On looking back on the world according to Clark, there really seemed to be very little that disturbed him. Sure, he is the ‘King of Angst’ and carries the weight upon his shoulders. But he is usually able to put that aside for the most part, because the other portions of his life tip the scales and make him content.

But on this same day, every year the tides inexplicably change for Clark. He knows this day is coming. All the signs are there and he begins to lose his calm as the anticipation of this evilest of evil days draws nearer. He checks the calendar daily, a month in advance and marks each new day off with a pen. His mother stands back and watches this morning ritual and tries to comfort him as his shoulders sag lower and lower with each morning leading up to ‘the day’. She pats him on the back and reassures him that he will live through this horrific day, as he always does; but no kindness helps as the dread creeps into his soul. His father just watches this ceremony with a stunning amount of control. He understands Clark does not need any of his usual platitudes, so he shakes his head, turns to his wife, winks, and walks away. He does not allow his face to show any reaction until he is well out of Clark’s line of vision.

You see, the appearance of concern helps Clark greatly during this time of year. Anything less than parental support on this dreaded day, ups the freak-out meter in Clark and (as his parents have learned) this is not a pleasant event.

Murphy’s Law states, “If anything can go wrong, it will.” The day had arrived. The day he ‘hated’. The day he dreads every year with ever fiber in his body. The day where Murphy’s Law was written just for him. He was nauseous just thinking about it.

He crawled slowly out of bed and slowly patted into the bathroom to take his shower. Dread. Dear God in heaven, he hated today. He leaned in and turned on the shower knobs and waited for the temperature to adjust. He removed his clothes and left them on the bathroom rug. He glanced in at the warm, inviting water, but looked at it like it was going to bite him. Dread. He hesitantly stuck his toe in the water and feeling comfortable with this, added his whole leg. Safe. His body was creeping ever so slowly underneath the flowing stream. He stood firm, closed the curtain, and felt confident to continue. He stood with his back facing the water and leaned his head back under the shower. The feeling was glorious. He reached up his hands and rubbed at his hair. Ahhhh. He lowered a hand over his face to brush the water from his eyes and searched for the shampoo. Not there. He decided then to forgo shampooing his hair this morning and reached for the soap to continue his shower. No soap. It’s starting.

“Mom!” He called out from the running shower and waited for the knock on the door. “MOM!” Irritation was rising. And then, a knock on the door.

“Clark? What is it sweetheart?” Martha spoke to him through the closed bathroom door.

“Mom, there isn’t any soap or shampoo in here. I’m dripping wet! Can you bring me some?”

“Oh sorry sweetheart! I scrubbed the shower stall yesterday and took the shampoo bottle out to refill it. I’ll be right back.”

“Thanks Mom.” Clark rolled his eyes. He hated this day!

She returned a few moments later. He heard her try to open the door. “Clark, the door is locked.” Clark rolled his eyes again. “Can you unlock this door please?”

He sighed. He hated getting out of the shower before drying off. “Just a minute.” He pulled back the shower curtain and stepped his foot on the rug. His foot then started the slow slide forward bunching up the bathroom rug in the process. His other leg was still inside the bathtub. Oh God. The forward motion halted as his leg came in contact with the cabinet. He was doing a mid air split. He braced himself on the counter and lifted his leg out of the tub. As he stood, he looked at his dripping form in the mirror. He sighed again and his expression drooped as the streak of bad luck had already begun.

“What was that thump?” Martha called from outside the bathroom door.

“It’s nothing, Mom. The rug just slipped out from under me. I’m ok.”

“Oh, I must have put too much polish on the floor.”

Clark opened the door a crack and reached his hand out to retrieve the soap and shampoo. “Thanks Mom.”

“You’re welcome honey. Look Clark, I haven’t had a chance to do laundry this week and I noticed that you are out of flannels. I’ve put one of your father’s clean shirts on your bed.”

Clark winced. “You didn’t pick out one of those bold patterns, did you Mom?”

“Now Clark, your father has nice shirts. It won’t kill you to wear one of them just for today.”

Clark sighed. “Thanks Mom.”

If he walked down the stairs any slower, he honestly would have stumbled over his dragging feet. He felt dreadfully uncomfortable in father’s shirt and as he reached the landing at the bottom of the stairs he steeled himself in preparation for the barrage of comments his parents would heap on him. He knew that if they complimented him, he’d be toast at school.

“Oh, see sweetheart! Don’t you look smart today?” Martha was beaming at him.

“Morning son, looking kinda dapper today, aren’t we?” Jonathan was chuckling to himself as he poured orange juice into the glasses on the table.

Clark grimaced. “Mom, I can just wear a shirt you haven’t washed. It’s ok.” His father looked hurt. Clark felt like a piece of dirt.

He walked over to the calendar hanging on the refrigerator and bent down to flip it over to a new month. April. April 1st. April Freaking Fool’s Day. It had arrived. He reached for the pen and drew a skull and crossbones.

His mother came into the kitchen. “Funny, Clark.”

Clark smiled in response.

Breakfast was surprisingly uneventful. Martha took pity on Clark and served his favorite blueberry pancakes with sausage and orange juice, hoping that would perk up his mood. Clark appreciated the effort and polished off his plate with a series of yummy sounds that brought a smile to his parents’ faces. “Thanks Mom…Dad.” He smiled at them and it warmed their hearts.

He got up and walked into the kitchen, carefully placing his plates inside the sink, then turning to leave. He noticed his mom’s drying towel lying on the floor so he bent over to pick it up for her and turned back to the sink to hang it over the edge. Unfortunately in the process, he knocked over his mother’s favorite antique porcelain tea kettle which had been sitting upside down on the counter drying. It was a decorative heirloom of a sorts and had been in her family for three generations.

He was so worked up about today being April Fool’s Day and so shocked at his mistake that it never occurred to him to use his speed to catch it before it landed on it’s side on the ceramic counter. He watched as the spout snapped off in one clean break.

Clark’s mouth just opened in shock. The dreaded curse of this day was already affecting him and he hadn’t even made it out the door to school yet. He watched as both his parents jumped up from the breakfast table and looked on in unison at the fallen teapot. Clark put his hands to his forehead. “Mom, I’m so sorry.” He felt horrible.

Martha’s eyes filled with tears, “I know you are honey. It’s ok.” Then she turned into Jonathan’s embrace. Clark felt like such a heel.

“I think I can glue it back together. It’s a clean break.” He offered.

“Son, you get off to school. It’s ok. I’ll fix up some ‘poxy and glue it back up good as new.” Clark gave a weak smile in response, kissed his Mom on the head and shuffled over to the front door to grab his backpack.

* * * * *

He walked out the front gate and stood on the edge of the driveway as he watched the school bus drive slowly up to the stop. There were pot holes galore along this stretch of road and while he never before paid them any mind, today he became completely aware of the pools of water that rested inside them as the bus’s tires rolled over a particularly large one sending a spray of muddy water all down the front of Clark’s jacket and jeans. If Clark hadn’t been thinking of his mom’s sad face, he would have noticed the oncoming shower and jumped clear away from being it’s target. But today, the bad karma was following him and he looked like a child’s finger painting project to show for it. The bus door opened and Mrs. Davis, the school bus driver, fussed, “Oh Clark, you let the puddle get you this time honey!”

Clark just nodded his head and walked up the bus stairs. Instantly he was greeted by giggles from the students and he lowered his head and took the first seat on the bus behind the driver, wanting a quick escape once they arrived at school. He unzipped his muddy jacket and wiggled out of it. He rolled it into a ball and stuffed it in his backpack. The school bus was pulling up in front of Smallville High School and Clark rose before it came to a stop. Mrs. Davis spoke out, “Clark Kent, remain seated until the bus comes to a complete stop!” Clark turned a bright cherry red and sat back down.

He raced down the stairs of the bus towards the entrance to the school, hoping to make it inside the bathroom to wipe off his pants before anyone noticed his condition. He kept his head down as he quickly strode through the crowd of students. It seemed as if the sea of people parted for him and all he heard around him was laughter and comments. “Woe dude, is there a power shortage?!” Clark looked up after hearing that and then it dawned on him that he had removed his jacket exposing his dad’s brilliantly colored flannel shirt. The blush started in his cheeks and crept down to his neck, and he picked up his pace to escape his embarrassment. “Hey Clark, where’s the fire?”

He recognized that voice and slowed down to allow Chloe to catch up. “This day stinks Chloe! I hate April 1st!” He was scowling as the two of them walked side by side.

“I see someone has already played a joke on you.” She smiled at him as her eyes took in his appearance.

He leveled her with a glare that would have stopped even the toughest town bully, but Chloe only saw humor in it. “Oh Clark, relax! You always get so worked up on April Fool’s. If you weren’t so darn gullible, people would probably leave you alone!” He knew she was right. “You oughtta go into the bathroom Clark. Looks like the mud spattered you right under your nose. Kinda makes you look like you have a brown boogie running down your face.” She was looking at him a little disgusted. His eyes went wide and he threw his hand over his nose and tore down the hallway to the men’s room.

He rushed over to the mirror and removed his hand from his face. His face was clean as a whistle. Darn you Chloe! That wasn’t funny! He turned to get a couple paper towels from the bin to run them under cold water. He had obviously been the first to turn on the faucet this morning because the water came out in a three violent bursts effectively wetting him down the front of his jeans. Clark stood back with his hands outward, not sure what he was going to do. Now he looked like he wet his pants and still there was mud all over his jeans. He was shaking his head in disbelief as the bathroom door swung open. He quickly grabbed his backpack and held it in front of him as he escaped out the door and headed for the Torch, hoping to hide away in peace until first period.

As he burst through the door of the Torch, he was greeted by both Pete and Chloe. Clark let out a defeated breath, but kept his backpack firmly planted in front of his crotch. He sent a glare in Chloe’s direction who was smiling in response. “Funny,” he said sarcastically.

“You’re too easy, Clark.” Chloe was obviously proud of herself.

“What’d I miss?” Pete was looking between the two of them.

“Nothing!” Clark shouted a little louder than necessary.

He lowered his backpack to sit down when both Pete and Chloe noticed his dripping, wet pants. They looked to eachother and burst out laughing. Tears were running down their faces.

“Man Clark, you look like you wet yourself!” Pete was wiping his eyes. “I mean, isn’t it bad enough that you look like a walking Christmas tree…with that shirt…” he was gasping for breath…”did you have to go and wet yourself too?!” Pete and Chloe were hugging eachother as they tried to compose themselves. Clark seethed.

When finally the laughter slowed, Chloe asked Clark how long he studied for the Chemistry quiz they were having this afternoon. Pete added that it was going to be a killer test; one third their grade! Clark just stared at them and panic set in as he realized that he totally forgot that this was the day Mr. Thompson was giving the dreaded test. If he hadn’t been so worked up about this day drawing nearer, he would have remembered to study. “Oh no!” Was all he could manage, and he put his hands on his head as leaned on the desk. Chloe and Pete stopped their laughing and looked to one another as they realized this was turning out to be another famous Kent April 1st.

Fourth period had arrived and Clark’s stomach started to growl. He was looking forward to lunch next period. His eyes focused on the clock as the droll voice of his Ms. Tuttle tried to liven up Calculus. As he contemplated what kind of sandwich his mother packed for him today, a realization slowly crept into him that he had forgotten his lunch at home in the refrigerator in all the confusion surrounding the broken teapot this morning. His face sagged. He reached for his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Empty. Just great! He didn’t even have money to buy lunch. Just then, a muffled voice from the loud speaker interrupted Ms. Tuttle’s Calculus lesson. “Excuse the interruption Ms. Tuttle. Please send Clark Kent to the office at the conclusion of class.” Ms. Tuttle raised her head to the speaker and replied with a bit too much authority, “You got it.” Then she looked accusatorily over at Clark as she made sure Clark heard. Clark was slinking down in his chair.

The buzzer dismissed the class and Clark slowly rose from his chair. A thousand scenarios had flitted across his mind as to the nature of this requested office visit. He was a bundle of nerves by the time he walked through the door to the office. He stood just inside the room and clasped his hands in front of him. He shifted his feet uncomfortably as he waited to be recognized. Fear was transparent in his eyes. “You Clark Kent?” The lady behind the counter addressed him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Here, your mom dropped this off for you. Said you forgot it at home.” She handed him a brown lunch bag and gave him a wink. He took the bag and noticed the writing on the front of it, ‘You forgot this sweetheart. Don’t worry about the teapot. Mom.’ She drew a picture of an eyeball, then a red shaped heart, followed by the letter U. She finished it off at the bottom with a kiss; obviously she had applied red lipstick to accomplish this last bit. Clark smiled to himself, but was a little embarrassed by the open display of affection on his lunch bag and rolled up the bag tightly, covering the writing. He thanked the lady behind the counter before he walked out towards the lunch room.

Chloe and Pete had saved a seat for him at their table. He greeted them with a smile. “Your day going any better Clark?” Pete sincerely wanted to know.

Clark pulled out his chair and went to sit down. “A little.” He smiled just as he heard a cracking noise and his chair collapsed underneath him, sending him crashing down to the floor.

The table of football players hooted and hollered as Clark looked on in embarrassment. “Have an energy surge Kent? That’s one helluva shirt you have there!” They roared from their joke.

Chloe was livid. She got up and marched over to their table. “That was a slimy thing to do!” And she heaved her glass of milk at the group and turned tale to run. Clark and Pete jumped up at the same time as Chloe ran behind them for protection. The football players were already taking aim.

“Food fight! Food fight! Food fight!” The entire lunchroom was now chanting. Food was flying in every direction. Chloe was ducking for cover behind Clark and Pete’s bodies, every so often tossing a lone biscuit or cookie in the football players’ direction.

Clark was covered in everyone’s uneaten lunch and Pete wasn’t faring much better. Pete had joined in the fray, but Clark just turned to wrap his arms around Chloe to protect her from the onslaught of sausage dogs flying her way.

Principal Reynolds entered the room and blew a whistle. The room fell silent as everyone looked on at his anger. “To whom do we owe the pleasure of starting this little shindig?”

All eyes fell on Clark and Chloe respectively.

“You two, follow me…now.” Principal Reynolds turned and both Clark and Chloe walked out after them.

Clark leaned down to Chloe as they walked solemnly through the hallway and whispered, “Why do I always get into trouble? I didn’t do anything!”

* * * * *

“One week’s detention Chloe! My parents are going to kill me! I didn’t even do anything!!” Clark was feeling sick inside. “You see, this is why I hate this day. It starts out like crap and it just gets worse as the day goes on. What else can go wrong?”

“Well Clark, I hate to point the obvious out to you, but it’s sixth period; time for the dreaded Chemistry test.” She grabbed his hand and led him into class. His groan came out much louder than he intended. “Just relax Clark and the answers will come to you. You’ll be fine.”

“Clark, man you seriously got busted!” Pete was practically jumping out of his seat from excitement. “That was so cool! We totally slimed those lousy football geeks!”

Clark just groaned again and shook his head. He mumbled under his breath, “I didn’t do anything.”

Clark’s heart was pounding out of his chest as Mr. Thompson was passing out the tests, face down on their desks. “Remember class, this test counts for one third of your grade. I hope you are adequately prepared.”

“Please just shoot me.”

“What did you say Mr. Kent?” Mr. Thompson stopped passing out the tests and the whole class looked in Clark’s direction.

“Nothing sir. I’m sorry. It was nothing really.”

* * * * *

Chloe was kind enough to drive Clark home after they finished mopping up the floor in the cafeteria. He had missed the afternoon bus, and Chloe took pity on him and drove him home.

“I’m sorry I got you into this mess Clark. I just hate those guys for picking on you every year. I couldn’t stop my hand from tossing that cup of milk at them.”

Clark smiled in her direction, but began to squirm a bit in the seat. “It’s ok Chloe. We only have 4 more days left of detention; but mostly this miserable day is just about over. I think my bad karma is gone.” He was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable in his seat as it dawned on him that in all the craziness of the day, he never stopped to take a potty break. He crossed his legs.

“Don’t jinx yourself Clark.” She reached over and squeezed his hand.

As the Kent farm came into view, Clark couldn’t help but smile. The relief he felt from being home was palatable. He felt as if the most dreaded portion of this miserable day was behind him and now he could allow himself time to relax. He shifted in his seat once more, very quickly adjusting himself.

“You ok over there Clark?” Chloe noticed him trying to find a comfortable position.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He smiled hoping that’d be enough of a deterrent to any further questions.

“Ok then, I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. Bye, Clark.”

Clark removed himself from the car and grabbed his backpack. He waved to Chloe as she drove away down the driveway, then he turned and supersped into the house. “MOM! I’m home!” He paused to listen for a response, then repeated “Dad? I’m home!” No one answered.

He was shifting from one foot to the next and needed to get to the bathroom. He tossed his backpack on the counter in a rush and heard the sound of glass crashing on the kitchen floor. “Oh no!”

He hesitantly walked around to the kitchen see what damage he had done and saw his mother’s antique teapot once again fallen over. “Oh God!” Apparently his Dad had reglued the spout and set it on the counter to dry. Shards of glass were everywhere. He looked around the room, dumbfounded for a brief moment, then headed over to the hall closet to retrieve a broom and dust pan. As he brushed away the pieces into the dust pan, he quietly spoke out an apology to his absent mother. He shook his head with shame.

He saw so many slivers still remaining on the floor so he went back to the hall closet to grab one of his mom’s dust clothes so he could wet it and pick up the microscopic pieces remaining. All the dust clothes were sitting on the top shelf under piles of boxes. Yet one tiny corner of a cloth was peeking out under the weight of the boxes. He decided to practice his Houdini skills and took hold of that tiny section and yanked at it quickly. Unfortunately in response, everything came crashing down on top of him, including two lead boxes with their glowing green contents which were tucked way back inside the closet.

Clark yelped in pain and stumbled backwards as he began to unceremoniously fall on his bottom with a thud. He knocked over the hallway table on his descent which held a note from his parents, ‘Clark, Dad and I went to the feed store and will be back by 4:30.’

He sat in his spot shaking as the kryptonite rested comfortably beside his lap and he fell over hard onto his side. He twisted his head to check the clock and gasped for air from his effort. 4:00 pm. Oh no! He returned his stare to the glowing rocks as his body began to convulse on the floor. The room began to twirl around him and he closed his eyes to the welcoming darkness. I hate this day.

His bladder released onto the floor.