclaimed.
“What? Eventually someone’s gonna find out the truth.” Lois told Daphne.
“Actually, she’s silver-haired.” Clark told Lois, in total sincerity. Lois just stared at him, completely stunned; he actually did send his mother money. Clark managed a pleasant smile, while Daphne folded her arms and showed off an arrogant grin towards Lois.
“Word of advice: no one likes a smarty, kid.” Lois uttered, and she turned back to Clark. “So, are there any more at home like you?”
“Not really, no.” Clark remarked.
Later in the day, when break time had arrived, Daphne agreed to go out into the city and show Clark around Metropolis. They both went down to the parking garage, beneath the Daily Bugle complex, and headed over to the Mystery Machine van that was parked there. While Daphne and Clark were walking towards the van, they were completely unaware of the mysterious figure that was spying on them from the shadows.
“I’m so glad Freddie finally decided to let me drive the van for a change.” Daphne said, as she took the van keys out of her purse and started tossing them around playfully.
“Your, uh…your van looks a little…peculiar.” Clark commented, noting the sixty-ish design on it.
“I know it looks a little retro,” Daphne said, “But who isn’t in a modern society like today.” Clark nodded in agreement with that idea; seeing the Mystery Machine’s design had almost brought him back to his teenage days in his Kansan hometown of Smallville. “So, Mr. Kent, what do you think of your first day on the job so far?”
“Well, meeting you, your friends, Jimmy, Mr. White, and Lois…on the whole, I think it’s swell.” Clark replied, and Daphne was taken by surprise over how far he seemed to be going back on the “retro meter.”
“Swell?” Daphne uttered.
“Is that bad?” Clark asked, and Daphne shook her head.
“Oh, no…it’s fine.” Daphne said. “It’s just that…there are very few people left in the world these days who sound comfortable saying an old-fashioned slang like that.”
“Really? It just sort of comes naturally to me.” Clark stated. “Kinda like ‘jeepers’ or ‘zoinks’ or even ‘jinkies’.” Daphne was extremely impressed by how much in common Clark Kent had with her and the Mystery Inc. gang.
“You sure it’s not Coolsville you’re from, Mr. Kent.” asked Daphne, and before Clark could’ve answered that question, he and Daphne both heard a voice from behind them, as they were right next to the van.
“Alright! Freeze! The both of you!” The voice demanded. “Turn around, nice and slowly!” Clark and Daphne did what the voice said, turning around as slowly as they could and coming face-to-face with a rough-looking mugger that stood behind them, with a pistol leveled at them.
“Jeepers!” Daphne exclaimed.
“This isn’t very swell at all.” Clark said, as he and Daphne were forced up against the side of the Mystery Machine, both looking very nervous.
“Hand me the purse, kid.” The mugger told Daphne, just before he got a real good look at the Mystery Machine. “And hand me the keys, too. I’m gonna need a getaway car, as soon as blow both of your butts away!”
“Oh, my! Will you really blow my butt away…in this skirt?” Daphne inquired.
“Um, you better just do as he says, Daphne.” A nervous Clark said, and Daphne fretted deeply over handing the two items to the mugger, thinking about what Fred might’ve thought if the Mystery Machine ended up being stolen.
“Ohhh…” She said, making the mugger even more impatient.
“Come on, kid.” The mugger said. “I haven’t got all day here.”
“Couldn’t you at least just take the van?” Daphne begged. “This is a genuine Goochie purse that I bought from the Metropolis Mall, only five years ago. Please don’t take it away from me now. It’s still in good condition.”
“That’s it!” The mugger exclaimed, and as he cocked the pistol, Daphne flinched with fear; that’s when Clark stepped in front of her, almost seeming to be protecting her.
“Listen, mister.” He said. “I realize times are tough for some these days, but this isn’t he answer.” There was great sincerity in Clark’s voice as he tried convincing the mugger. “You can’t solve society’s problems with a gun.”
“T-That’s right.” Daphne said. “Y-You might be the first to bring back peace and love.”
“Exactly.” Clark agreed. “You don’t want to hurt anyone, do you?”
“No…I don’t. And you know something? I’m turning over a new leaf.” The mugger replied, and Daphne & Clark were pleased for a brief moment, until the mugger shoved the pistol directly into Clark’s face. “Right after I blow your butts away!” He shoved Clark aside and aimed the gun directly at Daphne again. “Hand them over!” Daphne just stared at the keys and purse, again fretting over the decision to hand them over; that’s until a sudden idea popped in her head, and she threw the items down on the ground towards the mugger.
“Daphne! What are you doing?!” asked Clark, totally surprised, and he knew that she must’ve had a plan up her sleeve, judging by the way she was winking at him. When the mugger reached down to pick the keys and purse up, the damsel in distress that was once Daphne Blake had suddenly kicked him viciously in the face, sending him reeling backwards. The mugger hit the pavement, bringing up his gun with a deadly glare and aiming it right at a stunned Daphne, who realized the cause of her action and flinched again.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” Clark cried, rushing forward with his arms outstretched pleadingly as the mugger fired. What neither Daphne nor the mugger noticed was how the bullet hit Clark harmlessly in the palm of his hand; he closed his fist around it, just before his eyes bulged and he dropped to the ground, with a look of agonized astonishment as Daphne screamed.
“Mr. Kent! Oh, my gosh!” shouted Daphne, as the frightened mugger scrambled to his feet and ran off down the alley, while Daphne bent over Clark. “Mr. Kent! Mr. Kent! Are you…” Clark’s eyelids fluttered and then opened; with a sheepish smile, he looked up at the relieved Daphne. “Thank goodness! I thought you were killed!”
“Wow…I guess I must have fainted or something…” Clark said.
“I would’ve done the same thing.” Daphne said, and Clark got to his feet and dusted himself off, while Daphne picked up her keys and purse. “Humph! It’d be a dull day in Coolsville, before I give up my purse and the Mystery Machine to that creep.”
“Really, Daphne. Supposed that creep…I mean, man had shot you?” Clark asked. “Are they worth risking your life over a hairbrush, a lipstick, and compartment filled with five Snickers bars, Hershey bars, a bag of Lays, Burger King meals, and a half-eaten dog biscuit? I mean…”
“How in the world did you know that?” Daphne interjected, and Clark seemed to have become nervous again.
“Know what?” He asked.
“You just described two exact contents in my purse and several different contents that Shaggy and Scooby keep in their secret compartment in the Mystery Machine.” Daphne said, and Clark just paused and smiled.
“Wild guess.” He remarked, turning self-consciously and striding towards the other side of the van. “So are we still on for that tour?”
“Sure.” Daphne said, as she watched him curiously.
So what do you all think?
I'm so much of one, in fact, I've created another comic crossover series (just like I have with "The MARVELOUS Muppets") which puts the gang of Mystery Inc. in with the greatest heroes of "Detective Comics" (a.k.a. DC comics).
I plan on pitching this first story that I have for the series in another message board, but I first need some feedback from everyone here at Muppet Central before I do so. This story deals with Superman's origin, which is a strong homage to Richard Donner's version of the origin (in fact, I'm using his script to guide me).
Here's the first chapter:
In the heart of Metropolis, at the corner of Fifth Street and Concord Lane, lied the city’s greatest newspaper, the Daily Planet; it began publication in 1775, when George Washington wrote a guest editorial for the first daily edition. The Planet building’s most distinguishing and famous feature was the enormous, gold-plated globe that sat and revolved on top of it. While originally a “Great Metropolitan Newspaper,” the Planet had transcended its “humble” beginnings and become a national periodical, rivaling the likes of The New York Times and USA Today. It was spearheaded by publisher and editor-in-chief, Perry White, who had drawn the most talented and capable writers to his operation.
The Daily Planet was where four meddling teenagers (Fred “Freddie” Jones, Daphne Blake, Velma Dinkley, and Norville “Shaggy” Rogers) and their trustworthy Great Dane (Scooby-Doo) began a career in investigative journalism; these five characters (officially referred to collectively as “Mystery Inc.”) drove around the world in a van called the “Mystery Machine,” searching for impressive stories to put into the Planet’s newspaper.
Fred Jones was the leader of the group (and the Mystery Machine’s driver), who was a blonde, ascot-wearing, statuesque and brave youth; he was everything that the other male members of the group, Shaggy, wasn’t. Daphne Blake, who came from a wealthy family, was noted for her red hair, her fashion sense, and her catchphrase (“jeepers!”); she had a tendency to get into danger, hence the nickname “Danger-prone Daphne” made up by Fred. Velma Dinkley was the resident genius, making great use of her skills in such areas as reading Chinese, deciphering scientific formulae, operating communications equipment, and so forth; she sometimes had trouble keeping her glasses on, and she would go blind whenever they were lost, due to her nearsightedness—her catchphrase was usually “jinkies!” Shaggy Rogers embodied elements of both early-1960s beatnik and late-1960s hippie, dressing in his typical green t-shirt, bell-bottom pants, lanky, bushy brown hair, and a rough goatee; he frequently said “zoinks” (his catchphrase) whenever he was surprised or scared.
Then, of course, there was Scooby-Doo himself, who belonged to Shaggy (with whom he shared several traits, including tremendous appetites and tendencies towards cowardice); due to cowardice, he would often have to be bribed to go into action with “Scooby Snacks,” a biscuit-like dog treat. Though he could do something that dogs don’t often do (which was talk), he had some difficulty with pronunciation, tending to pronounce most words as if they began with an “R.” His catchphrase was always “Scooby-Dooby-Doo!”
The kids and Scooby were inside of the office of Perry White, who a no-nonsense, hard-working type of person that had a nicer side beneath his gruffness. Perry’s office was exactly that of a working editor: copies of Planet articles pinned up on bulletin boards, photos piled on the desk, wire service tear sheets, plaques, awards, signed photos on the walls, etc. The Mystery Inc. gang listened closely to Perry as he lectured them on their investigative journalism position at the Planet.
“You kids have been here in this business for nearly a year now, and what kinds of stories have you been coming up with?” asked Perry, and he picked up a newspaper copy, showing the front headline of the paper to them. “Look at this: ‘Miner Terrorizes Old Ghost Town’!” He picked up another copy. “This one’s just downright stupid: ‘Knight Seen Haunting Metropolis Museum’!” He picked up one last copy, while taking his lit Cuban cigar out of his mouth. “Oh, and this one really got me heated: ‘Local Carnival Sell Delicious Peanut Butter/Anchovy Pizza’!”
“Like, you’ve gotta admit it, chief,” Shaggy said, “Any kind of pizza like that should definitely be news.”
“Maybe for the ‘Emeril Gazette’, Rogers, but not for the Daily Planet!” Perry retorted.
“We’re sorry if the stories are so lousy, Mr. White.” Daphne said.
“Yeah, we’re just so use to solving supernatural mysteries in Coolsville that we can help but live for investigating stories like those here in Metropolis.” Fred stated.
“Well, you kids better learn to get your tails in gear, because you’re not working for some small-time newspaper in some low-budget atmosphere now.” Perry said. “You’re in the big leagues of the biggest newspaper in the city! You’ve got to find a story that’ll turn heads all over the world!”
“Aren’t the stories we’re publishing now turning heads?” Velma asked. “It’s not every day when you read about haunting knights, terrorizing minors…”
“Or peanut butter and anchovy pizza!” Shaggy added, and Scooby smacked his lips, getting hungry just hearing about the pizza.
“NO!!” bellowed Perry, pounding his fist hard on his desk and scaring the living daylights out of the Mystery Inc. gang. “What the public wants is a story that they can believe in; they don’t want something that they know right off the bat isn’t real!”
“In other words, Mr. White, you want the story of the century.” Fred said.
“Exactly.” affirmed Perry, and that’s when a mild-mannered man in his late-twenties entered the office, wearing a blue business suit, a red necktie, black-rimmed glasses, and combed-back hair. Perry and the Mystery Inc. gang was quick to notice the mild-mannered character that just walked in; they didn’t know it at that time, but their “story of the century” was standing right in that very room. “Can I help you?”
“U-Uh, yes, Mr. White.” The man remarked, walking past the Mystery Inc. gang and approaching Perry’s desk, accidentally bumping his right knee against the desk and creating a loud banging noise. “Ouch.” Scooby and the gang just shook their heads at the sight of the man, embarrassed for his geeky impressions. “My name is Clark Kent. I’m here for a position on the Daily Planet staff.”
“Nice to meet you, Cent.” Perry said.
“That’s Kent.” Clark corrected him, and Perry gave him a dumbfounded look.
“That’s what I said.” Perry contradicted.
“Uh, I believe you said…” Clark uttered, but before he could’ve finished, Fred walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Best to just let him have it.” Fred murmured, and Clark nodded in acknowledgement, just before Fred shook Clark’s hand. “Hey, Clark. My name’s Fred.”
“Oh, nice to meet you, Fred.” Clark said, just as he noticed Scooby in the room. “I wasn’t aware that they allowed dogs in the building.”
“Scooby’s more than just a dog, Mr. Kent; he’s a member of our own little family.” Daphne said, and Scooby was delighted to hear that. Of course, Perry White thought differently about that sentiment.
“But he’s really just a mascot.” Perry said, and an offended Scooby growled at him.
“Oh, I get it…” Clark said, “Scooby the Scooper.” Unfortunately, no one in the room seemed to have shared the same thoughts with Clark, which created an awkward silence that made Clark feel a bit sheepish. “Well, uh…” Clark cleared his throat, not seeming to have anything to say afterwards, so Perry broke the silence by going back to what he and the Mystery Inc. gang were discussing.
“Anyways, I want you kids to start going out there and finding some of the greatest stories you can.” Perry stated. “It’s like I always say: a good reporter doesn’t get the great stories…a good reporter makes them great.” After Perry said that, Lois Lane (a beautiful, bright, talented, and ambitious young woman with a wry sense of humor and a snappy reporter with an instinct for a big story) marched into Perry’s office with Jimmy Olsen (a fresh-faced young cub reporter who idolized Lois), laying her story on his desk.
“Here’s the story on that East 19th Street murder spree.” said Lois, with a cocky voice to go with her cocky attitude. “Page one with a banner headline seems about right to me.”
“So why would today be different.” Perry uttered.
“Hey, Lois, did ya meet our newest addition to the staff?” Fred inquired, gesturing towards Clark, who politely and friendly extended his hand.
“Hi, Lois.” He said. “I’m Clark Kent.”
“Hi, there.” She said, and she looked back at Perry, without first bothering to shake Clark’s hand, which he lowered. Daphne, feeling a bit of sympathy for Clark while observing his attempt to impress a fellow female staff member, approached him with a greeting that was a lot friendlier than his own.
“Mr. Kent?” Daphne said, and Clark turned to her, flashing a bright smile. “You might want to forgive someone as spunky as Lois is. She can come up with one heck of a story, but she fails miserably when it comes to welcoming newcomers.”
“Oh, I understand, Miss…?” Clark said, failing to remember Daphne’s name, which she hadn’t given to him.
“Blake. Daphne Blake.” She said, and the both of them shook hands, right before Perry beckoned Clark.
“Here, Kent. Open this, will you?” Perry handed Clark a pop bottle that he struggled vainly with to remove the screw-on top. Clark struggled with it mightily, while Lois was talking with Perry and the Mystery Inc. gang was observing him; but when it led to no avail, Fred stepped in.
“Here, Mr. Kent…Let me try.” offered Fred, taking the pop bottle from Clark. “I have an experience…”
“In weight-lifting and bench-pressing anything that’s twice his normal weight.” Velma said, finishing Fred’s statement, which surprised Fred a little.
“Wow, Velma.” Fred said. “How did you know that I was gonna say that?”
“It’s not like we haven’t heard it over twenty-seven thousand times already.” Velma remarked, as Fred tried to the pop bottle himself, but also had no luck; Lois turned her attention away from Perry for a moment.
“Let me see it, Fred.” Lois said, and she took the pop bottle from the straining Fred, rapped it sharply twice on the arm of a chair, and handed it back to Clark. “Here, try it now.” While Lois focused on Perry again, Clark once again tried to open the bottle cap; it opened, but suddenly fizzed out in a squirt from the agitation by Lois. The Mystery Inc. gang stared and tried to keep themselves from laughing, as Clark winced shyly as the liquid dribbled down his pants leg. Perry, Lois, and Jimmy also took notice to what just happened, and neither Lois nor Jimmy could resist a smile, but they sympathized.
“I’m sorry.” Lois told Clark. “I didn’t shake it up on purpose.”
“Of course you didn’t, Lois.” Clark said, nicely. “Why would anyone want a total stranger look like a fool?” Clark smiled and Lois looked back, unsure of how he meant that, as Perry took the bottle from Clark, only to realize that all of the liquid in it was gone. Perry, who was disappointed that he was cheated out of a beverage, slammed the empty bottle down on his desk and noticed how Jimmy was just standing around in his office.
“Olsen, I’m not paying you to just loiter in my office!” Perry shouted, angrily. “Go out and get some photos of…of…something!”
“Right, Chi…” acknowledged Jimmy, and before he could’ve said that one nickname that Perry just could not stand, Perry glared at him and caused him to rush out of the office. Perry turned his attention again to Clark and Lois, who were trying to get the soda stains off of Clark’s pants.
“Lois, take Kent out there and introduce him around. He’s coming to work for the paper.” Perry ordered. “I’m putting him on the city beat.” Lois wasn’t too happy with that news.
“My…beat?” Lois remarked.
“Hey, don’t sweat it, Lois.” Fred said. “The competition should do wonders for you.”
“We should know,” Velma added, “Considering the competition that we had to put up with from those investigative reporters at that other Daily business.”
“Lois, not only does Kent show proper respect for his editor-in-chief and not only does he have a snappy, punchy prose style, but I swear to you that after forty years in the business, he is the fastest typist I have ever seen.” Perry indicated, and Lois stared warily at Clark, whose sincere expression never changes.
“I’m sure I can learn a lot from you, Lois.” Clark said, and he handed Perry a piece of paper from his pocket. “Oh, and Mr. White, could you arrange for half my salary to be sent on a weekly basis to this address?”
“Oh, how sweet.” Daphne remarked. “You send a check every week to your dear old mother.”
“His grey-haired old mother.” Lois murmured, archly.
“Lois!” Daphne exclaimed.
“What? Eventually someone’s gonna find out the truth.” Lois told Daphne.
“Actually, she’s silver-haired.” Clark told Lois, in total sincerity. Lois just stared at him, completely stunned; he actually did send his mother money. Clark managed a pleasant smile, while Daphne folded her arms and showed off an arrogant grin towards Lois.
“Word of advice: no one likes a smarty, kid.” Lois uttered, and she turned back to Clark. “So, are there any more at home like you?”
“Not really, no.” Clark remarked.
Later in the day, when break time had arrived, Daphne agreed to go out into the city and show Clark around Metropolis. They both went down to the parking garage, beneath the Daily Bugle complex, and headed over to the Mystery Machine van that was parked there. While Daphne and Clark were walking towards the van, they were completely unaware of the mysterious figure that was spying on them from the shadows.
“I’m so glad Freddie finally decided to let me drive the van for a change.” Daphne said, as she took the van keys out of her purse and started tossing them around playfully.
“Your, uh…your van looks a little…peculiar.” Clark commented, noting the sixty-ish design on it.
“I know it looks a little retro,” Daphne said, “But who isn’t in a modern society like today.” Clark nodded in agreement with that idea; seeing the Mystery Machine’s design had almost brought him back to his teenage days in his Kansan hometown of Smallville. “So, Mr. Kent, what do you think of your first day on the job so far?”
“Well, meeting you, your friends, Jimmy, Mr. White, and Lois…on the whole, I think it’s swell.” Clark replied, and Daphne was taken by surprise over how far he seemed to be going back on the “retro meter.”
“Swell?” Daphne uttered.
“Is that bad?” Clark asked, and Daphne shook her head.
“Oh, no…it’s fine.” Daphne said. “It’s just that…there are very few people left in the world these days who sound comfortable saying an old-fashioned slang like that.”
“Really? It just sort of comes naturally to me.” Clark stated. “Kinda like ‘jeepers’ or ‘zoinks’ or even ‘jinkies’.” Daphne was extremely impressed by how much in common Clark Kent had with her and the Mystery Inc. gang.
“You sure it’s not Coolsville you’re from, Mr. Kent.” asked Daphne, and before Clark could’ve answered that question, he and Daphne both heard a voice from behind them, as they were right next to the van.
“Alright! Freeze! The both of you!” The voice demanded. “Turn around, nice and slowly!” Clark and Daphne did what the voice said, turning around as slowly as they could and coming face-to-face with a rough-looking mugger that stood behind them, with a pistol leveled at them.
“Jeepers!” Daphne exclaimed.
“This isn’t very swell at all.” Clark said, as he and Daphne were forced up against the side of the Mystery Machine, both looking very nervous.
“Hand me the purse, kid.” The mugger told Daphne, just before he got a real good look at the Mystery Machine. “And hand me the keys, too. I’m gonna need a getaway car, as soon as blow both of your butts away!”
“Oh, my! Will you really blow my butt away…in this skirt?” Daphne inquired.
“Um, you better just do as he says, Daphne.” A nervous Clark said, and Daphne fretted deeply over handing the two items to the mugger, thinking about what Fred might’ve thought if the Mystery Machine ended up being stolen.
“Ohhh…” She said, making the mugger even more impatient.
“Come on, kid.” The mugger said. “I haven’t got all day here.”
“Couldn’t you at least just take the van?” Daphne begged. “This is a genuine Goochie purse that I bought from the Metropolis Mall, only five years ago. Please don’t take it away from me now. It’s still in good condition.”
“That’s it!” The mugger exclaimed, and as he cocked the pistol, Daphne flinched with fear; that’s when Clark stepped in front of her, almost seeming to be protecting her.
“Listen, mister.” He said. “I realize times are tough for some these days, but this isn’t he answer.” There was great sincerity in Clark’s voice as he tried convincing the mugger. “You can’t solve society’s problems with a gun.”
“T-That’s right.” Daphne said. “Y-You might be the first to bring back peace and love.”
“Exactly.” Clark agreed. “You don’t want to hurt anyone, do you?”
“No…I don’t. And you know something? I’m turning over a new leaf.” The mugger replied, and Daphne & Clark were pleased for a brief moment, until the mugger shoved the pistol directly into Clark’s face. “Right after I blow your butts away!” He shoved Clark aside and aimed the gun directly at Daphne again. “Hand them over!” Daphne just stared at the keys and purse, again fretting over the decision to hand them over; that’s until a sudden idea popped in her head, and she threw the items down on the ground towards the mugger.
“Daphne! What are you doing?!” asked Clark, totally surprised, and he knew that she must’ve had a plan up her sleeve, judging by the way she was winking at him. When the mugger reached down to pick the keys and purse up, the damsel in distress that was once Daphne Blake had suddenly kicked him viciously in the face, sending him reeling backwards. The mugger hit the pavement, bringing up his gun with a deadly glare and aiming it right at a stunned Daphne, who realized the cause of her action and flinched again.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” Clark cried, rushing forward with his arms outstretched pleadingly as the mugger fired. What neither Daphne nor the mugger noticed was how the bullet hit Clark harmlessly in the palm of his hand; he closed his fist around it, just before his eyes bulged and he dropped to the ground, with a look of agonized astonishment as Daphne screamed.
“Mr. Kent! Oh, my gosh!” shouted Daphne, as the frightened mugger scrambled to his feet and ran off down the alley, while Daphne bent over Clark. “Mr. Kent! Mr. Kent! Are you…” Clark’s eyelids fluttered and then opened; with a sheepish smile, he looked up at the relieved Daphne. “Thank goodness! I thought you were killed!”
“Wow…I guess I must have fainted or something…” Clark said.
“I would’ve done the same thing.” Daphne said, and Clark got to his feet and dusted himself off, while Daphne picked up her keys and purse. “Humph! It’d be a dull day in Coolsville, before I give up my purse and the Mystery Machine to that creep.”
“Really, Daphne. Supposed that creep…I mean, man had shot you?” Clark asked. “Are they worth risking your life over a hairbrush, a lipstick, and compartment filled with five Snickers bars, Hershey bars, a bag of Lays, Burger King meals, and a half-eaten dog biscuit? I mean…”
“How in the world did you know that?” Daphne interjected, and Clark seemed to have become nervous again.
“Know what?” He asked.
“You just described two exact contents in my purse and several different contents that Shaggy and Scooby keep in their secret compartment in the Mystery Machine.” Daphne said, and Clark just paused and smiled.
“Wild guess.” He remarked, turning self-consciously and striding towards the other side of the van. “So are we still on for that tour?”
“Sure.” Daphne said, as she watched him curiously.
So what do you all think?
