Author’s Note: Here we go, boys and girls! This fic starts the day after my last fic, "At Last!" Yeah, that means "At Last!" is likely done. The idea for this fic is to start with Jonathon B.A.S.E. jumping from the top of the barn, just like at the beginning of Legacy…and then taking a radical turn in an unknown direction (sounds kinda like National Lampoon‘s Vacation, hope I can find my way better than Clark Griswold). Forget reworking season 3, though I may incorporate some ideas from the show.
Disclaimer: I still have no ownership of Smallville or its characters.
Chapter 1: The Next Day
Advancing rapidly toward the barn and past Lana’s maroon SUV, Martha was alarmed to see her husband, Jonathon, astride the top of the barn roof, weathervane in one hand and a tool belt around his waist.
“Jonathon, what are you doing up there? Clark should be doing that,” Martha said, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the morning sounds of a farm.
“Sweetheart, I’m fine. Would you stop worrying?” Jonathon answered exasperatedly.
As he grabbed his pliers and strolled over to attach the weathervane to the cupola, Martha replied, “Jonathon, please be careful!”
Rebutting her concern with condescension, Jonathon shot back, “Martha, my father and I built this roof. I could walk this roof with my eyes closed.” With that, he planted the vane in the mount on top of the cupola.
Having picked up some stubbornness of her own from being around three generations of Kent men, Martha kept up her assault, “You know what the doctor said about taking it easy.”
“You know, the last time I checked, the doctor didn’t have a farm to run.”
RRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!
Grabbing his head as though to prevent its imminent explosion, Jonathon screamed, staggered, and when his last-ditch grab at the weathervane only served to pull it loose from its as yet unsecured mooring, he tumbled towards the ground with nothing below him but the hard, remorseless, packed-dirt driveway.
“CLARK!!!” Martha screamed. Only then did she remember that Clark had done his chores early and taken Lana to the Kawatche caves in the Kents’ red pickup.
Disclaimer: I still have no ownership of Smallville or its characters.
Chapter 1: The Next Day
Advancing rapidly toward the barn and past Lana’s maroon SUV, Martha was alarmed to see her husband, Jonathon, astride the top of the barn roof, weathervane in one hand and a tool belt around his waist.
“Jonathon, what are you doing up there? Clark should be doing that,” Martha said, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the morning sounds of a farm.
“Sweetheart, I’m fine. Would you stop worrying?” Jonathon answered exasperatedly.
As he grabbed his pliers and strolled over to attach the weathervane to the cupola, Martha replied, “Jonathon, please be careful!”
Rebutting her concern with condescension, Jonathon shot back, “Martha, my father and I built this roof. I could walk this roof with my eyes closed.” With that, he planted the vane in the mount on top of the cupola.
Having picked up some stubbornness of her own from being around three generations of Kent men, Martha kept up her assault, “You know what the doctor said about taking it easy.”
“You know, the last time I checked, the doctor didn’t have a farm to run.”
RRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!
Grabbing his head as though to prevent its imminent explosion, Jonathon screamed, staggered, and when his last-ditch grab at the weathervane only served to pull it loose from its as yet unsecured mooring, he tumbled towards the ground with nothing below him but the hard, remorseless, packed-dirt driveway.
“CLARK!!!” Martha screamed. Only then did she remember that Clark had done his chores early and taken Lana to the Kawatche caves in the Kents’ red pickup.
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