In the Study of Super Villainy, Lex Luthor was thinking. Why does everything I touch turn bad, he thought, staring moodily at the fire, the light from the stained glass reflecting off his whisky glass. More questions arose. If he really was Lex Luthor, why couldn't he prevent Lana from getting concussion every other week? Why did one blow from a former bully send him flying over a table like a rag doll? Why did Clark Kent still appear unannounced after he had sunk a considerable chunk of change into beefing up his security? And when had he stopped drinking Ty Nant and started exclusively having whisky? He missed the pretty blue product placement bottles. They were the exact shade of Clark's favorite shirt.
Lex remembered all the After School Specials he had watched when he was a boy, the ones with names like "Help, I'm a Teenage Bulimic." Why hadn't he learned anything from them? Popularity wasn't all that. And no one could make you feel inferior without your consent. Wait, maybe that was Eleanor Roosevelt. Or his father. Well, he still should have learned that you could walk away from a fight and still maintain your self respect. If I hadn't attacked my only friend at Excelsior, Lex thought, he wouldn't have wound up in a coma and my dad wouldn't have done experiments on him, and we might've had our own law firm by now. He sighed.
In her pink boudoir, Lana Lang was thinking. It was even harder than usual because she had concussion again. How many has this been? she wondered. Every time she woke up in the Smallville Medical Center, her vision was hazy, but she still had massive déjà vu. But even concussed, she had the feeling that Lex was hiding something from her. Sometimes she asked what he was thinking, and he said nothing. Not to mention that he wouldn't give her the password to his email. Lana knew she could never stay with a man who wasn't completely honest about his every thought and feeling. Chloe told her that it was impossible for two people to have a relationship like that, unless both had telepathy, but she didn't believe it. It wasn't fair that Lex didn't trust her. But then Clark hadn't either. What is wrong with me, she thought. Am I ever going to meet a guy who's honest about everything? She pouted and decided to go shopping. The Metropolis Mall had a special on pink tops.
In the Fortress of Solitude, Clark Kent was thinking. It wasn't his favorite activity, but he was trying. Why was Lex so mad at him when he was just concerned about Lana? Why would Lex beat up his only friend at prep school? If his mother really was a senator, why did she spend so much time in the kitchen with her hands all floury? Was he still enrolled at Metropolis U, or had that plotline been dropped entirely?
Clark sighed. Why was Chloe so interested in Jimmy Olson? Why had Lois had called him retarded when he was just trying to protect her? It seemed like all his friends were mad at him lately. Well, at least his dog still loved him. But wait, did he still have a dog, or had Shelby gone the way of most TV show pooches? He hadn't seen the pup in ages? Oh well. Clark licked his lips. Thinking always made him hungry. "Hey, Mom!" he bellowed, super-speeding into the house, "Do we have any pie?"
In the cow pasture, Shelby was thinking. It had been ages since he had been allowed to appear in an episode. It wasn't fair. Happy, the Seventh Heaven dog, got a lot more screen time than that. And Happy didn't even have superpowers. Maybe he should run away, but Clark would be crushed. At least, when Clark remembered he was alive. Shelby lifted his head and sniffed. It sounded like someone was heating up pie! It sure beat the kibble mix in his bowl out here. He super-speeded into the house.
In the kitchen, Martha Kent was thinking. If she was a senator, why did she spend so much time in the kitchen? Shouldn't she be in a fancy office somewhere doing senatorial things? At least Lionel appreciated her for more than her cooking. But she had to be careful. It was still soon after Jonathan's death, and she didn't want to make Clark feel upstaged as the man of the house. She frowned. She still didn't entirely trust Lionel. His explanation of why he had just happened to be near Jonathan prior to his heart attack didn't ring true. Plus she was worried about Clark's future. It seemed like he was spending all his time hanging around the Daily Planet and hadn't attended a class in ages. Maybe she should have Lionel talk to him, no, better not. Maybe Lois could tell her what was going on instead.
In the Talon apartment, Lois was thinking. Maybe she shouldn't have called Clark's idea "retarded." After all, that wasn't very politically correct. Maybe she should be more careful around Oliver. Did he really care for her, or was she simply arm candy to impress his ex-prep school pals? She sighed. Going to the Excelsior reunion had gotten her thinking about her future. Did she want to be a senator's assistant all her life, or should she be an investigative journalist? She definitely didn't want to be a muffin peddler at the Talon. She rubbed her eyes. It was too complicated to figure out today. She decided to call Chloe, and see if she wanted to get a drink after work.
At the Daily Planet, Chloe was thinking. How had she managed to snare a full time reporter's job without even graduating from college? Even stranger, how had Lois gotten one? Just how had Lois snared a hottie like Oliver Queen anyway? Was it wrong to screen Lana's calls, so she wouldn't have to listen to her complain all the time? Were both Lex and Lionel building an army of meteor freaks? Could she get a partial refund from her unfinished semester at Metropolis U? Would Clark ever throw out his favorite blue shirt? She sighed, then refocused. She had a story to write.
In his study, Lionel was thinking. How soon could he propose to Martha Kent without it looking in extremely bad taste? After she was married to him, would she make him apple pie whenever he wanted? What about blueberry muffins? How could he convince Clark that he was a good guy now? It had been so easy after he had discovered religion; everyone had accepted everything he said at face value. But he could hardly use the same ploy twice. Speaking of proposing, when would Lex pop the question to Miss Lang? Lionel shook his head. His son was making a big mistake. Lana would never rest until she had ferreted out every last one of Lex's secrets. And then she would leave him. Oh well. At least he would get to say, I told you so. Lionel smiled and took another sip of Scotch.
In his workout room, Oliver Queen was thinking. How had Lex snared a hottie like Lana Lang? If Lex was such a super villain, why hadn't he given him a better fight? He was still the same wimp he'd been at school. It had been a waste of time asking for his forgiveness. Still, Lex could be dangerous if pushed too far. He'd have to keep an eye on him. Clark didn't realize how off Lex was, but he would eventually. Oliver smiled and fitted another arrow into his quiver. Lex had his pool cue and his fencing sword, but he had his arrows. Some day they would have another meeting of the phallic objects, and when it happened, he would be ready.
In their office, the creators of Smalville were thinking. Should Lex and Lionel be allies or enemies in the upcoming battle for justice? Should they use Shelby in an episode? Should Lois be more choosy in her choice of adjectives? Should Martha Kent bake cookies instead of a pie for a change? Would their audience grasp the significance of the new phallic objects? They frowned. Thinking was hard work. But someone had to do it.
The End