First off, shout-out to kstanley for figuring out the Easter egg hidden in the "Heat" recap.
We open on what looks like the set of the Beauty and the Beast TV show, with fog, gravestones, and tinkly fairy-tale music. I'll say it right now and I don't care who hears it: Lana's no Linda Hamilton. Lana clomps in on a horse, as is becoming her primary mode of transportation. I wonder if she's got a horse-hitch post in front of The Talon. Lana places some flowers on her parents' grave. They demand constant attention, including ritual sacrifices and that their names and memory be invoked every hour on the hour. Lana even had to give up movement in her upper lip for them, the poor girl. Atop a Lang gravestone sits a letter. The envelope says, in fancy-schmantzy script, "Lana." The "L" is all cursive and pretty. On the back is a wax stamp with a "B" on it. It's from Danny Bonaduce! Lana hears rustling in the foreboding thickets of this dark wonderland. "Hello?" she calls out. "Look more scared! It's supposed to be more foreboding!" the set designer whispers. Lana looks around. This place is so creepy that even Creep Creepfearmonster, the noted Creepologist from Transylvania, would have given this graveyard pause. (Then he would have fast forwarded past it like I have the urge to do.) Lana is about to open the letter, but stops as she hears a wolf howl. Watch her stay immobile even as entrails and bloody babies start falling from the trees. More close-ups on the letter and the wax stamp. "B." Yes. Let's move on. Another wolf howl.
Somebody's hauling ass through the woods! And he's got stringy, starving-artist hair. And he's wearing a long coat. This is totally someone's idea of a Tim Burton-esque sequence. It's barely LeVar Burton. Artist Boy falls. We hear a dog barking at him. Suddenly, a hefty old guy is standing up above the Boy. It's Richard Moll from Night Court! I always wondered what happened to him. He's holding the dog back on a leash and points a big-ass shotgun at the young man. The man fires. The kid's been Moll-ified!
Poster of some far-off tropical paradise. Wish I were there. The boy with the stringy hair is thrown roughly to the ground inside a dank room. "Dammit, boy, what were you thinking?" says the gruff man who shot him. Guess there was no harm, no foul. "I was thinking I'm in a LeVar Burton sequence, by way of Buffy?" the boy wants to say. The boy apologizes for whatever he did to "Father," and says it won't happen again. The scary older guy asks what the one rule is they live by in the house. "Goth before beauty"? "No driving the fog machine without permission"? "No shooting back"? The rule turns out to be "Byron stays in the cellar." Oh man. "Byron." That name always makes me think of that Mr. Show sketch about the Racist in the Year 3000 and when Bob Odenkirk as the little sidekick, Dougie, finds David Cross in the desert and yells, "Bye-RUN!" Shotgun Daddy asks why they have that rule. "Because Father knows what's best for Byron," says Byron. Hee hee. That gets me every time. Spooky music plays at that last bit. In very tight close-up, Shotgun asks how the Hell Byron (hee hee) got out. Dad really needs to get on a muscle relaxant or something. He's so stressed. He yells that he wants an answer. Byron (ha!) pulls out a little metal rod and instead of stabbing his dad, just says that he pried open the lock. The combination lock? Dad takes the rod, and says that time there'll be more than a tranquilizer in that gun. First off, Byron (heh heh) seems pretty lucid for somebody who just got tranqued. Second, who uses a shotgun that blasts like a gun to shoot one of those? Doesn't it just make a "snkkkt" sound and not a loud "band"? But who am I to ask? I just work here. Dad exits the basement, which looks just like every other basement in Smallville. We zoom up the nostrils of our cellar-dweller. He's got really pale skin and dark eyes. He so belongs in the White Stripes.
Opening credits. That Bo thing doesn't get any less funny. Commercials. Why can't Catherine Zeta-Jones-Douglas come and freeze time for me? Why not, dammit?
A tree! A high-school building! For one brief moment, the alt-crap music I'm hearing sounds like Adam Ant's "Goody Two Shoes," and I get all excited, but then it's just alt-crap and the world shifts back into focus. We hear Chloe telling Lana that the sentiment of the poetic note Lana found is nice, but that the graveyard setting makes it a little "Amityville." Because it's outdoors and not in a house and in Kansas and not New York? Yes, I see the parallels, Chloe. The poem she's holding is twelve lines with lots of cursive scripts and words like "Beneath" and "upon" and "ravishing." I'd transcribe it in whole, but I'm afraid that doing so will unlock its evil and kill me, just like in that Ring movie. So if you're that curious, you can read it on DVD a few years from now. Lana says it's kind of romantic and that she hasn't gotten a love letter since third grade. Except the ones Jocko sent when he went to join the Marines, right? How quickly the show forgets. Pete is along, too, to inject a line here or there. Lana says that love letters are a lost art. Chloe says they're not; she intercepted a note going from a football player to a cheerleader. It said, "Be ready for the team." Then the cheesy '70s music started playing. Pete asks who Lana thinks wrote it. She has no idea.
Clark walks up behind the group and puts his hand on Pete's shoulder, accounting for untold amounts of future chiropractic care. As they walk into the newsroom of The Torch, Clark asks what's up. Chloe spills about the secret admirer. She takes off her jacket; she's wearing a flimsy brown shirt that says...what the hell does it say? The Friisos? The Friitos? Rue Friinge? When in doubt, I just say it's the name of a Scandinavian band. Clark gives a pained blink. Lana, embarrassed, says it's nothing. I think she's wearing the same shirt she wore last episode. "What happened to romantic?" Chloe asks. Pete tells her to let "the boy" just read it. Whatever, man. You're the one who looks thirteen. Clark and Lana exchange a look. Clark unfolds the paper and reads. Chloe smiles, finding all of this delicious. Clark reads it in about three seconds, neglecting to absorb the fine flavors, the measured meter, the cunning consonants. "It's a little mushy," he says. So's his brain. "I forgot," Lana says. "Clark Kent: Man of Steel." It's a Wisconsin cheese attack! They brought their giant Trojan cheese horses! You know, Clark would do well just to find some new friends -- ones who won't talk shit right to his face all day. Lana excuses herself, maybe to go do some laundry. "If you ask me, it sounds more like a stalker than a secret admirer," Clark says after Lana leaves. This from the guy who used to scope her out with a telescope and was looking at her ass with x-ray vision just a few weeks ago. Pete and Chloe don't say anything, but they're thinking volumes.
A new home. We hear the buzzing of a saw or some sort of power tool. Close-up of Byron (chuckle) in the dark. Upstairs, his dad is Molling down the floor, drilling into it. Downstairs in the cellar, the boy's mouth is twitching in fear and anguish. How...poetic! He holds his hands to hid head and cries.
Talon. People are walking around under the marquee, which we can only barely read from the side. It says something about a silent film festival. I'm beginning to wish this episode were silent. Inside, Lana is slinging lattes. Lex is at the counter, and he's picked up the note, which Lana just left on the counter for all customers to read. "Look at me! Somebody likes me! And not just my dead-waffle parents!" Lana says, "That's kind of personal." Which is why it's on the counter, available for reading with a penny donation to UNICEF. Lex playfully pulls the letter away as she reaches for it and smiles. Lana tells Lex to go ahead and read it. She says he'll probably agree with Clark that it's sappy. Lex follows Lana with it and remarks that the imagery is naïve, but that the meter's quite sophisticated. He asks whom it's from. Lana says it's from an admirer or psychopath, depending on who you ask. Lex says that had a little "edge to it," and asks if everything all right. "Edge"? He's a dialogue coach, now? Lana says that everyone is giving her a hard time about the poem, which she can't understand. Why would people comment on something that she's been going around showing to everyone and asking their opinion about? The nerve! Then Lex does something unexpected: "Take me to you. Imprison me," he says, "For I never shall be free/ nor ever chaste/ except you ravish me." Lex says it while fixing his gaze on Lana. About a million seats are now sopping across the country. And those are just from the guys watching. "John Donne," Lana says. She says he's one of her favorites. Him and Dr. Seuss. Lex says that if he didn't know better (and how does he?), he'd say he found Lana's Achilles' Heel. Lana says she didn't know Lex was so into poetry. Lex says that anyone who doesn't appreciate poetry doesn't know that it's all about seduction. If they're setting up a Lex/Lana/Clark love triangle, I may have to just bail completely. Lana looks like she's about to melt; then she spots Clark coming up behind Lex. (As is his wont.) Clark comes in and gives a Significant Look, which he does a lot in this episode. Lana loudly says that it's nice that some people appreciate artistic expression. I in no way advocate violence against women, but seriously, Clark needs to just slap her once if she doesn't knock it off with that shit. Or better yet, ask Chloe to do it. Lex, giving back the poem, says it kind of raises the bar for other contenders. He says it in Clark's direction. Clark thinks, "Thanks. Thanks very much. Ass." Lex smirks and leaves.
When Lex leaves, Clark goes up to Lana at the counter. He says he knows things aren't so great between them. "I'm fine, Clark," she says. Well, that's not what he said, but fine. You're fine. She walks away, rudely. Clark follows. He apologizes for "ragging" on the poem. Because that was totally untubular and not at all awesome. Lana says that poetry's not for everyone. Clark is upset that Lana showed the poem to Chloe and Pete and not to him. Well, she did show him the poem soon afterward. It's not like she hid superpowers. Lana says she's not going to share everything if Clark isn't open with her. Clark clams up. He changes the subject to "weird" guy who's going around watching her. Lana says, "C'mon, Clark. Tell me you've never watched someone from afar." Clark says nothing, again. How many times are they going to have the "opening up" conversation?
Stately Luthor Manor. Papa Luthor is at a desk, fingering the fine metal at the top of his cane. He's like Big Daddy Kane. But Cane. And not so Big. A young guy with bulletproof hair starts saying something about "so as you can see" and then spends the minute correcting his oral faux pas. Papa Luthor -- no stranger to clamping down on both oral and faux pas -- assures this employee that the mistake he just made will indeed never happen again. He insults the boy's long-windedness as he holds a little reader/scanner device and says Bulletproof's stuff will be sent to him. Can't he just take it now? "Are you letting me go?" Bulletproof asks. Okay, you're getting old. Get on out. Bulletproof is shaken, but finally recovers and leaves, just as Lex is coming in. Lex says that's the fourth one Papa Luthor has devoured this month. Coincidentally, it's also the fourth assistant he's fired. Papa asks where Lex is finding these guys. Lex says he's found them at little schools like Harvard and Yale. In the Home Ec and Gym classes. Papa Luthor says that impressive résumés don't matter: Lex needs to look into their eyes. Papa Luthor says he needs Lex's eyes to look for him. Lex asks whether that means it's his fault. Papa says he was "critiquing," not "criticizing." Well, bully for you. More struggles for conversational power. Lex surmises that Papa Luthor's lack of complete control over things is driving him nuts. Papa just wants a good assistant. Lex says that even he himself couldn't meet Papa Luthor's criteria. Well, not with all that whining, you wouldn't. Papa Luthor agrees and says "nobody's perfect." Then he leaves. Lex is all sad and perplexed.
Papa Luthor is outside in a very lush garden. He's reading the newspaper with his hand-held scanner. It says something about his company's stock flailing. Papa Luthor throws the scanner in frustration. "I couldn't listen to another word of that droning either," a woman says. MamaKent! In a classy suit! She looks fine! In a very deep voice, she tells Lex's dad who she is, adding that she hopes she's not disturbing him. He says it's a welcome interruption. She says she's looking for her monthly produce check. The zucchini bill alone... Papa says his presence has thrown Lex's regimen for a loop. MamaKent assures Papa about total fictions, like that his son is happy to have him around. She comes around, sits to Papa Luthor, and takes the newspaper. She reads a quote from Papa Luthor about the stock falling that quarter. A sentence in, she figures out that it's a smokescreen -- that he's making investors nervous now, so that when the actual losses are posted, the stock will have already adjusted. Well, duh. Papa Luthor takes off his sunglasses, impressed with MamaKent's "keen business acumen." Well, there's not a lot to do when your husband's out tending to the cows instead of giving you good loving. "I wonder if your talents aren't being wasted on organic produce," he tells her. That's what I've always wanted to say to Lex. MamaKent says she's going to take that as a compliment. "You should," Papa Luthor says slyly.
A series of photos on the wall. Hey, an armadillo! Legends (and the forums) say that Lex has one of those in his pants. Also shown are horses and swans against blue light. Then some candles. Oh, poor Byron (tee hee). He's the Phantom of the Soap Opera. Our poet -- who does know it -- is composing another letter to Lana. I'm guessing he hasn't seen Birds of Prey yet, or he wouldn't even be bothering with her. We hear a small bit of what sounds like crashing glass; then the cellar door opens and a haggard-looking mom in a robe comes downstairs. GothMa puts a book on the poet's desk. She says she got it at the used bookstore. "Edgar Allen Poe," he says, with distaste. "You really know how to pick them, mother." Bastard! I think everyone on this show under twenty deserves a good slapping this week. Seriously. This show is heading into serious Dawson's Creek territory with the unlikable characters. GothMa says she read a few pages and couldn't make heads or tails of it. "I'm surprised," says the fey teen, who is wearing a gray scarf. "He writes about pain and suffering. And people being buried alive." But have you read his limericks? Hilarious! "There once was a girl in the graveyard/ Who had a script written by retards..." Best not to try to repeat the classics. GothMa, her voice shaking, says she knows the poet's upset, but that things are better this way. All creepy. More back and forth about their un-normal lives. GothMa has had enough. She tells Little Lord Poetrypants to read his books and shut the hell up. He so wishes he were The Crow. Byron (oh my) does his candle-wax-seal thing. Then, with the letter in his mouth, he moves his bed and makes his escape through a hole in the wall that Richard Moll must not have noticed in his extensive work to keep the boy inside.
The graveyard again. Lana is asleep, her head resting on her parents' gravestone. This is a personal low, Lana. She wakes up and checks her watch, with probably the worst neck-crick in history. "What am I doing? This is crazy," she says to herself. I think you moved past crazy after about the 1,500th mention of your dead parents last season. As Lana gets up, we see her poem guy standing behind her. She spots him and calls, but he bolts. She gets him to stop, and says she read the other poem. "It was beautiful," she says. But was it preternaturally beautiful? "You really think so?" Byron (hoo hoo) asks, pathetically. Lana's same blouse is starting to emit fog all over the scene from its funk. She asks his name. He answers and I giggle. "Like the poet?" she asks. He says yes, like his great uncle. The meat packer. Lana asks why he writes poems for her. He says that it's because she inspires him. To be a better lead singer for The White Stripes. Lana rudely turns on a flashlight and shines it in his face. He yells, "No!" and knocks the light out of her hands. Clark is suddenly on the scene and yells, "Get away from her!" He runs at the poet, who slips and falls onto a gravestone, where he's knocked unconscious. Lana's annoyed. The fey poet comes awake and rubs his head in pain. Now all he wants to write is Star Wars fanfic. Byron (chuckle) looks at his fingers. There's blood! He faints. From this dramatic climax, we can finally exhale: There are commercials.
Talon. He may be a waifish poet, but Byron (snerk) sure can eat! He's wolfing down cake and coffee while holding his head. That's like when someone in old movies would get bonked in the mouth and to show they had a toothache, they'd wear that big bandage around their whole head. Yeah, we just saw your head bleed. We understand it without further stage business. Byron can't believe he passed out. "I'm sorry I scared you," Clark says, like he's not sorry at all. You didn't scare him, Clark; you bumrushed the fuck out of him. The guy -- who has Edward Scissorhands skin -- says it's all right, since Clark was protecting the beautiful young lady. Oh, gag. He says that Clark is chivalrous. So was Pepe le Pew. Lana rolls her eyes. The poet says Lana's lucky to have a boyfriend who cares so much about her. Hemming and hawing about Clark being just a friend. This scene is like molasses running uphill. Clark is a friend -- "an overprotective one," Lana adds. I'll bet Clark could meet much better girls online. Lord Boring graces us with more verse about Lana's beauty and her forthwith and whatnot. Clark has a big old dumb look on his face, like, "Don't tell me this shit's actually working." Lana smiles and says that was beautiful. "Which poet wrote that?" Clark asks, all ig'nant. "Shakespeare," Bar-none says. Lana says she can't imagine being home-schooled and never seeing anyone. Yeah, she only works eighty-hour weeks at the Talon and has no concept. You know, I'm sure there are nice folks among you who don't fit this generalization, but every person I've ever met who was home-schooled was a little...um, strange. Like the kind of person who you're afraid to ask their life story because you know every sentence is going to start, "And then my parents said..." Poor Byron says you don't miss what you never had. Except a million dollars. I miss that every day. Clark notices some nasty-looking marks on the boy's wrist. Clark asks if his parents are strict. "They only want what's best for me," he replies. A life sentence. Lana hears a truck outside and says it must be the milk delivery. How does she know that? When do these kids sleep? It's all that damn coffee! Byron (har har) jumps to his feet and asks what time it is. When he's told it's 5 AM, he whines about his parents waking up and exits quickly. Lana and Clark go after him.
Outside. It's nearly dawn. Clark and Lana have driven Lord Byproduct home, and he hops out of the truck, declining an offer from them to explain to his parents what happened. He runs, runs, runs to the house. As he gets to the front steps, his mother comes out and tells him to hurry. Richard Moll is not so forgiving. He points a shotgun right at him. Lana and Clark get out to help as a dog barks. GothMa helps her son inside while Clark and Lana are confronted by Bull from Night Court. With a full head of gray hair (and if I hadn't seen his name in the credits, I would have never known it was the Moll-Man), he bellows that he'd better not see them around his son again. He threatens to shoot them for trespassing. Clark and Lana leave. The damn dog won't keep quiet.
Kent Farm. Bo is surprised that MamaKent was offered a job. He didn't find out till the morning. That's a little...fishy, no? Did her new job require a sleepover? MamaKent says her answer was that she wanted to discuss it with Bo. The morning. After the sleepover. Bo is upset and says that Papa Luthor has an ulterior motive for everything. Like the other day? He was eating a donut, and the donut was giving him insider trading information through its donut hole. Now that donut is under investigation by the SEC. It's always something with that guy. "I know all about Lionel Luthor, but we could use the money," MamaKent says. This reminds me disturbingly of when Jennifer Connelly went and had sex with her ex boyfriend for heroin money. MamaKent says she could use a "bigger" challenger in her life. Bo is mad: "Farm life's gotten just a little bit too boring for you, has it?" Well, shit, you have a superhero son doing all the chores, cows fulfilling your every sexual fantasy. What's there for her do to around there but refill your bovine coffee cup every morning? MamaKent says she doesn't mean it like that and wants to put her education to use. Bo asks if it's worth losing their privacy. "You don't trust me to make that call?" she asks. It doesn't take much to break up their little pastoral paradise, does it? "I want to do this," says MamaKent, and before they can argue further, Clark and Lana come in. Bo asks if they've been out all night. "It's not what you think," Clark says. He explains about the new kid, and that they think he's being abused. Oh, the slings and arrows of outrageous child abuse!
on America's Most Intrusive: the Kents and Lana have rounded up a single police officer to raid the abusive compound. Yes! Finally. Maybe we'll start to see some poetic justice around here. As they walk up, a bunch of antlers and horns are sticking out from swing sets. The parents answer the door. Our favorite mustachioed police officer asks to see their son. They get all indignant and fakey and say that their son died, having drowned in Crater Lake eight years earlier. Lana says they just met him the night before. Bo says that the dad threatened them. "I never seen these kids before in my life," Moll says, in a southern twang. He calls what they're doing a prank. He asks what kind of parents would raise a child to do a wicked thing like that. Well, Bo. But not in this case, exactly. The cop and the Kents leave. "They're lying," Lana says. Clark says they saw the kid go into the house. Bo platitudes that if there was a young man being tortured and abused and tied up, they wouldn't want that on their conscience. Maybe they'd want it on DVD, but not on their conscience. Ethan the Utilitarian Authority Figure says he'll get a warrant. Dude, get their "Cherry Pie" album. It raaaaawwwks!
Shirtless Byron (guffaw) by candlelight. He's so frowny. Awww. The poor widdle poet. He pulls at a shackle that binds his wrist to the wall.
The Torch. Chloe prints out a death certificate that comes out all fancy with a seal on it and everything. I doubt they have a print-ready, certificate-looking printable database like that, but what do I know? Chloe tells Lana and Clark that their new friend is an unfortunate member of the Dead Poets Society. Chloe says that the certificate was signed by a doctor and everything. Clark says it has to be a fake. Chloe floats the idea that "Goth Boy" may be a ghost. As long as they don't have to channel him through Whoopi Goldberg, I'm fine with that. Lana says that ghosts don't polish off three pieces of cake and two cappuccinos. They do if they're the ghost of Raymond Burr. Clark smiles at that, like it's the most amusing, heartwarming line he's ever heard. Chloe -- who is all about the Chloeavage this week -- says that the doctor who signed the death certificate also presided over medical trials at Metron Pharmaceuticals. Turns out the poet was a participant. Chloe, who gathers her things as she talks, says he was exhibiting anti-social behavior. Lana says he seems so gentle. Chloe asks, all cheesily, if he's stirred the heart of their young Juliet. Right as Clark is walking behind them, Lana says it's nice to meet someone who's honest with his feelings, so she doesn't have to guess what he's thinking. Clark, seriously. I can give you phone numbers. Just cut the cord, man. Lana says they should start looking for Byron (hooboy). He's in the basement! Clark says they should wait for the sheriff. Lana and Chloe make nasty faces that Clark can't see.
Luthor's house of wood textures and stained glass. Papa Luthor, wearing a smart white shirt and tie, is playing the piano. Nicely, too. "Chopin?" Lex asks as he walks in. He says he always thought Papa Luthor thought him too sentimental. Papa says that Chopin sometimes lack subtlety. "Sometimes," he says. He's so in luuuuuurve. Papa says that, judging from Lex's tone, he's angry. Lex is mad that he interviewed more assistant prospects the day before only to find out Papa had already hired MamaKent. Lex asks what his angle is. Papa says that MamaKent "is a very... [he pauses a long time] capable woman." The Magnificent Piano Man says that honesty like hers is hard to come by. So is a naked picture of Sandra Bernhard. Lex thinks Papa Luthor is using her to ingratiate himself to the townspeople. Papa says he hadn't thought of that, but that it's an unexpected benefit. Lex says he wants Papa Luthor to stay away from the Kents. "They mean a lot to me," Lex says. Papa says he wonders what they'd think of Lex meddling in their affairs: "You think they'd welcome you into their family?" Lex says it would be a step up. Papa Luthor chuckles. He talks about Zeus and his adopted son finding a home among mortals. It's supposed to be about Lex, but it's a total Clark Kent allegory. Lex finishes the story of Prometheus, who was chained to a rock and had his liver eaten by vultures. Well, maybe it's more about our gothy Poet. Papa reminds Lex that Prometheus was immortal, and could never leave his place among the Gods. Lex says, wordily, that if Papa Luthor does anything to the Kents, their father-son truce will come to an end. Papa Luthor goes back to his piano playing.
The house that has withstood the test of bad poetry. Pete and Clark come up the front porch. Pete asks what happened to waiting for the sheriff. Clark says he needs to know if their poet is in there. He takes a nailed-up wood blank off a window. As Clark reaches in, a dog comes and bites his arm. The dog whimpers and scampers away. Pete says that Clark is a regular "Dr. Doolittle." Except Dr. Doolittle talked to animals. Man. Clark and Pete go through the window. Inside. A moose head, a shotgun. "This place is like an NRA petting zoo," Pete says. Clark uses his x-ray vision to see through the floor, but can't make out much. He pulls a rug and says there's something underneath, but it must be made of lead because he can't see through. There's an awful lot of lead in people's basements around here. Pete says that Clark should come with an instruction manual. Like the one William Katt lost in The Greatest American Hero! Clark pulls open a lock that's holding an entrance to the lower level. He opens it.
Inside, light pours in on the poet's dark repose. "What did they do to you?" Clark asks when he sees the poor boy and his shackles. Byron (bwah!) says it's not what Clark thinks. Clark vows to get him out of there. He pulls the chains off. "How did you do that?" the poet asks. "Rusty lock," Clark says. Shirtless Goth Boy resists being taken. He says his dad will be upset. Clark tries to convince the poet that nobody deserves this. "You don't understand!" he yells. Clark says he understands more than the young man knows. He grabs him and takes him outside, sans shirt. For a moment, it looks like an episode of COPS.
Lanky poet is thrown into the light. He screams and falls to the ground, writhing. Weird gashes come out of his shoulder blade areas. He grunts, "You should have listened to me" in a demonic voice. When Clark goes to help, he swings and sends Clark flying the requisite thirty feet. (At least.) Clark crashes on top of a shed. Goth Boy gets up and stares down Pete with his huge-pupiled dark eyes. He asks what Pete is looking at, and throws him over the porch and into a parked car. Pete goes right through the windshield, painfully. Clark gets up. Comically, the now-evil poet runs off. "Woof!" he says. Clark goes for Pete. Pete is moving his head and arm, but is clearly in pain. Damn violent poets!
The Kents show up in Pete's very colorful hospital room. So where's Pete's family and his multitude of brothers? I'm beginning to think we're never, ever going to se them. Clark is standing by Pete's bed. Pete has a blue cast on his arm. He tells the Kents that he has a hairline fracture. He says it's ironic because it hurts everywhere else except his hairline. I'm going to chalk up that line to your pain medication, Pete. MamaKent calls him "Sweetie" and rubs his head. Man, she is just desperate to give affection this week to those outside her marital bed. Pete says that being part of this family should come with its own group health insurance. Nurse! Less morphine! Bo is mad that Clark didn't wait for the sheriff. Can the sheriff do this? (Clark superspeeds around the room and lifts Pete's hospital bed with his big toe.) Clark says that the poet was chained to a wall. When they got him outside, Pete says, he kinda went "Jekyll and Hyde." Clark says he tried to stop the guy. "'Tried'?" Bo asks, "How big a change are we talking here?" So big a change that if there was a bigger budget, it would have been American Werewolf in London instead of a few back gashes and some colored contact lenses.
The International House of Bad Poetry. GothMa is leading Clark and Bo down the stairs. She's made a dramatic reversal from her "son died of a drowning stance" of earlier. "You really shouldn't be here," she says, telling them that her husband is out looking for little Tommy Gnosis Lost. Bo tells her they want to help. She says, in her wavery voice, that it's been tough for them and that the Kents probably think she and her Moll-Man are horrible parents. Bo doesn't answer her. Clark asks why Byron (wheeze) changed when he got into the light. GothMa says it was one of the side effects of the drug he was taking. The other side effect? Minty breath. She says they wish they'd never gotten involved with that mess, and that the drug was supposed to make him better. Bo says that somebody out there must be able to help him. She tells Bo that their doctor watched six other boys die trying to reverse the side effects. Well, if he hadn't taken them to the Bahamas... She says that their son was hooked up to a bunch of machines "like he was some sort of alien." Clark -- who's puttering in the background -- shifts uncomfortably. Taking on an angry tone, he asks if that's why they faked his death certificate. No, Clark. It's because there was a special at Denny's for senior citizens and dead teenagers. Geez, you're dense. She says they locked him in the basement and he cried for days, not understanding. "We felt like the monsters," she says, close to tears. Clark asks if Byron (coo coo!) will change back if he's out of the sun. She says that is so. But he's very strong now. And has fresh breath.
Clark at the Talon. Lana is pissed that she had to hear about the latest developments from broken-armed Pete. "Thanks for the call," she says sarcastically, not even deigning to look in Clark's direction. Clark! Personal ads! Just get away from her. She's going to suck you dry like a kryptonite chain around your neck. Lana's mad that she wanted to help, and Clark cut her out. Clark says he didn't want her to get hurt. "Is that it, or don't you trust me?" she asks. I grow weary of these WB relationship games. At this rate, they won't kiss again for five more seasons. Clark changes tone, getting pissy himself. He asks if Lana has seen Sir Suddenly Longfellow. Lana says if she had, Clark would know because she would have been honest. Chloe comes in holding a folder and says she thinks she knows why their "would-be Shakespeare" went "all pro wrestler" on Clark. Chloe, just give us the damn information. Your parlance has also become tiresome. Lana gives Clark a dirty look. Chloe asks if it just got cold in there. It's the one time Chloe's not showing her Chloeavage, so I can't really say. Clark takes the folder and asks Chloe what she found, like he's the CEO of their little brain trust. Chloe says that the medical trials their poet participated in targeted his adrenal system. Clark says they have to track down the company that conducted the trials. Chloe says Metron Pharmaceuticals shut down before they finished their research. "Why would they do that?" Lana asks, scrunching her face. Chloe says that maybe Clark should ask his mom's new boss. Turns out Metron is a Luthorcorp subsidiary. Clark says he'll talk to Lex. Lana bugs her eyes for no reason. It's the most insect-like look of the episode. Chloe says she'd help, but that Pete issued an SOS for his PlayStation 2. I totally understand. Lana grabs her jacket to go look for her not-so-secret admirer. Clark tries to stop her. He warns her to be careful. Lana half-nods.
Graveyard. Lana finds Byron (ba-dump bump) pondering his own gravesite. O, lo, for it we as mortals who find small comfort in our lives upon this salted sea and earth and sky. Oh, wait, I'm sorry, I was reading the back of a suppositories box. Lana -- wearing a strange pink jacket -- calls out to her poetic troubadour. She says she wants to help him. He turns around and has a serious case of Buffy vampire face. He growls that he's not going back to the basement. Why is he wearing no shirt under his long coat? Lana says he could hurt someone. Lana says it was LuthorCorp that caused his condition and that Clark is talking to Lex and trying to find a cure. "There is no cure!" he says, and grabs at Lana. She tells him no, but he says he wants her and tries to tackle her to the ground. She swipes at him. He's suddenly ashamed of himself and says he's been made into someone that no one can love. I sure don't love him. Any of you? No? Yeah, dude. You're kinda fucked. The poet dishes out his own brand of poetic injustice, pushing Lana against a gravestone. They really should put padding on all of them. Lana falls unconscious. It's, what, her tenth concussion? Byron (oh gawd) rails at the sky and runs off, very Frankenstein's monster.
Newspaper. Headline says "Luthorcorp stocks plummet as Metron closure announced." Wait, they're just now closing it? Or is this an old newspaper? Lex tells Clark -- who is standing nearby -- that his dad is leaving him quite a legacy. He warns Clark to tell his Mom what she's getting herself into. Clark says that she can take care of herself, and that she hasn't been this excited in a while. Lex is all sad that his offers to help them financially have been met with a resounding "no," but that Papa Luthor can throw money at MamaKent like she's the last stripper of the night in a rural Kentucky titty bar. Clark reveals that it wasn't a unanimous decision in the Kent household. Clark says that at least Bo Duke isn't upset with Lex this time. Now their love may flourish! Lex says he'll look in to Metron and find where the proverbial bodies are hidden. They hear a helicopter landing, and as Clark looks out a window, they do indeed see a chopper hitting grass. You'd think they'd have an actual landing pad. Lex says he hopes Clark's mom likes helicopters. "My family doesn't fly much," Clark says. You know what does fly on this show? The cheddar.
Outside, Papa Luthor and MamaKent (the latter wearing another business suit) are boarding the copter. "Watch your head," she yells as he fumbles through the door. Inside the helicopter, MamaKent helps Papa with his seatbelt. It's a lot of hand movement and such. MamaKent says she wasn't expecting a trip to Metropolis her first day. Papa chuckles. He tells the pilot, "Bob," to take it away. Bob pulls on the big, thick flight stick. I don't think that shot was an accident. The helicopter starts to take off, but suddenly there's the sound of metal twisting and everything gets shaky. We see the helicopter flailing, just above the ground. Bob had no idea what's going on. Ack! It's that crazy poet! He sticks his head up through the door of the copter. There's a shot from outside of him grabbing the landing gear and just shaking the helicopter. Hilarious.
Commercials. Then we come back to more helicopter shaking. The copter is turned sideways a little and a blade starts cutting into the ground. Considering they're all of five feet off the ground, this isn't exactly Passenger 57. The copter hits the ground in a badly done reversed shot. Bob is knocked unconscious, which is fine, because I sensed he wasn't really motivated in his characterization of a pilot on the edge of crisis. MamaKent plays at Papa Luthor's seat belt again, her hands moving just a little too much down there than is entirely necessary. She gets thrown out of the craft by the angry poet and then he drags Papa Luthor out onto the grass. All right! Ass kickin'! "You did this to me!" the boy grunts. Papa is thrown a few feet. "Did what?" Papa asks from the ground. Just before Byron (not so funny anymore, I'm finding) reaches Papa Luthor, Clark busts in at superspeed and knocks him aside. Poet goes rolling. MamaKent goes over to Papa Luthor and puts her body over his. I think she's a little too devoted to this job already. Clark says he doesn't want to hurt the poet and needs to get him out of the light. "No!" our would-be Keats yells. He bashes Clark with a backhand and sends him flying. "Claaaaark!" MamaKent yells. Oh, he's not hurt, and you know it. Clark sees what looks like a covered well nearby and makes his move. He rushes Byron (not funny at all now) and they both fall right through the stones. They fall down an elaborate tunnel. What is this supposed to be, anyway? Below ground, the two wrestle a bit, but as soon as Clark gets Byron (ho hum) out of the light, he changes back to normal. A little bit of morphing happens. "Clark?" he says, when he's back to normal. Clark says he's going to be all right. Man, that was anticlimactic.
Hospital room. The poet is under what looks like blue fluorescent lighting right over his bed. Clark walks in. He hands Byron (sigh) a book of a hundred limericks. Now, that's pretty funny. "They're a lost art form," Clark says. Byron (feh) smiles. He says he doesn't remember what happened. Of course. Lana walks in and says that some people are just lucky, referring to Clark's lack of injuries at the hands of The Psychotic Versemaster. Clark asks how her wrist is doing. Isn't the back of her head what he should be worried about? Poet starts to apologize, but Lana says she knows it wasn't him. "You were brave to come and find me," he says. Lana says that a friend warned her to be careful, and that she should have listened. Lana, who has her wrist in a pink cast, takes Byron's (poo) hand when he asks. They have a little moment. Clark leaves the room.
Luthor manor. Lex walks in as Papa Luthor is sitting on a leather recliner nursing an arm in a sling. So everybody hurt their arms this week? Lex says he just heard what happened. Wasn't he there the whole time? He hadn't left for work yet when the helicopter thing happened. Papa Luthor says he was relatively unscathed. Papa Luthor says he was helped by Clark, who is "an extraordinary young man." The smiling, devilish look as he says that is, for lack of better material, the Gayest Look of the Episode. MamaKent walks in on that moment and says that some funds can be transferred into a new account. Lex jokes that she's already laundering money for his father. Turns out the money is to fund research into Byron's (enough already!) condition. Papa Luthor is treated to a cooling pad on the shoulder and moans appreciatively when she puts it on. Lex says that the company's not in the charity business. MamaKent says that they'll spend less on treating the boy than on advertising to restore consumer confidence in Luthorcorp. That makes no sense whatsoever. MamaKent says that the papers will be there to sign in the morning. Papa Luthor smiles and makes little happy sounds. After she leaves, Lex smiles. "Lex," Papa Luthor says, turning toward him, "I can feel your smirk from here." Okay, that was funny, too. Lex warns Papa Luthor to be careful, or his executive assistant is going to make him rearrange all of his priorities. Starting at the pants level.
Kent farm. Mooooo! Lana walks up as Clark is throwing some hay bales around. She says that Clark did another one of his disappearing acts the night before. Clark says she needed time alone with her poet. Lana grabs a thin paperback out of Clark's back pocket. "Sonnets?" she asks. Lana says it's not his usual reading. Clark says maybe he could learn something. She asks what he thought of them. "They really weren't for me," he says. All those, you know, words. "An honest answer. I like that," Lana says. Clark apologizes for not being "straight" with Lana from the beginning. Now, that, that was intentional. I rest my subtext case. Lana says that when she was getting thrown around in the woods by Edgar Allen Pulverizer in the woods, she thought of Clark. She thought that if he were there, he'd know what to do. She says she thought she could save the guy, but she just made things worse. Clark says she was trying to help a friend. Clark asks if it doesn't bother her that he's so... "Different?" she finishes. She says that if you really like someone, you accept every part of them, but you can't do that until they're willing to share every part with you. What if they want to have hideous moles removed and then share those with you? Does that apply? Clark says that people like Byron (no more!) keep parts of themselves hidden so they don't scare people away. Like the beastly, supermutant side? Yeah, I can see that. Lana -- her nose red and looking like she's going to weep -- says you have to take that risk to get close to someone. "What if the risk is too big to take?" Clark asks. As strummy chick-rock starts to play, Lana says, "Then you might miss out on something pretty amazing." She's really not bad in this scene. What is bad is that we end on that, the camera craning up into the sky as Lana and Clark watch the cows from the back of the hay truck. I'm getting really tired of these Lana/Clark episodes. This episode stole a year from my life.
And now, a poem:
I think that I shall never see,
An episode as lifeless as thee.
With poets pale and parents hick,
But not one glance at Lex's...armadillo.
I wish I'd seen some other show,
Like 24 or the girls Gilmo',
Instead I sat through Richard Moll,
Who from good graces did far fall.
I'll sleep long now, for this was tough,
Hospital scenes? Enough, enough!
Let's hope week is better still,
'Cuz of "Nocturne," I've had my fill.
time: The first of five new episodes in a row. Didn't we just have five new episodes? Maybe it's some mistake...Lemme check...Aw, fuck!