Exceptional A little Superman alternate tale What If Uncle Buck raised Superman? by lancellot

It felt like a dream, at best, or a twisted nightmare, at worst. Clark stared at the ruins of what used to be his house, and, not for the first time, wondered why he didn’t run home.  His parents had always taught him to respect authority, to be quiet, be invisible, and whenever possible do as the other kids did.  Clark, had always tried to be a good son, so when the tornado siren went off, and the teacher hustled his class into the storm shelter, he willingly went down with them. “Why didn’t I check on them? Why didn’t I even look their way?”  Warm salty tears ran down his face as he racked his young mind for a way to undo what had been done. “If I could fly, I could spin the Earth backwards. Maybe that’ll reverse time?” Clark wiped away his tears and then froze. He turned toward his family’s equally destroyed barn, and listened in horror. In a cloud of dust he streaked to the barn and skidded to halt beside his only surviving relative. “Um…Clark, do you want to explain why there’s a God-damn space ship in the barn?” Uncle Buck was not a man who bit his words, not even when speaking to a child. To him children were just small adults with big heads. Clark opened his mouth, but the lie that formed in his head died on his lips. Johnathan and Martha Kent were honest people, and the only time they lied was to protect his secret. Clark looked at the ship, and then up at an uncle he barely knew.  If my folks had been honest about what I am, then I would not have had to pretend to be something I wasn’t.  I would have been sent home, and I could have saved them. It was simple childish logic, not even close to what really would have happened, but Clark didn’t understand that. In time he would, but not then. “It’s the ship that brought me here.” Clark waited for the shock and denial to come. “You mean Johnathan was telling the truth all those years ago? Damn, I thought he was just embarrassed about cheating on Martha, and having a son by another woman.” Buck put his hand on Clark’s head and tousled his hair. “Well, the first thing we need to do is cover this up before someone spots it.” Clark looked up at the man, who was now his only family, with amazement, and for the first time since his parents’ death, he felt a little better. I guess he is pa’s brother after all. ****** Life went on at the Kent farm, and with Clark being able to use his powers in front of his uncle, repairs were done quickly. In fact, Buck seemed to prefer Clark used them; provided he was careful. “The way I see it, Clark, you having super powers is like Hank Aaron being a god at baseball. It would be just as much a sin for you not to use your gifts, as it would be to tell Hank to lay down a bunt.” One evening Buck and Clark decided to have dinner in town at the local I-Hop. Clark was explaining what he had learned in history class when in walked Lana Lang and her mother, Rachelle. Rumor around town was that before she was pregnant with Lana, Rachelle was a fashion model in Metropolis. This was widely believed because both mother and daughter were considered the most beautiful females in town, and the fact that there was no Mister Lang. “Wow, Rachelle is some woman. I would love to see her butt-ass naked on a pole,” Uncle Buck whispered real low. He knew Clark had super hearing, and often whispered so the boy could practice fine tuning it. “Okay, Clark, do they match, and are they just as sexy as she is?” Clark didn’t need to ask what his uncle meant. Playing X-ray was his Uncle’s favorite game or exercise as Buck called it. “What’s your guess?” Clark smiled, as the older man squinted, and rubbed the bristles on his chin. “Well, it’s Friday and most folks do their laundry on Saturday, so I’ll say, white bra and a red thong.” He turned to the thirteen year old boy, who closed his eyes and shook his head. “Nope, white bra and no panties,” Clark replied with a smile. “I was close; shaved or natural?” “Landing strip and a little bunny tattoo.” Clark took a long sip of his milkshake while Buck sighed and stared at the woman. “Stop looking, they’re talking about us.” Clark closed his eyes and turned his ear towards the pair. Uncle Buck was not a patient man when attractive women were concerned. “What are they saying, boy? Does Rachelle think I’m a dirty old man? I am, but does she know it?” “Lana is telling her mom, that I am in her English class, and…” Clark stopped and his face turned red. “And what? Come on, boy, don’t leave me in suspense.” “She…she says I’m cute, but I don’t talk much.” Clark felt hot, which was a surprise since he never felt hot or cold.  With shaky hands, he took another sip of his milkshake to cool himself down. “That’s nice, Clark, but what about me?” “Oh, her mom thinks you’re okay; a little scruffy but fixable, whatever that means.” “What it means, my boy,” Buck got out of his seat and tucked in his shirt, “is that you and I are sitting at the wrong table. No panties; hot damn.” **** After spending two hours having dinner with mother and daughter, Clark and Buck walked the women home. The four sat on the Lang’s porch sipping Lemonade and enjoying the moonlight until Rachelle decided to show Buck her antique record collection. Clark and Lana stayed outside, while the adults went upstairs. Ten minutes later the man and boy started the long walk back to the farm. Clark wasn’t tired, he never was, but Buck yawned several times. “So, how did you make out, Clark?” Clark smiled, picked up a pebble and threw it several miles into the sky. “We held hands for a few minutes. It was nice, but I got excited, and then I kind of got scared.  I figured I might break her hand, so I stopped.” Clark threw another rock in obvious frustration. “So, you got to the batter’s box. That’s not bad for your first time in the game. You’re probably old enough for first base,” Uncle Buck turned and waved his finger at him, “but no further than that. Not ‘till you’re older.” “But… what if…if I try to kiss her, and I knock all her teeth out?” “Oh, that won’t happen.” “How, do you know that?” “Well, you’re walking at the same speed as an old man, right? You’re stepping on the ground and aren’t leaving craters, right? Clark, you may not realize it, but every day, all day, you show incredible restraint and precise muscle control. You’re so good at it; you don’t even know you’re doing it. My boy, you have nothing to worry about, nothing at all. When the time is right a fine young woman will show you her record collection too.” Clark's trade mark smile returned. “You weren’t looking at records, Uncle Buck.” “Oh, peeking were we?” “No, but you were breathing pretty hard, and your heart was pounding like a drum.” “Yeah, I guess we did get a bit carried away.” “Not Ms. Lang; her breathing and heart were kind of slow, like she was sleepy.” “Well, I'm sure she’s fast asleep now.” Buck smiled to himself. Clark tilted his head back. “No, she’s awake, her heart is beating faster than yours was, and there’s some kind of buzzing in her room. I don’t know what…” “Never mind that, Clark.” Buck yawned again. “Oh well, my ex-wife always said I was good at making myself happy. I guess she was right.” “I don’t know, Uncle Buck, you make me happy most every day.” The old man looked down at the growing boy, and put a hand on his strong shoulder. “You make me happy too, Clark, happier than I’ve ever been.  Almost got yourself to first base. I think I got myself an idea about a sport you could play.” “But, Pa always said I couldn’t play any sports. I could kill someone by accident.” “Oh, that’s only in contact sports, but baseball is a non-contact sport. Hell, it’s America’s game and you’re about as American as apple pie. Besides, you’re going to need a career one day. You don’t want to end up working in the mailroom of some newspaper.” “You really think I could be a ball player. If I make the team next year, I could be…I could be normal, and Lana would surely want to date me.” “My boy, normal is for bench warmers. What you want is to be a superstar, and from the look in Lana’s eyes, I’d say she wants to date you today.” ****** “It’s the bottom of the ninth; Metropolis is down one, with one on, and coming to plate for his major league debut, the young farm-raised kid from Kansas, Clark Kent. What do we know about this rookie, Fred?” “Not much, Sam. He was discovered by a scout on the last leg of his journey. The rumor is the kid has hero potential and one hell of an arm. I spoke to him a week ago, and he was very happy to get his shot. He told  me that making big leagues was a dream of his and his late Uncle. He said his parents gave him life, and his Uncle showed him how to live.” “That’s a real American tale, Fred. Young Kent steps to the plate. He eyes the pitcher with an innocent gleam in his baby blues. Here comes the pitch, Kent swings….” “Oh my God! He got all of that one. It’s going…going…gone. Home Run….home run! Metropolis wins! The Knight’s win the first game of the season! Did you see that swing, Sam?  What a hit.” “I saw it, and so did the fans. The crowd is going nuts. Well, ladies and gentlemen, there’s a new hero in Metropolis and his name is Clark Kent. I have a feeling that’s a name that’ll go down in history.” Recognized Author Notes Just a little bit of fun.

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