By Sara Kraft (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Submitted: February, 2002
Summary: The reality-challenged FoLC returns. Where has she been for two years? Fifth in the author's series of "journal entries" begun with "Loising a Grip on Reality."
Why has it been two years, you ask? You've been worried about me? Well, unfortunately it was out of my control. I'm sorry to have made you all worried. This was as soon as I could make contact. This will be quite a long entry, as I have much to tell you FoLCs. You see, I've been locked up for two years. Why, you ask? What was it that set me off this time? I'm ashamed to say it was after watching a terrible movie only to find out it was directed by Don Scardino. I know what you're thinking, but I'm serious. Sure, there were other little occurrences, but this was the final straw.
They thought it would be amusing (well, I suppose their true intention was to show me 'reality') to send me to Metropolis, IL. They shipped me off there to show me that although Metropolis may be a real city, Superman does not live there. Lois and Clark don't live there. I will not see a man flying through the skies under his own power and I will not find a newspaper called the Daily Planet.
Well, there were flaws in their plan. First off, they didn't even let me look at a map to see that Hyperion, Clinton, and Carter streets did 'not' exist. I was not permitted to walk about the streets or look for the Daily Planet. Phone access was denied. I couldn't call information to clarify any of these details. I don't know why they were so worried. They didn't know I was on to their little plan. Perhaps their computer expertise was not up to par.
You, my friends, know what I'm talking about. You see, these people didn't do their research well enough, they didn't even watch the show! Had they seen it, they would know what we know. This was so obviously a virtual world. And, come on, Metropolis, Illinois? Please. They didn't even go for a state that didn't rhyme with New Troy. Amateurs!
But back to the point. What did they let me do? Well, they were bright enough to realize that I was a good writer, so they encouraged me to write stories, essays, and novels so long as they didn't include certain key words. Well, this is where their intelligence ends; they had no formal knowledge of Lois and Clark. What did I do you ask? I wrote fanfic: episode rewrites, else world stories, WaFFy, dramatic. The suckers were impressed with my abilities. They loved these stories I was writing about a couple named John and Jane Smith. (You'll see these on the archive soon, after I go through and change all the names).
They also let me watch television, limited of course. They were much impressed when those Radio Shack commercials came on and I didn't bat an eyelash. They were trying to keep that show "Ripley's" from me, but I found a way around the programming block. After demonstrating my intense coolness and seemingly indifferent recognition of the host, they let me continue to watch.
Of course I was explicitly NOT trusted on the internet, thus explaining my extended absence from FoLCdom. My writing, the television (with brief glimpses of Teri and Dean), and my great amusement with my captors' lack of intelligence, sustained me for two years. Only after this apparent isolation from reality did they deem me fit to face the world again.
That brings us to the present day. They sent me to live with my father seeing as I had no income nor savings with which to live. My father is now fairly lax with me, knowing that the violent phase has passed. I don't harbor any animosity towards him; had this imprisonment not been state mandated, he would not have sent me. He even saved all my L&C tapes and memorabilia. We just are careful to hide this from the social worker during her monthly visits. He has even set me up on line again.
My father tries not to act troubled when he comes home to see Lois and Clark playing on the TV yet again. In fact, he rather enjoys the post-revelation episodes. When he finds me glued to the computer screen in my room at all hours, night after night, he just rolls his eyes and inquires:
"What are you doing?"
"What are you reading?"
"What kind of stories."
I finally admit, with a sheepish grin, "Lois and Clark stories."
"Okay. Go to bed soon."
An hour later, I'm still up. I have a lot of catching up to do. Tons of fanfic to read, plus I have to edit my own stories for posting. I'm even trying to participate in the Kerth Awards this year. Well, I'd best be getting back to reading; these stories don't nominate themselves, you know.