Lois Lane, as usual, speed-walked out the front revolving doors of the Daily Planet, Clark getting caught in them, also as usual. To avoid the hassle of hailing a cab, she decided to walk. The local library was only a few crowded blocks down the street anyway.

Clark was babbling after her, chattering about some story and some crazy picture that Jimmy got of it. He continued to follow her, bumping and jostling the people that had just stepped out of her way. She stopped at a stoplight at the next corner and Clark caught up.

"You know, Lois, I've notied you really don't eat very much. That can't be healy for you. Would you like to maybe stop somewhere and grab a bite to eat? I, I mean, if you want to." He stammered to a stop.

She wheeled around, prepared to rail on him for not concentrating on the story they were researching. 'Oh no wait, he's blushing…Did he just ask me out on a date?' She thought, hurriedly changing tracks.

"Well, I guess I probably should eat something. But would you mind waiting until after I stop at the library? I need some stats for that rogue math tutor story I'm working on. Is that okay with you?" She turned away from him and, expecting a positive response, she moved forward across the street.

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The bank at the top of the street that Miss Lane was crossing was in total chaos.

A holdup with a clueless robber. Not only was he not getting his money, but people were running around like crazy! They ran out of the bank doors and out into the street, yelling and shoving to get out of that bank. Bumping not only each other, but also the robber's getaway car, which was idling in neutral in the street.

As his car started rolling down the street, he pointed his gun in six different directions, at six different fleeing civilians. The car began rolling down the steep hill toward the mass of people crossing the street. Lois was bent over, picking up her planner that had been bumped out of her hands. The papers scattered everywhere as the getaway car got away, escaping passenger-less down the hill toward her.

Suddenly a blue streak of light caught the car up, passing just over Lois; turned back. She unknowingly finished picking up her papers and kept walking. The car, tires still rolling, sailed up the street 20 feet above the asphalt and alighted, in the only open parking space, a handicapped one.

The blue and red blur sailed into the bank and out, almost instantaneously, carrying the bewildered gunman, his legs tied up by a giant metal spider. No, a turnstile from the bank till line, bent out of recognizable shape around his shins. He was placed on the top of the car and the turnstile was hurriedly welded to the roof.

Superman, the aforementioned blur, of course; spoke to the stunned and puzzled meter man who was trying to finish writing a parking ticket for the car in the handicapped stall with two handprints embossed deeply in the license plate and bumper.

"Go easy on him, sir, he truthfully doesn't have full use of his legs." He smiled in good humor, nodding to the former turnstile. Superman shot off as police sirens screamed around the street corner.

The parking attendant shook his head, drew a large "S" over the half-written parking ticket and tore it in half.

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Lois Lane continued walking down the street and stopped in front of the library. As she looked at the front door she finally realized that something was wrong.

"Cla—!"

Clark Kent came running through the crowd of people with an odd half smile on his face, "Golly, Lois, wait up! Why in the world do you walk so fast? Can't you slow down for a minute?"