I wake to the sound of my phone ringing. Eira rolls off of me and flops onto the floor. She stretches her long white legs and then promptly resumes snoring. I groggily get out of bed and snatch the phone off the coffee table where I left it two days ago. I swear when I see it's only at 10%. Lois is always buying me new chargers but they don't last long in Superman's care.
"I must warn you," I say through a huge yawn. "My phone is about to die."
"At least you're not dropping your phone in cyberspace."
"That was one time, Bruce," I sit up and crane my neck to look at the alarm clock. It reads 8:35 am. Wow, Bruce must be desperate if he's out of bed before noon. "I was trying out the new pockets."
"Maybe you should leave the sewing to your mother," Bruce advises.
"I am quite capable of mending my own clothes. Unlike a certain playboy."
Eira moans and looks at me angrily. I'm sorry, are we interrupting your beauty sleep? She growls and turns her back on me. These days all she does is sleep and eat. Repeat. She rarely goes out on patrol with me. If I didn't know any better I would think she's depressed.
"That's what Alfred is for," Bruce says seriously.
"Well, excuse me, not all of us can afford a butler."
"I'd lend him to you if you want." I can hear the rare smile in his voice. "Your fridge apparently needs restocking."
I grimace. "You spoke to Lois."
"Yep," Bruce pops the 'P.' "You gave her quite a bit of a scare last night."
"She's overreacting," I grit my teeth. As of late that seems to be her M.O. Every little thing sends her off the deep dive. The blowup about Batman led to her storming out in a huff after she threw a pillow at my face. No doubt, she is still pissed and will avoid me at the Planet.
"Is she though?" Bruce asks. "I saw the footage, Clark. It's a miracle you made it home without assistance." I swallow audibly. Bruce swears. "You did need assistance," he fills in the gaps. I can almost imagine him balling his fists at his side, the same way he does when he's frustrated. Shit. Why does he have to be so damn perceptive all the time? It's freakishly annoying. Makes it impossible to hide anything from Bruce. No wonder he's the one with the kid and not me. I shudder. I do not want to be Dick Grayson.
"Please tell me you at least had the foresight to bring a change of clothes." That would have been the smart thing to do. But no. I left my tux at the theater.
"Funny story about the cab driver," I smirk. "He was from Smallville. Small world, right?"
"Meaning he recognized you," Bruce's tone takes on a grim edge. "Clark, we've been through this," Bruce says. "Your identity is your most valued possession."
"Says the guy with a gazillion race cars in his basement."
"This is no joking matter!" Bruce snarls. "If the wrong people learn the truth, everyone you love will be in danger."
"You don't know what you're talking about," I grit my teeth and fling the covers off. "I'm not listening to a guy whose only identity is a sleazeball who sleeps with a different woman every night."
"You are super immature," Bruce hisses.
"I'm not the one wasting my parent's fortune on prostitutes." I wince. I regret the words as soon as I say them. That was a low blow. Bruce has a way of bringing out the darkest parts of me. "I'm sorry Bruce. I shouldn't have . . ."
"No, you're right," he sighs heavily. "I haven't been completely . . ."
He breaks off into silence. I swear when I see my phone died. I shrug, oh well. Bruce knows I will never hang up on him on purpose. I should probably plug my phone in, but I can't seem to find the cord anywhere in my room.
I drag my feet out of bed, pour myself a cup of coffee, and gulp down the steaming dark liquid. Bruce is an idiot. He doesn't know the first thing about having a secret identity. It takes years off my life. He won't know a secret identity if it exploded in his face. Bruce is full of hot air. He needs to learn to buzz off. I'm not the same little kid he used to beat at basketball. I can take care of myself.
I dash through my apartment and run smack into the wall. A crack spreads up all the way to the ceiling. Yikes. I'm glad Bruce wasn't here to see that. After that hiccup, I decide to get dressed the old fashion way. I can't wait to be back to normal. I'm going to be half an hour late to work or longer if my speed is on the fritz.
I quickly pay the cab driver and rush through the revolving doors to the Daily Planet, scanning my watch nervously. "Goddamnit!" I'm late again. It's half past ten, the conference started at nine.
In my defense, I ran into a mailbox on my way here and decided it was safer to go to the more mundane route, which meant I had to wait for a Taxi for thirty minutes, and then it took us almost as long to drive here - a journey that usually only takes me about five seconds. This is so maddeningly unhelpful. Next time there's an existential asteroid plummeting toward Earth, don't ask me for help.
I can't exactly tell Perry the truth. I grab a chocolate donut on my way in, silently thanking the saint who treated the office today. My stomach rumbles in appreciation as I take a bite. I haven't had a chance to eat since breakfast yesterday. This Superman persona is really starting to drag.
"Sorry I'm late," I push the conference room door open, and all four pairs of eyes zero in on yours truly. Lois searches my face questioningly and I wonder if I have a bruise on my face.
"My alarm malfunctioned and I didn't -" But nobody is listening to me. Cat Grant stands before the whiteboard, steeling my thunder; everybody sits in rapt attention as she pitches her story. No doubt Bruce Wayne got himself into deep shit again, sleeping with an ambassador's wife or such nonsense. It won't be the first time or the last. Perry forgets to chew me out for being late. I don't question my luck and take the seat next to Lois, who is slowly reimagining Cat's head on a spike. At least that glare is not aimed at me for once. I shake my head at her and eat the rest of my donut. . .
My gaze zeroes in on an atrocious sight and I spit the donut out and it smacks Lois squarely in the face, splattering chocolate frosting all over her cheek. Lois lets out a cry like a startled goat and elbows me in the side sharply, her eyes daggers, and I wince.
All I see is my face plastered across the whiteboard, my hands entangled in Lana's ebony locks, as she drapes herself over me; her mouth locked on mine. Holy crap. I'm toast. I'm six feet under.
Cat stands before the whiteboard, beaming with self-righteous glee, her mouth moves, but I don't hear any words. It's not what it looks like, I want to protest and bite my tongue. Clark Kent is not kissing Lana Lang. Lana Lang is not kissing Clark Kent. So far as the world is concerned, Andrina, America's favorite pop star sensation, is giving Superman a lap dance. My face burns with embarrassment. That was a private moment! A moment of weakness. No one was supposed to see that, certainly not Lois. It was just two old friends catching up after years apart. Admittedly, we did a little more than just catch up, but no one can know. There hasn't been a scandal this big since Oliver Queen cheated on his fiancé with her sister.
Everyone knows I hate Lex Luthor. No one will believe Lana . . . I mean Andrina came on to me first. It would seem like. . . Superman is trying to spite Lex Luthor. I don't work like that, but no one will believe that after this goes public. If Lex sees that photo, he'll terminate her, and it won't be pretty. I know we have our differences. Lana can be a bit of a power-hungry floozy some days, but I wouldn't wish Lex's wrath on my worst enemy. Oh, wait, except maybe Lex. Though chances of Lex offing himself are quite slim, he's far too in love with himself for that.
"It's a fake," I say, careful to keep my voice void of any emotion. "Has to be!"
Jimmy smiles at me pityingly and looks down at his feet dejectedly, crestfallen. That's right. Superman is Jimmy Olson's idol. A fact that is easy to forget when Jimmy beats me at Mario Kart on a daily basis. Now Superman is just a sleazeball who steals another man's fiancé, a disappointment. Shit. I'm turning into Bruce Wayne. It was supposed to be an innocent root beer . . . oh, what does it matter? Clark Kent can't speak up for Superman. He's a nobody from Smallville. I should have never listened to Pete in college. Creating Superman has been his worst idea yet.
I miss the days in the shadows.
Cat chuckles darkly. "I assure you, Handsome, it's as real as you and me. I've got a video," she winks at me and licks her top lip suggestively. "Man, if a man kissed me like that," she shivers. "I'd never leave the bedroom!" I thought I was kissing Lois! I was too tired and out of it to tell the difference! Though, that argument isn't going to hold up in court.
"We did not!" I start to protest, my face turning as red as my cape, and I quickly realize my misstep. Fortunately, no one notices my slip, I hope. I quickly scan the faces around me. Cat is as clueless as ever, more interested in filing her nails than the bumbling farm boy in the room. Jimmy hums a sad song to himself, not taking his eyes off his video game. My eyes narrow on the portly man with a receding hairline, looking a bit too smug for my liking. Perry White did not become Editor of The Daily Planet because he knows how to yodel. Not for the first time, I wonder if he knows more than he lets on.
Lois' gaze could topple planets. She's red with the effort of keeping her scathing comments to herself. I'm so dead.
"Kind of hard to whoosh your way out of this one, Smallville," she whispers in a low tone only audible to the rare members of the super hearing club. Population: One. I force my expression to stay neutral, but my heart runs ninety miles a minute. My hair stands up on edge.
"I'm sorry," I groan. Lois looks away, but she does I see a single tear slide down her face. She rests her hand over her stomach as if she's about to be sick.
"I love it!" Perry explains, smacking his hand on the table. "The Fall of Superman!" Perry smiles as if Elvis himself has crawled out of the grave and hugged him. I can't believe how quick he is to throw me to the crows. I thought he would at least give me the benefit of the doubt. "I want the whole scoop. How did they meet? Is Andrina tired of her billionaire play-toy?"
There is no story, just bad judgment on my part. I should have never gone to Lana's penthouse. I should have followed my gut and gone straight home. I signed my own death certificate the second I stepped into her penthouse.
"I hardly need to remind you the Daily Planet does not deal in unsolicited rumors. We are not the inquisitor," he looks at Cat as he says this. "I want nothing but cold-hearted facts." Take a number, I'll be right with you as soon as I'm done roasting my head in a volcano. "This is America's favorite son we're dealing with. I don't need to tell you the amount of scrutiny the Daily Planet will be under if this proves false."
I can't stand it any longer, I leap to my feet. "We can't write this story!" I insist, not caring if I sound off my rockers. "Think of the people . . . all those children," I scrounge around for the right words to say. "They'll be crushed," I'm fighting a losing battle. "We'll be letting them down."
"Well, he should have thought about that before he put his cock in America's Sweetheart's pants," Lois snaps. I shudder at her biting tone.
"Superman never went that far," I reassure her. "Trust me," I lower my voice. "You're the only one for me." Lois shows me the middle finger. Okay, I deserved that.
"Now Clark," Perry says tentatively as if treading on broken glass. "I know you idolize the guy."
How stuck up does he think I am? Superman is at the bottom of my list of 'favorite people,' right there with Batman. The lunatic has no respect for human life. I would like to drop him in a black hole and see what happens.
"So, I'll understand if you want to sit this one out?" He raises a bushy gray eyebrow at me.
I'm left with no other choice. If I sit this one out, Lois and Cat will skin me alive. "Psh. . . of course not!" I add a nonchalant shrug for good measure. "I don't idolize the man. Who do you think I am, Jimmy?" I laugh uneasily. I hate throwing my pal under the bus like that, but it was unavoidable.
Jimmy pouts and lets out a cry of despair. "It can't be," he mumbles over and over into his Superman mug. "Superman is no cheater." I wave my hand in Jimmy's direction, illustrating my point.
"Alright Kent," he says with a throaty chuckle. " In that case, you'll be partnered up with Grant for this story, see to it you keep her in line."
There's an uproar of protests from the girls, ranging from:
"But he's my partner!"
"I don't need a nanny!"
"I work alone!"
"She's not a real writer!"
"Clark will only slow down my 'process'!"
"Though he is rather yummy once you get past the King Dork facade."
And my personal favorite:
"Have you completely lost your mind!" Lois flies out of her seat and slams her Mac shut. "I've done more exclusives on Superman than all of you put together! He's mine!"
If by that you mean, you take unnecessary risks to get my attention. Sure, I'm all yours Lois.
"Hello," I raise my hand and grin at her, knowing it will drive her mad. "Are you forgetting me? I've done my fair share of exclusives too." It's all for show; Perry can't say I'm too close to the story now. Getting under Lois Lane's skin is an added bonus; I'll even go as far as to say it's one of my superpowers.
She swerves on me madly, and I finally understand why they call her Mad Dog Lane. She looks like a Pitbull ready to bite my head off, though a very cute Pitbull. "Don't get me started on you, Smallville." I wince. I know I'm in trouble when she uses that tone."You, mister, are the worst kind of criminal!" She spits the last word out as if she's choking on rotten eggs. I flinch.
"Why thank you," I place my hand over my heart. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." I am really laying on the Clark Kent persona thick, I should get an Oscar for my performance. Though usually, Superman is the act.
Lois growls frustratingly and braces her arms on the table. "Listen Fly-boy I am this close to dropping your ass off a high. . ."
"That's enough you two!" Perry says in his no-nonsense voice. "This is a newsroom not a battlefield," he shoots the two of us a hard look.
"I fail to see the difference," Lois says, still fuming.
"Somebody is possessive," Cat shares a conspiratorial smile with me. She puckers her lips and blows a kiss my way. I fight the urge to fly out the window right now and wash my hands of this mess. I never thought I would see the day when I needed Kryptonite. Maybe I can pop in and say hello to my Ol' pal Lex.
"I'm sick of the lot of you!" Perry screams loud enough for the inmates to hear on Stryker's island. I scratch my poor aching eardrum and will the ringing in my head to stop. Jimmy squeaks and looks like he's about to wet his pants. Lois crosses her arms and stares at me as if it's my fault Perry has high blood pressure. "I don't want to hear any more bickering capeesh?" When none of us move, he glares at each and every one of us unblinking. He could give The Batman a run for his money.
"Well, don't just sit there catching dust!" He slams a rolled-up newspaper on the table and the room echoes with a sound like thunder. I flinch. "This story is not going to write itself!"
I'm the first one up, and out the door faster than you can say "Superman is a loser." I don't need to be told twice to flee. Any longer in those close quarters and Perry would have an obituary to write for yours truly.
Lois stomps next to me, her high heels sounding like gunshots. "I can explain," I hurriedly say. "She attacked . . ." Instinctively Lois lashes out and grabs my bicep. Is it just my imagination or does Lois look a bit green? Lois starts gagging and makes a beeline for the girl's bathroom. What-ah?
"Lois," I call after her. It's me. Sleeping with an alien is finally catching up to her. I'm making her sick. Or maybe she's simply sick of the sight of me. Under the circumstances, I understand. I move to follow her, but Cat loops an arm around my waste.
"Not so fast, Handsome," Cat purrs into my ear. "We've got business at my place," Slowly her fingers slide under my shirt. I rip her hand away before she can feel the suit beneath.
"Cat," I hiss, unable to hide my irritation. "Read my lips," I say. "There is no WE," I say carefully. "I will never love you."
"Love?" Cat's eyes widen. "Who said anything about love?" she asks. "You're not my type Kent. I'm waiting for Superman."
"You do that," I shake my head. "I've got a fire to put out."
"How rude!" Cat's jaw drops to the floor. I ignore her and head to the bathroom. Fortunately, there is no one there to witness Lois' outburst if it shall come to that.
"Lois?" I knock on the bathroom door.
"Go away!" Lois roars. The effort of speaking sends her down another downward spiral and retching noises echo through the closed door.
"I know you're mad," I say. "I'm mad at myself, but please don't shut me out."
There's the distinct sound of a toilet flushing. Water springs out of the faucet. I step back as Lois tears the door open. She greets me with a murderous glare. Chunks of throwup drip down her chin. "Are you okay?"
Lois wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand. "No, Clark, I am most definitely not okay!" Here we go. "I thought you were dying in a ditch . . . but oh no!" she shakes with fury. "You were locking lips with your high school sweetheart!" She wheezes and dashes back into the bathroom. Wordlessly I follow her and hold back her hair as she empties the contents of her stomach into the sink. I'm no doctor, but this seems to be an abnormal reaction to adultery. The throw-up is an unhealthy brown-gold color that reeks of rotten eggs and stale pizza. That was it! The pizza gave her food poisoning. My betrayal was the tip of the iceberg.
"Can I get you some water?"
"No!" Lois wipes her mouth with a paper towel. "You can get me some kryptonite so I can shove it up your cheating ass!"
"That can be arranged," I sigh. I can't live in a world where Lois hates me.
Lois swears colorfully. "I didn't mean that, Clark." Sure sounded like she did. "I'm just so mad at you!" Angry tears skid down her face. "Bullets bounce off your chest, but you can't contain your lady friend's hot lips."
"Lana is not my friend!" I protest.
"No, she's your call girl. You're as bad as Bruce!"
"She surprised me!"
"You're a fucking alien!" Lois growls. "She's a puny mortal!"
"Careful, someone could hear you."
"I don't care!" Lois screams in my face. "You disgust me."
"I disgust myself."
"Why the hell did you not tell me?" Lois starts to pace back and forth in the bathroom.
"Considering how you're reacting, I was right to not tell you."
"Don't you dare blame me for your incompetence!" She stops pacing and swerves to face me. "While you were locking lips with America's sweetheart I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to find you! I thought . . . . Never mind what I thought! YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME!!!"
"You're right," I admit. "It'll never happen again."
"Danm straight it won't." she thunders. "I know where you live." She sucks in a raspy breath and keels over clutching her midsection. Her face contorted with pain.
"Lois, are you dying?"
"No, you numbskull," she glowers at me, straightening. She studies my face carefully, opens her mouth, and then closes it again. The salty scent of Lois' sweat tickles my nostrils. Her heartbeat sounds like a fox running away from hunters. She sets her mouth in a firm line, her gaze weary and tired. "It's nothing, Clark," she finally answers. "Just that time of the month." But I don't smell any blood on her. If anything, she smells a thousand times better than usual, moist and refreshed. Lois is lying but I have no room to talk after what happened last night. It's probably nothing. Lois will tell me when she's ready.
Lois lets out one last stream of curse words and exits the bathroom. A small group of colleagues had gathered outside the bathroom. I glare at them and the busybodies quickly disperse, but I can't help wondering how much they heard. "First I had to handle whiney Bruce now I've gotta clean up your fucking mess." Lois shakes her head in horror. "Taking care of you two is a full-time job."
"What did Bruce want?" I wonder.
"You mean he didn't talk to you?" Lois asks.
"Well, yeah . . ." I shrug. "He wanted to see if I was okay."
"And?" Lois prompts.
"And?" I frown. "What else is there?"
"Typical cowardly male," she swears. "At this rate, I'll grow white hair before he fesses up."
"Lois, are you sure you're okay?" I'm having a hard time following her tangents.
"You know," Lois' eyes brighten and she grabs my arm excitedly. "This gives me an idea. With any luck it'll solve all our problems. Whatever you do, don't let Cat publish that article!" She pecks me on the mouth and scurries away. What just happened? Is she not mad at me anymore?
I find Cat crouched under her desk, which is right by the window and has a perfect view of the Revenge Club across the street. I move a gaudy pink box and sit on the edge of her desk. I'm already feeling violated and she hasn't done anything dirty yet. The entire corner reeks of a Victoria's Secrets on steroids. Her desk is covered with makeup products that probably cost more than she makes in a week. I finger an absurdly pink cat figurine dressed in a bikini and push it far, far away from me. Knowing Cat, she's probably hosted a handful of midnight guests on this very spot. I suddenly feel itchy and dirty and can't get off her desk fast enough.
Cat shoves her rear unnecessarily in my direction. She hums the 'Gilmore Girls' theme song to herself as she rummages around, looking for something. I'm forced to move out of the way. Lois I can handle it, but Cat is an entirely different species. We should be searching for sources, not playing dress up. I really hope Lois's plan works. I can't stomach another second with Barbie.
"Gotcha!" She finally resurfaces carrying a sparkly teal dress. She holds it up against her body, showing off its cleavage. "What do you think?"
"I think a mermaid lost her tail somewhere," I flip my notebook open, a poor attempt to seem like I'm brainstorming. I already know the story, thank you very much. The reporter in me knows I've hit a goldmine. Superman falling from grace, who would have imagined that? Any sensible reporter would be all over the story like a vulture on a carcass.
Cat bites her lip thoughtfully. "You're right, it's more Aquaman's style," she says with a thoughtful shake of the head, her light hair smacking me in the face. Aquaman prefers Mera nude; though Cat doesn't need to know that. She disappears back into her secret compartment and resurfaces again with a simple red sundress with a pattern of white roses.
I laugh despite myself. It's the dress I bought for Lois in Smallville as a joke. I've been wondering what she did with it. Cat takes my laughter as an answer and tosses it to the side, her face crestfallen, and resumes searching for the perfect outfit. I grit my teeth; I never had to play Fashion Critique with Lois.
I chance a peek at our desks across the room and silently chastise myself for mentally calling it ours, even though they are set side by side. "There is you and there is I, there is no we," Lois had said my first week at The Daily Planet. How things have changed. She broke her seventh rule of reporting when she agreed to go out with me. I know Whitesnake is her kryptonite. Lois's impromptu weekend in Florida has paid off, her skin taking on a golden sheen that would put an Amazonian to shame. Her violet eyes are even more piercing against her tan. I envy her, I can't even get a mini tan if I fly into the sun. Her black ringlets cascade over one shoulder. She is every bit a princess from a fairy tale, but her scowl ruins the image.
"Come on it would be fun," Lois balances the phone against her shoulder, typing furiously. I listen carefully to the person on the other line. I hear a noncommittal grunt.
"You and I have a very different idea of fun." Bruce responds.
"You do this and I promise to keep my mouth shut about your little dark secret."
"Are you blackmailing me Lane?"
"That depends, are you on board?" She catches me looking and hurriedly covers the phone. "Clark Joseph Kent," she scolds. "You better not being doing what I think you're doing."
My face heats up astromonically. I can push planets out of orbit, jump into burning buildings, and stop trains in their tracks, but when it comes to Lois Lane, I freeze up like one of Captain Cold's victims. I smirk, letting Lois know I heard her little chat with Bruce Wayne, and we're not through discussing this. Lois maturely sticks her tongue out at me and wheels the chair around so her back is turned ot me.
"I can still hear . . ." I falter as Cat's voice slices through my thoughts. I begrudgingly pull my gaze away from Lois and focus on Cat.
"What about this baby?" She holds up another red dress, this time one the exact shade of blood which is low cut and has a black rose sewed on the side. I much preferred the sundress. This one looks a bit too Hester Prynne for my liking.
"Cat," I groan. "What in Sam Hill are you doing?" I have a pretty good idea, but I hope I'm wrong. No outfit is going to make a lick of a difference to me when she creams me alive.
"Picking my outfit for the . . ."
"A dress is not going to make a lick of a difference," I grind through my teeth. "Superman doesn't notice that kind of thing." Maybe you should try driving your car off a cliff like a certain reporter I know.
"Oh, I don't know," Lois says heatedly from her desk, sulking. "Superman seems to like girls in glitter. I would go with the blue one Cat. it matches his eyes." She shoots a venomous look my way. What? I thought we made up. She's mad at me again. That's the last time I eavesdrop on her phone calls.
"Superman," Cat laughs in amazement as if Lois has made a cosmic joke. "Who said anything about Superman?" She fingers the blue dress. "You want dirt on someone you look no farther than their family," Cat says. "Honestly Lois, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one?"
"Wait, you mean . . ." I stop myself from saying Pete in the nick of time. Pete Ross is Clark's roommate. I keep forgetting about his pesky alter ego Sam Lando who moonlights as my adopted brother and manager. Just chock it up to another of his hair brained ideas.
Lois's ears perk up. "Cat," she says approvingly. "That's actually a half-decent idea."
Cat's eyes widened in shock. It's a rare day in hell when Lois compliments Cat Grant. "Really?" she squeals.
"It's a terrible idea," I hiss. "Sam doesn't give interviews."
"I don't know Mr. Kent," Cat slithers towards me, like a cat on the prowl, and places a manicured hand over my chest, right where the S is under my shirt. My traitorous heart beats a mile a minute and sweat starts to drip behind my ear. I hope I'm not as transparent as I feel. My muscles tense on instinct. I've only allowed a handful of women this close to me. She's invading my personal space. Cat traces the contour of my jawline with her index finger, her touch butterfly light against my flesh. I feel my face redden. She leans in close, till I can see the smudge of mascara underneath her eyes. The air fills with the scent of perfume.
"You'll find I can be quite persuasive," she purrs against my mouth teasingly, then slips to the girl's lavatory to change.
Lois watches her leave with fire in her gaze. "Since when are you on a first name basis with Lando?" She stares at me accusingly.
Lois waits till Cat is out of earshot and then strides toward me."This could be a good opportunity for you to do some investigative reporting and see what a lying dick your friend is." This age old argument again. "Ask him about Bruno Manheim," she discretely slides a photograph to me. Bruno and Pete are inside Ace of Clubs, sitting across from each other. Pete laughs amiably at something Bruno said as he sips on a beer.
"This doesn't prove anything."
"Stop being so fucking stupid!" Lois picks up a thick book and throws it at my head. I don't duck fast enough, and it hits me squarely in the face.
"Ow," I scrunch up my face in exaggerated pain.