And so I finish telling Clark the Snow story and look over at him. I can't believe it - the guys got tears in his eyes. I must be one heck of a storyteller.
Anyway, then the nurse that's looking after my Dad turns up (he keeps telling me that she's the Grim Reaper in disguise come to take him away - him and his stories).
"Hey, Clark, remember me," she says. "We met that one time. You were wearing a different outfit."
"You too," replies Clark, obviously recognizing her. "What's with the pink?"
"Lana can be very persuasive."
Clark nods. "How's Pete doing?"
"A case of the stubborns. He refuses to move until he sees snow."
"A shame he doesn't really know Superman," I say, attempting to join in. "Then again, there's no rain forecast."
"Go look after your Dad, Alex," Clark says to me, unbuttoning his collar, "I've got a job to do."
So I'm sat by my Dad's bedside with the nurse, and we're looking out of the window at the cloudless evening sky when all of a sudden some dark clouds start to roll in.
"Where did they come from?" I ask.
"He blew them here," says my Dad, telling his tall tales to the last. And then the rain starts falling, heavily, and we hear the raindrops pounding against the window, but then the pounding stops and outside the window there's no longer rain, but snow.
I run up to the window and look, up in the sky, and there beneath one of the clouds I see him, pirouetting round and round, a magenta blur, the rain around him getting converted to snow by his icy breath.
But where I see Superman in the snow, Dad only sees Lana, dancing like she did all those years ago.
And the night closes in.
THE END