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May. 2nd, 2005 04:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scribblinlenoreThanks to everyone for playing! I am very entertained now. In the first poll question, we established that the ficlet will be from Lex's POV. Here's the setup:
Lex bends over his lesson plan, trying very hard to tune out the annoying way Mr. Worley drums his fingers on the arm of the worn-out sofa. Or how Mrs. Rayburn sucks her coffee in through her teeth, like she's a human strainer. It's only third period, more than half the day still to get through, and while going on a homicidal rampage, picking off all the teachers who have annoying personal habits, sounds a lot more fun than trying to figure out how to impart the majesty of world history to a bunch of vacant-eyed, grain-fed tenth graders, it's hardly going to pay the bills.
If anyone had told him six months ago that he'd be holed up in the Smallville High teacher's lounge with a ragtag fleet of second-rate hacks, he would have laughed. Not a dry little huh-huh-huh, either, but a full-out guffaw of amused disbelief.
That was before Lionel decided it was time for a change and promoted the heretofore unknown bastard son Lucas from obscurity to heir apparent.
"You've lived off my largesse long enough," Lionel had said, as he delivered the blow. "Go out, make something of yourself, and if I'm sufficiently impressed, perhaps you'll earn your way back into my will."
That was it. No further explanation, no grace period. One moment Lex was a LuthorCorp vice president, the next he was languishing on the curb outside their Metropolis penthouse, relieved of his credit cards, sports cars and all the influence he'd ever had in that town.
The prospect of begging for a job from people he'd made good sport of intimidating in the past was too humiliating to contemplate. His mother had left him the house in Smallville, so he'd taken refuge there, searching for some way to make a living. The LuthorCorp factory was out for obvious reasons, and most everyone else in town viewed him with suspicion when he came to apply, but the high school was desperately short of teachers and willing to consider even a Luthor to round out its faculty. His master's degree in biochemistry got him hired, although in the administration's infinite pedagogical wisdom he'd been assigned to teach World History. Every day was a new lesson in hell.
[Poll #486394]
Poll Closed: Wet, naked farmboy it is!
Lex bends over his lesson plan, trying very hard to tune out the annoying way Mr. Worley drums his fingers on the arm of the worn-out sofa. Or how Mrs. Rayburn sucks her coffee in through her teeth, like she's a human strainer. It's only third period, more than half the day still to get through, and while going on a homicidal rampage, picking off all the teachers who have annoying personal habits, sounds a lot more fun than trying to figure out how to impart the majesty of world history to a bunch of vacant-eyed, grain-fed tenth graders, it's hardly going to pay the bills.
If anyone had told him six months ago that he'd be holed up in the Smallville High teacher's lounge with a ragtag fleet of second-rate hacks, he would have laughed. Not a dry little huh-huh-huh, either, but a full-out guffaw of amused disbelief.
That was before Lionel decided it was time for a change and promoted the heretofore unknown bastard son Lucas from obscurity to heir apparent.
"You've lived off my largesse long enough," Lionel had said, as he delivered the blow. "Go out, make something of yourself, and if I'm sufficiently impressed, perhaps you'll earn your way back into my will."
That was it. No further explanation, no grace period. One moment Lex was a LuthorCorp vice president, the next he was languishing on the curb outside their Metropolis penthouse, relieved of his credit cards, sports cars and all the influence he'd ever had in that town.
The prospect of begging for a job from people he'd made good sport of intimidating in the past was too humiliating to contemplate. His mother had left him the house in Smallville, so he'd taken refuge there, searching for some way to make a living. The LuthorCorp factory was out for obvious reasons, and most everyone else in town viewed him with suspicion when he came to apply, but the high school was desperately short of teachers and willing to consider even a Luthor to round out its faculty. His master's degree in biochemistry got him hired, although in the administration's infinite pedagogical wisdom he'd been assigned to teach World History. Every day was a new lesson in hell.
[Poll #486394]
Poll Closed: Wet, naked farmboy it is!