DustBowlClex...
2/6/05 02:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxy....erf! I hate that. I'm thinking--I'm thinking!
Here's the next bit. Sadly, still no porn. We're in the pre-slash part here...but there will be, because it's PWLP, folks...porn with a little plot ot round it out! Mostly because I'm sooo blabby! :)
So, here I go-- tossing the little bird out of the nest--fly you little sob!! Fly!!
Dad stood and helped Mom to her feet, courtly towards her as always. Service was over, at least for the morning and Clark had been thinking so hard he hadn’t even noticed.
With any luck, he’d be able to spend a little time with his friend Pete before the night’s service.
As they filed out, women and men waved their hats and paper fans about, trying to encourage the stale flat air to cool them somewhat, and they exchanged gossip, news, feed prices, and talked about the latest ladies books, what recipes, what dress patterns McCalls had this month…and the biggest news was that of a tent revival coming to town. That was news that even interested Clark. They could be interesting, revivals. There was always good music, and there was usually a picnic lunch and most times, that was the best part…..
He stood out in the dusty yard in front of the church and waited for a break in the adult’s conversation, and jumped in the first time someone stopped to draw a breath, “Dad, can I go into town for a bit? I’ll be home in time for church--Please?” He said in all a rush.
“Clark, I hope you don’t plan on wasting money on those trashy magazines,” Dad growled, like always, and pulled his hat a little firmer on his head as Mom came to stand next to him, her pink and white dress glowing in the sun. Dad was grinning at Mom and Clark knew he wasn’t paying a lick of attention to him, he was so busy watching her pull her white gloves on, and pat her hat back into place. Dad looked at Mom like Whitney-- looked at Lana, and she got little spots of color on her cheeks. Clark rolled his eyes. Geez-- do they have to carry on like that in public? It’s so embarrassing.
Clark heaved a sigh, and coughed a little. “No sir,” Clark fibbed. “I won’t, but I thought maybe I’d get a float or something. If it’s okay, I—unh---have my allowance with me. ” He had a dollar burning a hole in his pocket—fifteen cents per magazine, and ten cents for candy…or he could buy two cheaper ones and get enough candy for him and Pete to enjoy, ten cents for church and have enough left to put in his bank ‘say yes, say yes!’
Dad scowled and opened his mouth but Mom laid a hand on his arm and smiled at him. “Jonathan, don’t you think he deserves it? He worked so hard yesterday. And you know Clark’s not a spendthrift when it comes to money.”
He watched Dad’s face, and the familiar expression of guilt and sadness and a touch of anger washed across his features before he smiled at Clark. “I guess your mother’s right son, you did a man’s full day of work, go ahead—make sure you’re home in time to wash up before church. And make sure you have something for the plate.”
Clark grinned, happy--beyond his expectations he’d essentially been given the whole day as his to do what he wanted.
He hugged Mom quick and tight, squeezing a squeaky laugh from her—it made Dad laugh and throw an arm around his shoulder and squeeze him, and laughter from his dad was like a summer shower—unexpected, appreciated, and a lift to the spirits.
He turned to trot down the road and Dad called out, “Clark, get that cowboy one for me—I don’t care for that Tarzan fellow much.”
Clark blushed, nodded and laughed I knew he was going to say that! as he dashed off.
As soon as he bought the magazines and a paper twist of candy from the drug store, he ran out to the edge of town, to a small tree lined lake, and sat up in the big gnarled branches of one the trees, ate some of the candy and read one of the stories in his magazine—he was cheering on Tarzan who was pounding the holy heck out of some spies when something hit him on the leg. He looked down and his friend stood below, a big smile lighting up his warm brown face. Clark just couldn’t believe that some folks would say Pete was ugly because of his skin—to Clark he looked so handsome, with his brown eyes, strong jaw, and chocolate skin— why, Pete was just as handsome as Gary Cooper as far as Clark was concerned, plus he was a real good guy, just like Coop.
Clark waved the paper bag at Pete. “I brought candy, there’s a new Tarzan story-- and a Wild West for my dad,” he grinned. He knew Pete liked Wild West too, they used to spend hours playing cowboys and Indians when they were little.
Pete whooped and climbed up into the tree, “There better be root beer barrels, Clark!” He swung next to Clark on the branch, perched there while he grabbed a handful of candy before tossing the bag back to Clark.
“So, how’s everything at home?” Clark asked, and rummaged about in the bag for lemon drops, his favorites.
“Good,” Pete nibbled on a coconut strip and flipped through the western magazine. “Fine, how’s everything with you?” He sighed. “I can’t stay long, don’t want nobody missing me—we’re going to church with my cousins. Which means I gotta get dressed and pomaded and--” Pete made a face. He hated duding up as much as Clark did—then to have to sit with a bunch of girls? Clark heard horror stories about Pete’s evil girl cousins.
Clark forced his face into the appropriate look of outrage, but part of him wanted to go to church with Pete and his evil girl cousins—sounded like fun to be surrounded by so much family. But colored and white folk weren’t supposed to go to church together. His parents did their best to explain to him why it was wrong, but Clark just couldn’t understand-- how it was wrong for whites and coloreds to live or go to church or school together?—I just don’t see the difference between Pete and me. There's no difference under the skin, that's a fact. What makes it a sin to fall in love, or want to marry a colored person?’ he mused and chewed on a licorice whip. Sin. The darn thing’s everywhere, just waiting to trip you up. Clark shook his head and refused to think about sin anymore until church, when he guessed he’d have no choice but to think about it—again.
########
Clark walked along the road to school and entertained himself with thoughts of Lana, her long hair, her pretty face and blue eyes…Blue eyes? Where did that come from? She has hazel eyes, pretty hazel eyes. Behind him, a car rumbled to a stop and blared it’s horn, and he jumped as all thoughts fled.
Chloe and her father-- Great!—Clark trotted back to the car and jumped up on the running board, he stuck his head in the open window. “Hi, Mr. Sullivan, hi Chloe--”
“Get in Clark, I’m running late to work, the station can’t open without me,” he grinned.
“No sir, it can’t,” Clark agreed and slid into the space Chloe made for him.
Mr. Sullivan yelled over the sound of air rushing through the open car windows, “Tell your mom I sure enjoyed that pie, it was nice of her to send it!”
Mom did that from time to time. Chloe and her dad, it was just the two of them, and Mom thought they needed a motherly touch every so often. As she said, “Chloe does a great job but she still could use a little mothering once in a while” And his mother liked the idea of a daughter once in a while. Clark didn’t mind; *he* sure didn’t want to make feed sack aprons.
“Sure thing Mr. Sullivan, I’ll be sure to tell her.”
He sat back and enjoyed the ride. I wish we had a car that didn’t try to hammer the spine out the top of your head. Chloe turned to him and began chatting about the school paper, and Clark nodded and hmmed at the appropriate moments and loved how her eyes sparkled as she talked, loved her big bright smile and thought how exotic Chloe was compared to Smallville girls, so sophisticated and fashionable, so smart. He was glad she considered him her friend.
The Sullivan’s had been in town for three years, but most folks still thought of them as the ‘people from Metropolis’. That was small town thinking in a nutshell, Clark thought, polite but distant and vaguely suspicious if you weren’t born in within town limits. Heaven forbid they might get some new ideas percolating around in their thick skulls. He knew first hand that Chloe and her dad thought a little differently than most folk in town. She was just as friendly to Pete as he was, and they only went to church Sunday morning, and Chloe wasn’t in the youth group, just like him. Clark was kept out because there were too many chances to slip up and reveal his problem, his dad said, and there was a part of him was kind of glad about that.
He bet that Mr. Sullivan wouldn’t insist that Clark never use his gifts—
Sometimes he wondered if maybe he could tell Chloe his deepest secret. Would she still be his friend, or would she think him marked by sin too, or a frightening freak, like that scary circus movie. Clark shivered, remembering how frightened he’d been. It pulled fears he tried to keep buried to the surface.
He snuck another glance at Chloe, golden haired bright eyed girl she was, she’d really captured his heart, he loved her, in a good friends sort of way mostly, though sometimes when he lay in bed at night, he wondered what it would be like to kiss her. He blushed and felt vaguely –wrong--thinking that way, probably because she was like a sister to him. He realized he was staring , and became completely fascinated with his feet when she caught him looking.
Here's the next bit. Sadly, still no porn. We're in the pre-slash part here...but there will be, because it's PWLP, folks...porn with a little plot ot round it out! Mostly because I'm sooo blabby! :)
So, here I go-- tossing the little bird out of the nest--fly you little sob!! Fly!!
Dad stood and helped Mom to her feet, courtly towards her as always. Service was over, at least for the morning and Clark had been thinking so hard he hadn’t even noticed.
With any luck, he’d be able to spend a little time with his friend Pete before the night’s service.
As they filed out, women and men waved their hats and paper fans about, trying to encourage the stale flat air to cool them somewhat, and they exchanged gossip, news, feed prices, and talked about the latest ladies books, what recipes, what dress patterns McCalls had this month…and the biggest news was that of a tent revival coming to town. That was news that even interested Clark. They could be interesting, revivals. There was always good music, and there was usually a picnic lunch and most times, that was the best part…..
He stood out in the dusty yard in front of the church and waited for a break in the adult’s conversation, and jumped in the first time someone stopped to draw a breath, “Dad, can I go into town for a bit? I’ll be home in time for church--Please?” He said in all a rush.
“Clark, I hope you don’t plan on wasting money on those trashy magazines,” Dad growled, like always, and pulled his hat a little firmer on his head as Mom came to stand next to him, her pink and white dress glowing in the sun. Dad was grinning at Mom and Clark knew he wasn’t paying a lick of attention to him, he was so busy watching her pull her white gloves on, and pat her hat back into place. Dad looked at Mom like Whitney-- looked at Lana, and she got little spots of color on her cheeks. Clark rolled his eyes. Geez-- do they have to carry on like that in public? It’s so embarrassing.
Clark heaved a sigh, and coughed a little. “No sir,” Clark fibbed. “I won’t, but I thought maybe I’d get a float or something. If it’s okay, I—unh---have my allowance with me. ” He had a dollar burning a hole in his pocket—fifteen cents per magazine, and ten cents for candy…or he could buy two cheaper ones and get enough candy for him and Pete to enjoy, ten cents for church and have enough left to put in his bank ‘say yes, say yes!’
Dad scowled and opened his mouth but Mom laid a hand on his arm and smiled at him. “Jonathan, don’t you think he deserves it? He worked so hard yesterday. And you know Clark’s not a spendthrift when it comes to money.”
He watched Dad’s face, and the familiar expression of guilt and sadness and a touch of anger washed across his features before he smiled at Clark. “I guess your mother’s right son, you did a man’s full day of work, go ahead—make sure you’re home in time to wash up before church. And make sure you have something for the plate.”
Clark grinned, happy--beyond his expectations he’d essentially been given the whole day as his to do what he wanted.
He hugged Mom quick and tight, squeezing a squeaky laugh from her—it made Dad laugh and throw an arm around his shoulder and squeeze him, and laughter from his dad was like a summer shower—unexpected, appreciated, and a lift to the spirits.
He turned to trot down the road and Dad called out, “Clark, get that cowboy one for me—I don’t care for that Tarzan fellow much.”
Clark blushed, nodded and laughed I knew he was going to say that! as he dashed off.
As soon as he bought the magazines and a paper twist of candy from the drug store, he ran out to the edge of town, to a small tree lined lake, and sat up in the big gnarled branches of one the trees, ate some of the candy and read one of the stories in his magazine—he was cheering on Tarzan who was pounding the holy heck out of some spies when something hit him on the leg. He looked down and his friend stood below, a big smile lighting up his warm brown face. Clark just couldn’t believe that some folks would say Pete was ugly because of his skin—to Clark he looked so handsome, with his brown eyes, strong jaw, and chocolate skin— why, Pete was just as handsome as Gary Cooper as far as Clark was concerned, plus he was a real good guy, just like Coop.
Clark waved the paper bag at Pete. “I brought candy, there’s a new Tarzan story-- and a Wild West for my dad,” he grinned. He knew Pete liked Wild West too, they used to spend hours playing cowboys and Indians when they were little.
Pete whooped and climbed up into the tree, “There better be root beer barrels, Clark!” He swung next to Clark on the branch, perched there while he grabbed a handful of candy before tossing the bag back to Clark.
“So, how’s everything at home?” Clark asked, and rummaged about in the bag for lemon drops, his favorites.
“Good,” Pete nibbled on a coconut strip and flipped through the western magazine. “Fine, how’s everything with you?” He sighed. “I can’t stay long, don’t want nobody missing me—we’re going to church with my cousins. Which means I gotta get dressed and pomaded and--” Pete made a face. He hated duding up as much as Clark did—then to have to sit with a bunch of girls? Clark heard horror stories about Pete’s evil girl cousins.
Clark forced his face into the appropriate look of outrage, but part of him wanted to go to church with Pete and his evil girl cousins—sounded like fun to be surrounded by so much family. But colored and white folk weren’t supposed to go to church together. His parents did their best to explain to him why it was wrong, but Clark just couldn’t understand-- how it was wrong for whites and coloreds to live or go to church or school together?—I just don’t see the difference between Pete and me. There's no difference under the skin, that's a fact. What makes it a sin to fall in love, or want to marry a colored person?’ he mused and chewed on a licorice whip. Sin. The darn thing’s everywhere, just waiting to trip you up. Clark shook his head and refused to think about sin anymore until church, when he guessed he’d have no choice but to think about it—again.
########
Clark walked along the road to school and entertained himself with thoughts of Lana, her long hair, her pretty face and blue eyes…Blue eyes? Where did that come from? She has hazel eyes, pretty hazel eyes. Behind him, a car rumbled to a stop and blared it’s horn, and he jumped as all thoughts fled.
Chloe and her father-- Great!—Clark trotted back to the car and jumped up on the running board, he stuck his head in the open window. “Hi, Mr. Sullivan, hi Chloe--”
“Get in Clark, I’m running late to work, the station can’t open without me,” he grinned.
“No sir, it can’t,” Clark agreed and slid into the space Chloe made for him.
Mr. Sullivan yelled over the sound of air rushing through the open car windows, “Tell your mom I sure enjoyed that pie, it was nice of her to send it!”
Mom did that from time to time. Chloe and her dad, it was just the two of them, and Mom thought they needed a motherly touch every so often. As she said, “Chloe does a great job but she still could use a little mothering once in a while” And his mother liked the idea of a daughter once in a while. Clark didn’t mind; *he* sure didn’t want to make feed sack aprons.
“Sure thing Mr. Sullivan, I’ll be sure to tell her.”
He sat back and enjoyed the ride. I wish we had a car that didn’t try to hammer the spine out the top of your head. Chloe turned to him and began chatting about the school paper, and Clark nodded and hmmed at the appropriate moments and loved how her eyes sparkled as she talked, loved her big bright smile and thought how exotic Chloe was compared to Smallville girls, so sophisticated and fashionable, so smart. He was glad she considered him her friend.
The Sullivan’s had been in town for three years, but most folks still thought of them as the ‘people from Metropolis’. That was small town thinking in a nutshell, Clark thought, polite but distant and vaguely suspicious if you weren’t born in within town limits. Heaven forbid they might get some new ideas percolating around in their thick skulls. He knew first hand that Chloe and her dad thought a little differently than most folk in town. She was just as friendly to Pete as he was, and they only went to church Sunday morning, and Chloe wasn’t in the youth group, just like him. Clark was kept out because there were too many chances to slip up and reveal his problem, his dad said, and there was a part of him was kind of glad about that.
He bet that Mr. Sullivan wouldn’t insist that Clark never use his gifts—
Sometimes he wondered if maybe he could tell Chloe his deepest secret. Would she still be his friend, or would she think him marked by sin too, or a frightening freak, like that scary circus movie. Clark shivered, remembering how frightened he’d been. It pulled fears he tried to keep buried to the surface.
He snuck another glance at Chloe, golden haired bright eyed girl she was, she’d really captured his heart, he loved her, in a good friends sort of way mostly, though sometimes when he lay in bed at night, he wondered what it would be like to kiss her. He blushed and felt vaguely –wrong--thinking that way, probably because she was like a sister to him. He realized he was staring , and became completely fascinated with his feet when she caught him looking.
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(no subject)
3/30/06 10:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
3/30/06 10:20 pm (UTC)Be careful--it gets kind of--ew! *grin*