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The ivy-clad ruin of St. Mary's is in the grounds of the Burnley Hall Estate. The building sees little sunlight and set in the trees it is extremely easy to miss it.
St. Mary survived the Reformation, but the parish was then absorbed into the neighbouring parishes Winterton and West Somerton. The building then operated as a chapel of ease to Burnley Hall until the 17th. century, before falling into disuse. It is likely that the chancel was lost and in ruins even before that, and probably this accelerated the church's demise. Today only the 13th. century west tower, now minus its belfry stage, and the 15th. century nave remain.
Growing in the middle of the nave there is a huge oak tree called 'The Witches Leg'. The logical explanation for this is that a squirrel must have buried an acorn in the ruined nave.
However, according to local legend, it is said that a witch with a wooden leg was buried alive in the the church’s foundations and the church was built around her to contain her evil. As she lay in the ground suffocating with bloodthirsty onlookers standing over her, she cursed her leg to grow into a tree and destroy the church as revenge for her murder
Others variations on the folklore have the tree called 'The Witch’s Finger', growing from the site of her execution and pointing accusingly towards heaven, while another version says that the witch was taken to the abandoned church by villagers who felt it wise to dig her grave on consecrated ground.
The legend goes on to say that if anybody were to walk around the tree three times, the witch’s spirit would be released, however, it’s believed ghostly monks haunt the church and keep intruders from releasing the spirit.
This sheltered area of Norfolk’s coastline was once a hunting ground for witch-finders from the 1580's up to the days of Matthew Hopkin, 'The Witchfinder General', who's reign of terror lasted from March 1644 until his retirement in 1647. The persecution of so called witches, paid for by the people amounted to state-sanctioned murder. Whipped into a froth of fear and suspicion, the county was quick to condemn and just as fast to commit. If East Somerton’s villagers discovered what they believed to be witchcraft in their midst, they would not have thought before acting.
St. Mary's received Grade; II listed building status on 25th. September 1962. (English Heritage Legacy ID: 402081).
Mademoiselle Eden is wearing jeans from Earth Angel Eden Blair, top is from an OOAK DB fashion, cardigan is Dagamoart, handbag is Little Day Ensemble Véronique Perrin. Earring are JamieShow.
Genre: Morchella
Espèce: Morchella spp. (clade Elata)
Nom français: Morille noire
No de sujet (MttP = sans spécimen): MttP0102
Date: 13 mai 2011
Groupe: Ascomycetes
Cueilleur: Matthieu Sicard
Déterminateur: Matthieu Sicard
Ville: Oka
Latitude: 45,4667
Longitude: -74,0833
Is was a rainy day and this is hand held to boot, but what the heck. The subdued tones kind of suit me. Hope you like them too. :-)
I know all my Flickr buddies have ravenous appetites, so we just need a small dollop of butter and we are all ready to devour this lusciously delicious "Allo Ka Paratha" :)
Have a beautiful weekend you all :)
I'm so in love with this song lately, so song of the day is Sajni by Jaal :)
Explored :)
Bikini-clad Julia Pereira making a splash in the water on the beach in Miami Beach...Pictured: Julia Pereira ..Ref: SPL574028 070713 .Picture by: MCCFL / Splash News..Splash News and Pictures.Los Angeles:310-821-2666.New York:212-619-2666.London:870-934-2666.photodesk@splashnews.com.
...And quite some curves they are too! This wet look copper minidress accents them quite well!
This shiny metallic copper wet look lycra spandex minidress came from greatglam.com. I've matched it up with my super shiny Platino Cleancut Caresse 15 denier pantyhose from shapings.com over Hanes Alive Barely There support hose from onehanesplace.com and my 5" black patent peep toe platform pumps from flirtcatalog.com.
To see more pix of me in other tight, sexy and revealing outfits click this link:www.flickr.com/photos/kaceycdpix/sets/72157623668202157/
To see more pix of me in other outfits from Great Glam click this link: www.flickr.com/photos/kaceycdpix/sets/72157621973539909/
To see more pix of me showing off my legs click this link: www.flickr.com/photos/kaceycdpix/sets/72157623668202157/
To see more pix of me in shiny, wet look lycra spandex outfits click this link: www.flickr.com/photos/kaceycdpix/sets/72157625106117954/
DSC_2503-45
A-Z Challenge 2.0 : Bonus Theme
Bonus Theme - The End
Shenanigans at the Wailing Sireen
There is a pub on the downtown docks known far and wide named the Wailing Sireen.
It is owned and operated by a gentleman( Loose term) known as Brute Burton. Brute is a rather impressive specimen, standing well over 2 meters tall, weighing over 15 stone, and strong enough to have lifted a 600 pound ox to win a wager. Not the type of man, if one is sane, to plays tricks upon!
Now Brute Burton is a retired sailor himself, who had worked the riggings of many a brig that travelled our seven seas. He retired the same day they permanently docked his last birth, a fine 3 Masted schooner christened the HMS Cybelemoon, a ship he had been mated on for the last 12 years. As the schooner was being overhauled, he bought several of the hand engraved exported mahogany planks from the captains quarters, and taking them to the pub he had purchased with his life savings, fashioned them into a bar that ran the whole length of the Wailing Sireen’s west wall.
Most of the many bars located along that old, salt weathered waterfront have a somewhat nasty reputation for being quite rowdy establishments, full of drinkin sailors, wild women, fights breaking out on the minute, and other forms of debauchery and nefarious activities.
But the Wailing Sireen is some what of an anomaly around these parts, for Brute Burton will have none of that rowdiness in his place. Although not perfect, its patrons have become accustomed to obeying the taverns unspoken rules, for by doing so, would mean a quick grab and throw out the BACK doors by Brute, whose best effort once threw a rather drunk sailor across the road and through the doors of the bar on the other side. A massive heave of over 8 stone and 12 meters distance!!
The Wailing Sireen is located close to the quite popular Oceanside gambling casino, Hermes Rest, well known to be an underworld held establishment!
Now one would think, given the clientele of the area, along with Brutes lack of toleration for rowdiness, that the Wailing Sireen pub would be almost void of patrons. But actually the place is usually packed, especially on weekends when the folks from uptown who want a bit of excitement by going down to that somewhat chancy side of town. They start up gambling a bit at the casino, then gather upon the Wailing Sireen, knowing that they will be fairly safe within the old blackened interior of the large pub as they rub elbows with perhaps ( shall we say?) the least desirable members of their society.
^^^^^^^^^^
And so, we now come to the evening of our tale: an early fall evening, full harvest moon just peaking over the tall masts of the ships docked in the small harbour that was the bread and butter of the town that surrounded it.
It is a crowded Friday night, full of sailors in port, college students on a holiday weekend, all mixed in with the wealthier , more daring of the townsfolk. The narrow sidewalks that line the cobblestone street are crowded with a score or more of happily liquored souls wondering to and from the casino, bar to bar, in search of satisfying whatever the reason is that brings them out to this area.
As one looks upon this scene, they may notice a rather handsome couple swishing in and out amongst the happy throng…
He is nattily dressed in hound’s-tooth tweedy suit, gold fob and chain that crosses his waistcoat ending with a large gold pocket watch, a black bowler is perched on his head, and a long black umbrella held in the crouch of his arm . He is attentively escorting a rather fetchingly pretty lady, enticingly clad in a long violet dress of silk and lace, wearing a pretty necklace with matching earrings that glitters as she weaves in and out of the rough crowd. The the couple make their way carefully along the wooden planks of the dock’s sidewalks, peering cautiously into doors of the noisy pubs as they pass..
They stop outside the open doors of the Wailing Siren Pub and peer inquisitively inside. Just as they do, a rather thin chap with a perpetually smiling face, wearing old worn canvas trousers, a weather worn sailors blouse, and with a flat cap on his head comes upon them from behind. Long wisps of sun weathered sandy blonde hair fall in strings from the cap, some of them tied into a short pony tail. He is rather young, but the look in his keen brite blue eyes are those of a much older, perhaps even wiser man.
He stands behind the couple, patting them both on the back with a joyful cheerio.
As the both turn their heads in a rather annoyed fashion, he grins, better In than out Jack always says, and enthusiastically parts the two as he goes on inside.
The couple watch as the rather odd man calling himself Jack makes his way through the throng, acknowledging several people, but not receiving any recognition. He finally reaches a table with three men, all in severe cut suits, two built like the body guards they were, the third with a weasely face ,held pursed in a stern and unforgiving manner. Next to him stands a rather voluptuous lady, curvy in a long red satin number that flows down to her feet. From her ears, neck ,wrist and fingers sparkle a fine collection of emeralds set with diamonds, small but quite expensively real.
The couple at the doorway look at each other and silently a decision is made and they go inside and sit at a back table by a fireplace, where the beginnings of a large fire are in place, waiting to be lit once the cool chill of the evening fog rolls in.
Meanwhile the odd stranger has seated himself with the 3 men, and engages them in conversation. The lady in red, still standing, listens in, becoming quite interested in the charismatic newcomer and his many lively stories…
All the while Brute Burton works his station at the bar, serving up drinks as they are ordered, sliding them down the bar with expert precision.
Sadly, poor Brute is in a rather worse mood than usual this evening. Quite peeved that his favourite barmaid had up and quit the day before , having been sweet talked into taking a job at one of his competitors just down the street. This has been the topic of much conversation up and down the docks all day, so much so, that everyone pretty much knows to stay clear of the disgruntled bar keep, and Brute is quite happy with that. So, needless to say, what happens next came as quite a surprise to a lot of people, including Brute!
Brute had been eyeing a particular table all evening, it was made up of 4 men, and some tart in a red dress. The men, especially the thin one, one wearing an old discoloured flat cap, faded sailors dress, have grown more vocal, their tongues loosened by the pints of beer being consumed. And apparently, the attention Brute is giving them had not gone unnoticed, for they were quite obviously talking about Brute himself, judging by the way they had all been stealing looks his way.
This made Brute quite a bit more upset, and the men at the table apparently knew it, much to his chagrin. So it was with grinding teeth that Brute observed the thin man in the sailors rig rise and head up, a little wobbly, towards the bar, with his fellow table mates, including the dolled up tart, all watching with obviously keen interest.
The thin sailor sat down at the bar and called out cheerfully, hey barkeep, a shot of the devil’s own then. Brute poured a bit of rotgut in a shot glass, and intending to give the young sailor a piece of mind, walked ( rather than sliding ) it over to him.
Look ‘ere now, Brute said, I want no troubles from you mate , capisec lad?! he warned the grinning sailor in a stern tone. Then he gave the sailor a second, closer look over..
Wait a minute, Brute added, , didn’t I see you in ere last night?
Indeed you did my most observant sir, Indeed you did, and he offered a hand to shake, which was ignored by Brute. Unfazed, the sailor withdrew his hand and continued on; Jackie’s the name sir, and he nodded a hello to the burly , stern eyed barkeep. Came here on a lark last evening, enjoyed your fine establishment so much, decided to return. He looked into Brutes eyes, but the barkeep was having none of it, no scrawny excuse for a sailor was going to butter him up!
Jackie continued smiling and said, no worries my man, just here again in your fine establishment for a friendly drink. He slid a couple of coins to the barkeep who began to pick them up. Say barkeep, Jackie amiably asked Brute. Would you know be interested in winning few bucks from a betting sailor with nothin better to do with his money? What are you one about Brute asked, his hooded eyes holding back a fire waiting to ignite.
Just this Jackie continues on pleasantly cooing his words, 5 pounds say that I can lick me right eye.
Brute just looked at him for a full minute then said your on, but no shenanigans he added, go ahead and lick your right eye. With a smile, Jack popped out his right glass eye and licked it, before putting it back. The whole bar hushed, as Jack held out his hand, the bartender threw down a fiver, the look he was giving Jack would have sent most men running. The whole bar was now watching, quite a few standing for a better look at what was going on, waiting to see what was going to befall upon the mischief making sailor….
Jackie did not touch the fivers, instead he said, quite apologetically, I am so sorry chappie, That was actually quite rude of me I’ll admit, and after promising o shenanigans to boot. Tells you what dear sir, and he pulls a wad of notes from his pocket and lays down a total of twenty on top of his fiver.
Gives you a chance to make your money back, and profit Jackie said with a promise. Lets hear it than, Brute said, snarling so loudly that some of the Wailing Sireens patrons actually cringed, some even stepping backwards and tripping up against those behind them….
Ok Jackie again said in that sing song manner of his, this lot is yours( he pointed to the pile of notes) if I cannot bite my left eye!
Brute just looked at him for a minute, a long, quite cold minute. He finally spoke, choosing his words carefully, as he kept his temper in check…. I didn’t know about your fake eye me salty lad, but I sure en hell knows you aint blind. . Your on he says, and pulls out a wad of his own, slapping down a total of 20 hard earned notes on top of his fiver. Jackie gulps down the last of his rotgut, and smiles widely, playing the pubs hushed attention for all it was worth, then taking out his false teeth, he smartly bit his left eye.
You could have heard a pin drop on the wooden saw dusted floor of the place , it was now so quiet, then a murmuring started as everyone pushed forward a bit, knowing what would be happening next to the cunning sailor calling himself Jackie.
As For Jackie, he continued to smile as he adjusted his false teeth ( ivory) and then nonchalantly pulled a plug of tobacco from his pocket and biting off a wad, started to chew as he looked Brute dead in the eye. The piles of notes lay on the counter, untouched, seemingly unnoticed by either of the two , Brute or Jackie.
Brute finally broke the long silence, moving towards Jackie, his meaty fists griping the bar, as if he were trying to hold them back from strangling the living daylights out of the thin sailor looking all for the world like a cat that had gotten the canary.
Brutes words came, snarling from his lips, as he said in no uncertain terms. Yur crackers Laddie, and youns have just earned a one way ticket out of my pub, and if your lucky, only a few of your bones will be broken when you land! … as he spoked his right hand detached itself from the mahogany bar, and grabbed the sailor by his blouse, with the intention of lifting Jackie up and tossing him physically from the premises!
Jackie, totally unruffled by Brutes actions, laid a hand upon the Publicans wrist, and tsk’d Brute, who in surprise at the unperturbed demeanour of Jackie, actually let go of the sailors blouse and allowed his hand to be gently taken aside and placed upon the bar.
I know Jackie said complacently , as he chewed his tobacco, That was not a nice thing atoll for me to do, seeing how it is my honour to be here in your fine establishment, and me playing tricks on ye, not a nice ting atoll for a patron to do. Jackie smiled winningly up at the still bristling Brute. Tell ya what my fine friend, do you have a half- penny on you perchance?
Brute could not believe his ears, he was totally flabbergasted at this sailors actions, but still slightly more than mite curious, like the fabled lion listening to the mouse pleading his case, wondering why this git just did not seem to understand just whom he was toying with.
Finally Brute just said , yeah numbskull, why?
The whole bar was now absolutely focused on the goings on between Brute and the sailor Jackie, never before had anyone taunted the bartender with such nerve and still was be able to stand upright…
Jack just grinned for a few seconds before speaking. I truly do feel bad for playing me little jokes on you, its just me personality understand, and I am unable to control it after a few pints of the houses best you my dear most gracious sir…? . Brute started to say something, but Jackie cut in with, hear me out kind sir, and ye may find it worth your while for putting up with ol Jackie this evening!
Jackie picked up his empty shot glass, looking at it as he spoke. See this shot glass dear, most reasonable, sir, if you would,take it to the far end of your rather pretty polished bar and hold it up like you were cheering me.
I will bet your half penny against this pile of notes laying on your bar, that I can spit out this entire bit of tobacco I am chewing, and every bit of it will land dead centre inside that shot glass… If so much as a drop of it lands anywhere else, you then win the whole pot, every last pence….
Brute thought for a very long minute, trying to see all the angles, and finding none that could lose him the pot. In his mind he reasoned, how could anyone accomplish such a feat, especially a cocky drunken sailor with more mouth than sense?
Ta, your on lad he snarled, but I hold the money until after your bet. Agreed Jackie said, and pushed the notes up against the shot glass. Brute picked up both the glass and notes, walked to the far end of the bar, about 3 meters, and held the glass up against his spotless white apron.
The entire bar was still in a hush, and actually had become quite crowded now as word had spread across to some of the other drinking establishments, whose curious patrons had come over to witness the goings on…most hoping to be entertained with watching a rather thorough beating of a certain thin sailor..!
Jackie just grinned, ready he said, and taking a mouthful of air, spit out the wad of wet brown gooey tobacco. The unsavoury mess flew across the bar, hitting Brutus, the bar, the walls…everywhere but inside the shot glass.
Realizing that he had won the bet, Brute pocketed the notes, and started laughing, as he wiped the brown slime off himself, his apron, and the surface of his bar . The entire bar nervously erupted into laughter, poking themselves, and pointing towards the witless sailor and his odd games which had cost Jackie some fifty pounds!
Brute finished his cleaning, and still chuckling . looked over at Jackie, who was still sitting there, still smiling like had had not a care in the world. Puzzled Brute moved back to the sailor, and addressed him rather curtly.
Se here mate, what is it with you, your antics here have cost you a pretty penny, yet you sit there grinning like the whole world is your oyster.. what of it , are you just looney or daft , or both!?
Jackie just smiled, rising from his seat he looked up at the bar tender. Hopefully neither my most kind sir, hopefully neither!
Its like this, see that table back there, and he nodded towards the table that Jackie had left before approaching the bar. The tart had a silly grin on her face, but the three gentlemen sitting there were not smiling atoll, just wearing unbelieving frowns upon their hard mugs.
Brute looked back to Jackie, yeah I see them, what of it!?
Well me lad, and Jackie moved just a little further away, its like this… Those gentleman back there bet me a thousand pounds against me coming up here and spitting tobacco juice over yourself and fine bar, and have you clean the mess up yourself, laughing all the while… which is exactly what you just did…
Brute just stared at the smirking sailor, realizing that he had been played for a fool after all. Jackie was now out of reach, and so Brute just snarled at the impish sailor…
Pick up your winnings mate, and hightail your miserable carcass outta of here…. If I ever so much as see your shadow at me door, I will not be held responsible for my actions, he promised in no uncertain terms.
Jackie bowed with obeisance to the Bartender, then turns and walks up to the table.
Reaching it he winks at the girl, leans over the 3 gentlemen. Sorry chaps you heard the keep, I must sadly be one my way. From the table his picks up the pile of notes the gentlemen lost in the bet. Jackie moves off as the men start to protest, ignoring them, and smiling winningly at the lady in the red dress, who smiles back.
Jackie weaves his way through the still chattering crowd, ignoring them. And without looking back, leaves the Wailing Sireen.
Jackie quickly turns a corner and finally looks back. Once he is certain that no one follows, he darts down a side alleyway. After a series of turns up, down and doubling back more alleyways and darkened back paths he crosses a street and approaches another pub.
But instead of going inside, Jackie lights a small black irish pipe and waits a few minutes to get it going, casually looking around.
Then, turning on his heels, he makes his way to the back side of the pub and heads up a staircase leading to a small row of apartments for let. Going to one he raps a signal on the door with his knuckles. A matching rap is heard from inside, and Jack answers with a another signal. The door is unlocked . Turning the knob slowly, Jackie opens the door with caution, then, with a final look around, steps inside.
There were two of occupants in the room, standing on either side of a bed. The very couple that Jack had greeted at the doorway of the Wailing Sireen.
The chap in the hound’s-tooth suit had pulled from inside the sleeve of his umbrella a ling thin deadly sharp rapier, and was pointing it nastily towards the door, held up level with Jacks chest. The attractive lady in the violet gown was holding a diminutive 2 shot derringer , cocked, she had pulled from neath her left satin glove, it too was pointing at Jacks chest.
Ello put away yur ”greeters” mates, its only meself coming to visit ya after placing life and limb in peril .
I don’t know about your life being in peril luv, the lady in purple sneers pleasantly ,but I would’avetaken bets against your breaking a few limbs byth eway you were teasing the guv’ner who owns that bar. But should have known you would squeak it through, you put up a good job of it!
The man in tweed smiles, yes mate, you did the talk pretty well, as usual, and played it to your advantage… Our advantage mate, as it always is…
Speaking of advantage, how did we do? Jackie asked curiously, we had a good crowd this evening, he added.
They both smile as they put away their weapons.
Then both grasped the top sheet on the bed and wicked it off. Exposing a rather impressive collection of assorted wallets small pouches of coin,b oth gold and silver pocket watches, diamond pins, 3 necklaces, a handful of shimmering rings and a number of glittering ladies bracelets. Picked it clean while everyone was watching your antics, said Erebus, the man in the hound’s-tooth suit
Including this, said Teddi, the lady in violet, as she delved her hand inside her gowns satin sash, extracting and showing off a rather dazzling diamond and emerald bracelet. Jackie smiled, hoped you had spotted that one, blondes should know better than to wear emeralds, horrible choice with fair skin. They all were grinned widely at his point.
So, Erebus asked, how did you do with that group of the casino winners?
Parted them from a thousand of their winnings, less what I had used as to bait the bartender, Jackie said proudly. Always nice to end things a stay with a bang!
Erebus pulled up a heavy satchel from neath the bed, and opened it, more pretty things glittered from inside, along with assorted items that matched those laying on the bed.
It was their collective haul from the 3 nights they had been in town so far. Teddi came around and helped Erebus start to place the items on the bed inside the satchel.
Jackie stole a look outside, making sure the way was clear. Stepping back in he said Ok now lets finish packing it up and split ways. The train is leaving in an hour. Meet at the trains pub car for a drink at midnight Jack said, 3 strangers on a train! That is what we be
Jackie smiled, and at the next town we will divvy up this lot, and see about adding to it. They all nodded in eager agreement.
As Jackie continued to keep an eye outside the door, Erebus and Teddi began to quickly pack up operations.
Fini
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Thanks to one of my main protagonists, Eileen, who told the joke that made the gist of this story. She winningly carried out the tale one rather blustery night, inside by a cheery fire at the Poet and Peasant Pub, our own dockside hangout.
Thanks to CybeleMoon, Teddi Beres and Erebus Darkfold for the graciously allowing me the privilege to use their names to add a bit of their unique colour to my tale.
The End
Exterior cladding of the 20 Fenchurch Street building a.k.a. the 'WalkieTalkie' in London, UK.
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Reaching for the sky. Living wall on campus residential building, Monash University. Melbourne Open House 2018- Monash Precinct
"Evacuate! Evacuate!"
The strained orders of the MPD officer filled the street, dozens of citizens fleeing the crowded area. On the ground were toys; dozens of Superman action figures, all equipped with laser eyes that shred through steel and concrete.
"Officers," called out a voice from above. The squad of police turned, seeing the blue and red clad figure floating above them. "I'll take care of this, focus on evacuation."
The officer in command nodded, ushering his team to follow. Clark looked at the street, dozens of the mechanical toys designed after himself rampaging across the city.
He quickly zipped down, his eyes glowing red and blasting multiple with his heat vision. The plastic of the toy melts as he does, revealing the shining silver exoskeleton.
"Great," he mutters, doubling back to the now exoskeleton toys. "If heat vision won't work, guess I've got to stick to freezing."
With that, Clark lets out a large breath, icy air blasting from his mouth onto the robots. The silver toys form a white like frost as they slow to a stop, falling onto the ground.
"At least I know that wasn't a fluke back at-"
Before Clark can finish his sentence, the glass of a nearby store shatters. His head turns to see more toys leaping from the window, all converging on him.
As Clark readies for a large gust of air, a toy from behind him latches to the back of his neck; it's laser eyes firing directly on his skin. Clark' hand moves to grab a hold of the toy, bringing it to his face. A quick blast of freeze breath causes the toy to go rigid, Clark's fist closing to shatter the figure.
Another toy instantly leaps to Clark, following suit to latch onto him, only by the thigh. Before he can react, another grabs hold of his arm, keeping him from reaching for the other toy. Another followed, then again. As Clark struggled, more of the figures attached to his body, keeping him in place. As being covered, two of the toys flew full force into the backs of his knees, taking the hero down to a praying position.
Clark struggled, his mind searching for a way out. His current position stopped his freeze breath from being usable, while his heat vision was useless against the robots.
Suddenly, a bright green light filled his vision, the robots seemingly vanishing from his body. His head turned, looking up to see two men floating in the air.
"Heya, big blue," called out Hall Jordan, smiling next to John Stewart. "Forget to read the instructions?"
-^- An hour earlier -^-
"Merry Christmas," said John, smiling as he handed the couple in front of him a Superman action figure.
John and Hal had both signed to help pass out presents to the families in need, as they did every year. The two were making the final handouts, Christmas morning only a few hours away.
"It's not trouble ma'am," smiled Hal as he handed another wrapped toy to another woman. His head turned over to John, the smile still on his face. "Wonder why the boyscout signed to 'Nimball Toy Co.'?"
"You think he signed to it?" John asked, wrapping the next gift, ready for another family to arrive. "I assumed someone just made the toy and he didn't attest."
"Huh, could be," Hall shrugged, looking down to the toy in his hands. His head tilted as he watched its eyes light up red. "Hey, these aren't supposed to have any type of effects, right?"
"Merry Christmas," John greeted, handing over another gift. "Nope, no batteries."
Hal looked back at the toy, his eyes growing in realization. "John, break the toys!"
"Huh?"
The sudden blast of red energy ripped through the packaging of the figure, knocking Hal backwards.
John's ring instantly lit up, his suit forming over his body. "What the hell!?"
A beam of green shot out from behind the table, piercing the toy, disabling it. Hal stood, now in full costume as well. "That's definitely not child safe."
John took cautious steps forward, kneeling to pick up the broken toy.
"Killer Superman toy?" he asked, turning to Hal.
Hal nodded, "Looks like we get to go pay the big guy a visit."
-^- Present Time -^-
"So only one of the toys activated?" asked Clark, rubbing his chin. "Must mean that they are manually activated."
"It would make sense," agreed John, nodding his head. "The ones we had were a donation, probably from here. Maybe the range messed with the activation."
"Possibly… but either way, I'm glad I have you two here," Clark responded, a smile on his face.
"Don't mention it, big guy," dismissed Hal, parting him on the shoulder.
"You're g-g-going to neeeeed all the he-lp you c-c-can get…"
The three heroes all turned, staring down at the malfunctioning robot.
"That was Toyman," Clark confirmed, looking at the two Lanterns. "That means he's-"
Suddenly, the ground shook, all three of them turning to the epicenter of the sound. Rounding the corner of the street was a massive robot Superman, it's design resembling the toy figures. It's hand wrapped around a nearby billboard, ripping it off and tossing it at the cop cars below.
Clark instantly bursted towards the car, catching the billboard before it could flatten the officers inside.
"Get out of here, officers," commanded Clark, the cops turning and leaving the area as fast as they could.
The robot, finishing it's motion, slammed it's foot down onto the billboard, sending Clark deep into the pavement.
Both Hal and John flew into the air, the two taking off in opposite directions. With Hal on the right flank, he began launching a barrage of candy cane shaped missiles at the robot.
"Quit trying to ruin Christmas just because kids wanted a ps3 over a yo-yo," shouted the brunet, dodging a swipe from it's giant hand.
As the robot swung again, its arm was grabbed by John's chain construct, restricting it from movement. The robot's head swivelled; it's head now faced John with glowing red eyes.
Before it could fire, it's body began to tilt backwards, off balance. On the ground, Clark began to lift the foot of the mechanical monster, slowly causing the machine to tip back.
Before it could fall, the robot's soles and hands began to emit large bursts of exhaust, the body slowly beginning to rise.
"It's trying to get away," called John, his chain constructs breaking away.
"Try being the key word," noted Hal, raising his arm.
John followed suit, both creating a web of ropes that wrapped around the hands and feet of the robot, holding it in place.
"All you, Superman," shouted John, turning his head to the ground.
A blue and red whiz flew past the two Lanterns, it's speed matching that of a bullet. The blue soared up the body of the machine, until a crushing impact sounded off. Both Lanterns raised their heads marveling at the now decapitated robot.
Above the robot hovered Clark, the head in his hand. "So, who wants to go meet Santa?"
-^- Ten Minutes Later -^-
"So this is the spot?" asked John, his ring being used as a makeshift flashlight.
"Yep, the robot was programmed to come back here," replied Hal, his ring ready for a surprise attack.
"This is definitely Winslow's workshop," confirmed Clark, his eyes tracing the various shelves filled with toys and trinkets. "The lead walls are also a dead giveaway."
The trio moved throughout the workshop, passing multiple robots designed after Superman, all adorning different wacky costumes and designs. Upon reaching the end of the room, the group stumbled upon a trapdoor.
"Well?" asked Hal, looking at Clark.
"Nope, still lead," he noted, reaching for the hatch. "You two follow me."
The two waited for Clark to drop in, before they followed suit. Upon entering, the two saw the workbench of Toyman, along with the man himself.
"Toyman," Clark greeted, stepping forwards toward the man.
"Ah, Superman," the man sighed, placing his chin on his hand. "Come to play a game?" His eyes trailed to the two behind him, a small smile appearing on his face. "Oh, you brought friends? I'm sure a good board game would be fun this Christmas Eve."
As Clark got closer, he stopped in place, eying down Toyman. "No more games, Winslow," he announced, raising his hand to the side, catching what seemed to be a fist.
Both John and Hal turned their heads, eyes widening at the sight. Stepping out of the shadows of the room was a seven-foot tall, lengthy machine, dressed in a yellow and black jester suit; its wood-like paint job and proportions giving it a puppet-like appearance.
"Ugh, Jack has gotten so predictable these days," groaned Schott, a frustrated frown on his face. As he looked back up to the trio, his smile returned. "Good thing he was on the Nice-List this year."
Clark raised an eyebrow, his head turning back to the puppet. His eyes widened as it opened its mouth, a green glow emitting from the hole.
"Kryptonite!?" Clark gasped, letting go of the fist and backing up. The robot immediately jabbed at the man, sending him to the floor.
"Metallo had such an amazing play feature," cackled the ginger, now standing on his chair. "I just knew Jack needed the same."
The puppet marched forward, ready to strike once more before a green wall separated the two.
"John, help Superman," called Hal, John nodding and rushing to the man on the ground.
Hal eyed the puppet, it's glowing white eyes staring back. The puppet launched forward, Hal narrowly creating a shield to block the attack. The puppet doesn't relent, bringing it's fists up and slamming them down against the construct.
Hal held the shield, noticing it slowly form cracks along the impact point. His eyes caught wind of the joints of the machine, noticing how open they were to match the puppet design. As the mechanism swung, Hal ducked under it, creating a power drill to unscrew the elbow. As the machine recovered, it's right forearm fell off, now detached from it's bicep.
"Sorry, Jacky," spoke Hal, creating a second power drill construct, "but playtime is over."
John knelt down next to Clark, checking for any external wounds. Clark batted his hand away, pointing to the glow of Jack's mouth.
John looked between the two, aiming his ring and creating a barrier around the hero.
Clark immediately began to regain his strength, now behind the protective barrier of John. Coming to a stand, his eyes met Schott's.
Schott quickly reached under his desk, pulling out some type of Nerf gun. "Not this time, Superman!" shouted the man, launching multiple Kryptonite darts at Clark.
Clark stood firm, the darts bouncing off the protective barrier around his body. Schott glanced over to Jack, now in pieces on the floor, Hal holding the piece of Kryptonite in a bubble.
"Oh, Bah Humbug."
-^-^-
"Dad! Dad! Wake up dad!"
Clark's eyes slowly opened, his vision filled with his son leaping on the bed in excitement.
"C'mon dad!" Shouted the boy, continuing to bounce up and down. "Get up, hurry!"
"I’m up Jon," the man responded, his voice still groggy as he rubs his eyes.
"Hurry, dad! It’s christmas!" he yells out as he jumps from the bed to the door, bolting into the hallway.
Clark's eyes, now free of sleep, meet those of his wife standing in the doorway, holding two mugs in her hands. Her own bed head makes him smile as he sits up.
"That boy will never get tired unless it’s convenient, I swear," she sighs out, handing one of the mugs to Clark; hot chocolate.
"Thank you, honey," says the man, blowing some of the steam away.
"So, Green Lanterns, huh?" she asks, a slight smirk on her face.
"How did you-"
"Clark, you weren’t being subtle when fighting a giant robot of you," she states bluntly, taking a sip of her own cocoa. "In fact, I don’t think it’s even possible to be subtle in that regard.
"Also, the media has been going nuts all night regarding Super-Santa and his Elf Lanterns, so…"
The man chuckled into his mug, "It just kinda happened, but I'm glad they showed up when they did." Clark took a moment to think back in the night before, the help from the two saving him from the kryptonite weaponry that Schott had installed.
"By the way, what made you get up so-"
"Mama! Dad!"
Clark looked up to Lois, who was smirking as if she knew what he was screaming about. The two left the bedroom to see the boy in his Flash pajamas knelt in front of some kind of kennel.
"What is that mama?" he asks, pointing to the kennel.
"Well," started Lois, kneeling down next to the boy. "That is something that I know you’ve been wanting for some time now, so I may have written an extra letter to the North Pole…"
He looked back to the kennel then his eyes flew back to his parents, widening in realization. His arm opened the kennel's door to reveal a small orange kitten with bright emerald eyes.
"A kitty!" he exclaimed before grabbing and hugging the kitten.
Clark's own eyes widened a bit, looking over to Lois a whispering, "A cat?"
"Jon had said he felt sad when he saw a litter of kittens at an adoption display a while back," she explained, looking at the boy petting the kitten. "I thought that since he's been good this year, why not get him a pet."
Clark smiled, watching his son run around the tree with the highly energetic kitten. "I think it’s a good idea to get him someone to play with," he says, turning back to her. "He is a bit young though."
"Huh, if old Smallville isn't one very handsome pot to call the kettle black?" she asks, placing a hand on her hip. "If I recall, you were already tending to cows and pigs at his age."
The man chuckles slightly, "Alright, you got me with that one."
"I know I did," she responds, kneeling down next to Jon once more. "Now Jon, you need to make sure to be careful with him, having a pet is a lot of responsibility."
"I know mama," he responds before smiling. "I'll do my bestest." Lois responds with a smile and small cheek pinch.
"That just leaves one more thing," Clark asks, gaining both of their attention. "What are you gonna name him?"
Jon gasps, as if he forgot all about that. His gaze settled on the cat, which hadn't stopped running around yet. His eyes finally looked back to the parents with a smile on his face.
"Streaky!"