Chapter Thirty-One: Wedding Bells, Part Two

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Outback Steakhouse | Gotham City, New Jersey
Monday, June 24, 2019 | 17:03 EDT

When we walk in, we get stares up the wahzoo, and when Lois does a head count, she politely says to the stunned girl who's at the front counter, "Hello. Party for twenty-five, please?"

"... O-one moment... p-p-please..." she says, and she runs off to get her manager or someone, I guess.

And surely enough, the manager of this branch comes to greet us, and she says, albeit kinda shocked, "Hello, Justice League. On behalf of all of us here at the Outback Steakhouse, we welcome you, and in addition to our thanks for keeping our planet safe, you also have our thanks for your patronage, tonight. Now, what was the number of your party, again? Just to be sure..."

"Ah, yes," says Lois, "Our party number is twenty-five."

"Alrighty, then," says the manager. "We'll have you seated in just a moment."

"Thank you," says Lois, and the manager smiles, nods, and walks away.

Then, Lois turns and whispers to me, "You know, funny thing about Kryptonian physiology, it really opens up the memory banks. I know that woman."

"Really?" I ask. "How?"

"I went to school with her. We graduated Metropolis High, together. Her name is Cheryl Ballard. She was a mean, wannabe popular girl."

"Whereas, you were the actual popular girl, eh?"

"And I wasn't trying to be! I was just a bit of an overachiever, that's all."

"A bit?"

"Watch it, Smallville," warns Lois.

"I did watch it," I say, ignoring Lois' warning. "I watched your entire high school yearbook, as a matter of fact. Let's review, shall we?"

"Let's not."

Again, ignoring my wife, I continue, "Captain of the martial arts team? Student council president? Chief coordinator for your homecoming and prom? Homecoming queen? Prom queen? Lead photographer for the school paper? Hell, at that rate, I'm surprised that you weren't its editor!"

"My mother is a dead woman..." deadpans Lois.

I smirk, and at that moment, Cheryl returns and says, "Your table is ready. Please follow me."

We follow her to a composite table with twenty-five chairs, and we all take a seat. And when I get settled into my chair, Lois suddenly and unexpectedly caresses me between my legs which startles me and makes me jump and everybody turn to stare at me and ask if I'm alright, and I smile sheepishly and tell them that I am. When everyone goes back to their conversations, I turn and shoot daggers at Lois, to which she responds with the most "innocent" smile she can muster.

Then, she whispers at a volume that only I can hear, "That was only a taste. For that yearbook comment, you're getting punished when we get home. You might not enjoy it."

"And you just might," I whisper right back at her.

And we smirk at each other and turn to look at our menus.

19:27 EDT

We get through our little outing relatively unscathed, although a few people have come up to get pictures with and autographs from us, here and there. Now, as we're finishing our meals, we sit and have some light-hearted conversation with each other, cracking jokes about and on each other, telling old war stories from our days before the League, and generally having a blast. Prime example, Selina...

"Okay, okay, okay, wait a minute, I got another one," says Selina: "So this was back in Cali, right? And I was just stealing stuff, left and right. I was gettin' in and out, no muss, no fuss. And these idiots in the L.A.P.D. were just not gettin' the hint!"

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