Superman (This loosely ties in with the letter K because Lois is his Kryptonite)

Hello good citizens of Metropolis.

Beautiful weather today, wouldn't you say? Perfect for flying, though I recently had my suit pressed and would hate to stick it in a humid phone booth just for a little spin around the earth. That is, if I can find a phone booth. Those things are incredibly hard to find these days, what with all the mobile devices and all that. Oop! There goes mine now. Here comes a text. It's Lois. What does she want . . . Clark (I told her to stop calling me "Kal-El" . . . no reason, just . . . she had a weird way of saying it so that it sounded awkward. Trust me, Clark has a better ring to it) don't forget to pick up some milk and bread on your way home. And why not get some chicken, I'm tired of cooking and doing the dishes. Oh! I could use a little wine. Lois. I'll just send a text right back, if you don't mind waiting. Lois, I have no problem picking up all of those things, but I scanned the refrigerator this morning and saw there was plenty of milk left in the carton. Until later, Clark. There. Now, my friends, I know you've been waiting for me to tell you about my latest adventure against the evil Lex Luthor, so I'll get right to it. Last night a subway train was about to smash into a baby carriage that had been left on the tracks, and it had all the makings of Luthor and his two—hold on a second, it's Lois again. She says she doesn't care if there's enough milk, I want more. Maybe I'm making ice cream, or cream puffs, or something that calls for a lot of milk. Just get the damn milk, Clark. Lois. Heh, heh . . . she can get a little feisty sometimes. But I—I knew that when I fell in love with her. It was, in fact, one of the qualities I found most attractive. That and her hair. I love a good brunette. Well, hmmm, let me just reply real quick . . . Lois, I'll get the milk. No problem. But there better be a lot of cream puffs when I get home. Clark. Okay, so what was I telling you? Oh! Luthor and the baby carriage . . . well, I tore off my suit as fast as possible and jetted into the subway tunnel like a rocket, and wouldn't you know it, there stood Luthor with a big—Geez! It's Lois again. What does she want now?! Cut the jokes, Clark. Maybe if you think my request is so funny you can just drop the items off on the front stoop and fly away to a hotel. Oh, and I think I'll require two bottles of wine tonight. I'm suddenly in a bad mood. Oh that—! *Sigh* I'm starting to rethink making her stay at home.  But, you see . . . it was so frustrating having her out in public. She was always getting stuck in a faulty helicopter, or driving right into an earthquake fault . . . I mean, who does that?! What normal human being—you know what? Never mind. I'll get her what she wants and stay in my Fortress of Solitude tonight. I just put a plasma in there and stocked up on beer. I'm good. Well, it's getting pretty late. I'll tell you about Luthor and the baby carriage tomorrow. Remember, good citizens: keep flying the flag, and . . . God Bless America.

Your friend,

Superman