Date: Sat, 31 Dec 2005 18:03:54 -0500 From: Miss Meehan Subject: Trapped in the Smallville Closet Smallville belongs to DC comics and Warner Brothers. Trapped in the Closet belongs to R. Kelly I'm just borrowing the two. Trapped in the Smalliville Closet -- Part I -- Trapped in the Kent House Jonathan came home early. He had been in Granville at a farm equipment auction. He called out to his wife of nearly twenty years. "Sweetheart, I'm home." The scrambling of feet above him made him race up the stairs, stopping for his shotgun along the way. His poor family had been through so many home invasions and mutant hostage situations that Jonathan decided he didn't want to take any chances. As he turned on the top landing, he met his wife Martha coming out of the bathroom. Her auburn hair hung dark and wet on her shoulders. She was clutching a skimpy yellow towel around her torso. She seemed nervous. "Sweetheart, everything okay?" Jonathan asked, not willing to release his grip on his gun too quickly. "Oh, it's you honey. I was taking a shower and...I heard a noise. I was afraid..." "Oh darling, I didn't mean to frighten you. I heard noises up here and thought...well knowing our family's past history." Martha gave a nervous laugh, "Honey why don't you go downstairs. I'll be down in a minute and make you some lunch." "Sounds great." Jonathan turned to head down the stairs, thankful all was well. Halfway down he heard a cell phone go off. It sounded like it was coming from the bathroom. "Sweetheart, did you have your cell phone in the bathroom?" "Um...yes, I was waiting for Clark to call. He forgot the grocery list and said he'd call back to find out what we needed." "Aren't you going to answer it? It might be him." Martha stood petrified. "Sweetheart, the phone." Jonathan indicated by nodding towards the bathroom. "Yes, the phone," Martha smiled weakly before turning. Suddenly a small thud and a muffled "Shit" had Jonathan flying up the stairs, shotgun cocked. "Jonathan wait..." Martha shrieked. He kicked open the door. Stooping there stark naked, scrambling to retrieve the ringing phone from the pocket of pants discarded by the shower was...