Chloe Sullivan was standing in The Torch's office, wearing a long black coat with unfeasibly large shoulder pads, when she saw Edward Kent's silhouette appear at the door. Quickly she opened the door and ushered Edward inside.
"Hi, Edward. Sorry I didn't catch you this morning as planned, but a couple of things came up ... totally unforeseen. Anyway, today's the big day. The press conference is planned for tonight and ..."
"Cancel it," interrupted Edward.
"But it's all arranged. Sure you're nervous but you'll get over it. They'll love you, really they will."
"It's not about me," explained Edward. "It's about you, Chloe."
"What about me?" asked Chloe, confused.
"Last night, I went to that field with your face and I found ..."
"Whitney," exclaimed Chloe, realization dawning.
"That's right. He said you'd gotten the football team to leave him tied up there as a scarecrow, and then you'd gone and dumped him."
"Yes, but I can explain," replied Chloe. "He lied to me ... about you. He almost destroyed my story. I admit that tying him up in that field was neither nice nor original, but you've got to forgive me, Edward."
"When I found Whitney he was hoarse from shouting," recalled Edward aloud. "I helped him down, gave him another one of my coats, and then stayed there, looking at your face in that field and wondering how you could have done such a thing. And then I looked in the sky and I saw a blue fairy."
"That was me. I was coming to untie Whitney, but then I spotted you'd already done it," lied Chloe. Actually, having discovered her mutation was due to Whitney's gift, she was about to, in a moment of what could possibly be viewed as evil, introduce the hoarse Fordman to his own apocalypse.
"It doesn't matter. The story's over." Chloe had never seen Edward so serious before.
"But you've got to do it," pleaded a desperate Chloe. "We've already started work on the merchandising. Some plastic scissor hands have already been dropped at your home for you to approve."
Edward started to turn away.
"But I'm in partnership with Lionel Luthor," added Chloe. "He owns you. He's still got the receipts."
Edward continued to turn away.
Finally, a desperate Chloe threw her coat off, revealing her wings. "Us freaks have got to stick together."
Edward turned back to Chloe. "Chloe, could you please open the door for me."
Later that day, as darkness was falling, a breathless Lana Lang arrived at the Kents' farm to find Edward standing in a barn, looking at some shoddy plastic scissor hands.
"Show me your hands," she yelled at him, tears running down her cheeks.
Slowly Edward took his scissor hands out of his pockets.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, stunned by the sight before her. "I thought we were friends."
"I wanted us to stay friends," replied Edward calmly. "I guess the press conference went ahead without me then."
"It's worse than that," Lana said. "Chloe came out with this story that you'd attacked a young Lex Luthor in a field. The townsfolk have gathered into an angry mob and they're heading over here. Nothing will stop them - Lex tried to stop them but they didn't believe it was him with that new haircut; Whitney tried to get them to stop and they just overpowered him and tied him up in a field. Fortunately mobs aren't very fast so I managed to get here before them."
"Maybe I should wait here and try and discuss things with them," reasoned Edward.
"No, Edward," explained Lana. "You've got to hide."
A scissor-handed figure fled from the Kents farm only to be followed by the angry mob. Fortunately, as Lana had stated, mobs weren't very fast and the distance between the figure and the mob grew and grew.
Unfortunately, the mob weren't the only people in pursuit of the figure. From high in the sky a winged figure took aim with a stone and threw it with unerring accuracy. Far below the figure collapsed to the ground.
"Rock breaks scissors," thought Chloe, as she saw the mob catching up to the fallen figure.
Of course, from that distance Chloe hadn't noticed that the figure wasn't quite as tall as Edward Kent, and the first member of the mob to reach the figure and smash their MONSTER placard over the figure's head was too caught up in the moment to notice the figure's lack of stature. In fact the figure had undergone considerable pummeling before somebody noticed that the scissor hands weren't real but plastic, and the figure was turned over to reveal the pale face of Lana Lang.
Later, at the Smallville morgue, one of the workers picked up the ringing phone.
"Hello," he answered.
"Hello," replied the confused voice at the other end of the line. "Is Lana Lang there?"
"Yes, she's just got here."
"Could I please speak to her?"
He slammed down the phone. Another crank call.