After six o’ clock, the Planet bullpen was largely deserted. Even Perry had gone home; his cardiologist insisted that he keep to a regular schedule. That left the office to Richard, Lois, Jimmy, Clark, and the twins. The four adults had polished off a second pot of coffee while trying to track the complicated paper trail attached to the Vanderworth estate; the two children were trying to entertain themselves. Coloring books, a deck of Old Maid cards, and even Mommy’s computer games had lost their appeal, and the twins were ominously quiet.
“Holy…” Lois said, catching herself. “That dock I saw? It’s not just a yacht, it’s a freakin’ baby ocean liner. Listen to these specs: 1400 tons, 65 knots maximum speed, 12,000 horsepower, 58 foot beam, and here’s the kicker, 300 feet long.”
“Wow,” the three men said in unison.
“And it’s got a glass bottom,” Lois added.
Just then, they heard a terrifying roar. Or it would have been terrifying, if it had come from a ninety-foot lizard and not a small boy with a trashcan on his head. Kala was chasing Jason with a rolled-up newspaper and yelling, “Die, Godzilla, die!”
“Rrrraaaar!” Jason screamed, and ran into Perry’s glass office door.
Lois had to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter, tears squeezing out of her eyes as her breath hitched and her shoulders shook. The three men just stared as Kala did an impromptu victory dance over her vanquished brother. “Yay, Godzilla’s dead!” she sang, twirling.
“Oww,” Jason groaned, trying to get up. The trashcan was still on his head, and Kala whacked it enthusiastically, provoking an angry yelp.
“Okay, that’s enough, you two,” Richard said sternly, getting up. Lois was still helplessly sniggering as she buried her face in her hands. Richard continued, “I swear, sometimes I wonder if you guys are even from this planet.”
“I’m not,” Jason said quickly, pushing the trashcan off his head.
“You are so!” Kala yelled. “Godzilla’s just a big ugly radioactive lizard!”
“Not as ugly as your big head!” he retorted.
I love my babies so damn much.