1 Cool
"Hello?"
"Hello. This is Lex Luthor. I'm not sure if you remember me, I lived at your house for a few years, people say we look alike—"
"Drop dead."
"You're the one who keeps yelling at me for not telling you who's on the phone."
"Yeah, and rather than expect that you would actually start identifying yourself, I got Caller ID. Shit!"
"What?"
"Nothing."
"What are you doing? There are weird noises in the background."
"I'm cooking."
Silence.
"If you've got the phone receiver covered because you're laughing at me, I will super-glue a clown wig to your head."
"I would never laugh at my little sister's valiant attempts at domesticity."
"You know, if you ever came home, you would know that I'm a wonderful cook."
"What are you making? And who are you making it for?"
"Nobody."
"Uh-oh."
"Bryan."
"Radiohead Bryan?"
"Yeah. He's coming over for the evening—Dad's in Washington, so we've got the whole place to ourselves."
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"And that covers what, exactly?"
"Fair enough."
"Anyway, I'm making a chicken dish with lemon sauce and rice, and I just cut myself."
"You're talking to me while you're bleeding?"
"I forgot how wussy you are about blood and death and stuff."
"I'm not—it just makes me a little uncomfortable."
"Big old wuss, that's my brother. Remember when I broke my arm, and you had to call 911, and you fainted before you got to the phone? And *I* had to call them?"
"No matter how hard I try to forget."
"Your girlfriends always laugh when I tell them that story."
"And then they break up with me."
"If a girl has ever broken up with you—except the drag queen Victoria—I will inhale this chicken through my nose."
"I'm tempted to lie, just to see if you'll do it."
"What's going on in your neck of the woods?"
"Studying colloquialisms again, are we?"
"Yes, we are. Anything exciting happen lately?"
"Nothing much. I had a painful discussion with the Kents, about their farm."
"Look, I know you want to repay Clark for saving your life, but getting mixed up in their family business-"
"I'm not involved in the business. They didn't take the offer."
"Uh-oh. You sound bitter."
"Mr. Kent didn't trust me. Said I was just like my father. I… I'm tired of apologizing for him."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Nothing. Nothing I *can* do. They want to hate me, that's fine. But I'm not going away."
"That's my big brother. You make me so proud. How's my Adonis doing?"
"Your Adonis is hopeless when it comes to the fairer sex."
"And here you men types have been complaining about how *un* fair we are. What happened? You got them the tickets, right?"
"To Radiohead, as a matter of fact. And he asked her out and everything seemed to be going perfectly."
"And then, disaster struck."
"He stood her up."
"He stood her up?"
"There was some kid who'd killed a girl running around Smallville, and Clark evidently felt the heroic impulse again."
"Wait a minute. You just said that nothing much exciting is going on. But there was a homicidal kid running around?"
"Well, you get used to that sort of thing in Smallville."
"Somebody arrested him, right?"
"No…"
"*No*?"
"He's in my lake."
"Your—you know what? I don't want to know. So the star-crossed lovers didn't get to see the concert."
"No. Lana and her boyfriend ended up here, actually."
"How did *that* happen?"
"Not sure. The homicidal kid somehow wrecked their car, and they walked here."
"This is the boyfriend who got into a car accident a few weeks ago, right? Man, I wish he'd just *die* in one of these accidents and clear up the field."
"I know."
"We're going straight to hell."
"We'll be with friends."
"Poor Clark. He has to fend off the homicidal maniac while the boyfriend gets… well, his girlfriend. Better luck next time."
"Mm. I'm starting to lose hope."
"Then just butt out and let Clark take care of it. He's an adolescent, and he's going to screw up whether you're there to help him or not."
"I just—"
"You don't want to owe him anything."
"No—well, yes. But there's something about him. I don't think he likes me because of the money."
"Knowing his family, he probably likes you in spite of it."
"Exactly. And—you don't meet many people. Like that."
"You think he's got an agenda?"
"I think there's a lot I don't know about him."
"Well, find out. And stop brooding. There are a *few* people in this world who like you because of you, and not because of your money or your family or anything."
"Like who?"
"I don't know anybody personally. I'm just assuming. Oh! God, that's the doorbell. I'm so nervous."
"You'll do fine."
"I wish you were here, so I could ask if I look all right."
"You look much better than all right."
"Really?"
"Just like Mom."
"Aw. I'll call you tomorrow. Love you."
"You, too."
"Hello?"
"Hello. This is Lex Luthor. I'm not sure if you remember me, I lived at your house for a few years, people say we look alike—"
"Drop dead."
"You're the one who keeps yelling at me for not telling you who's on the phone."
"Yeah, and rather than expect that you would actually start identifying yourself, I got Caller ID. Shit!"
"What?"
"Nothing."
"What are you doing? There are weird noises in the background."
"I'm cooking."
Silence.
"If you've got the phone receiver covered because you're laughing at me, I will super-glue a clown wig to your head."
"I would never laugh at my little sister's valiant attempts at domesticity."
"You know, if you ever came home, you would know that I'm a wonderful cook."
"What are you making? And who are you making it for?"
"Nobody."
"Uh-oh."
"Bryan."
"Radiohead Bryan?"
"Yeah. He's coming over for the evening—Dad's in Washington, so we've got the whole place to ourselves."
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"And that covers what, exactly?"
"Fair enough."
"Anyway, I'm making a chicken dish with lemon sauce and rice, and I just cut myself."
"You're talking to me while you're bleeding?"
"I forgot how wussy you are about blood and death and stuff."
"I'm not—it just makes me a little uncomfortable."
"Big old wuss, that's my brother. Remember when I broke my arm, and you had to call 911, and you fainted before you got to the phone? And *I* had to call them?"
"No matter how hard I try to forget."
"Your girlfriends always laugh when I tell them that story."
"And then they break up with me."
"If a girl has ever broken up with you—except the drag queen Victoria—I will inhale this chicken through my nose."
"I'm tempted to lie, just to see if you'll do it."
"What's going on in your neck of the woods?"
"Studying colloquialisms again, are we?"
"Yes, we are. Anything exciting happen lately?"
"Nothing much. I had a painful discussion with the Kents, about their farm."
"Look, I know you want to repay Clark for saving your life, but getting mixed up in their family business-"
"I'm not involved in the business. They didn't take the offer."
"Uh-oh. You sound bitter."
"Mr. Kent didn't trust me. Said I was just like my father. I… I'm tired of apologizing for him."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Nothing. Nothing I *can* do. They want to hate me, that's fine. But I'm not going away."
"That's my big brother. You make me so proud. How's my Adonis doing?"
"Your Adonis is hopeless when it comes to the fairer sex."
"And here you men types have been complaining about how *un* fair we are. What happened? You got them the tickets, right?"
"To Radiohead, as a matter of fact. And he asked her out and everything seemed to be going perfectly."
"And then, disaster struck."
"He stood her up."
"He stood her up?"
"There was some kid who'd killed a girl running around Smallville, and Clark evidently felt the heroic impulse again."
"Wait a minute. You just said that nothing much exciting is going on. But there was a homicidal kid running around?"
"Well, you get used to that sort of thing in Smallville."
"Somebody arrested him, right?"
"No…"
"*No*?"
"He's in my lake."
"Your—you know what? I don't want to know. So the star-crossed lovers didn't get to see the concert."
"No. Lana and her boyfriend ended up here, actually."
"How did *that* happen?"
"Not sure. The homicidal kid somehow wrecked their car, and they walked here."
"This is the boyfriend who got into a car accident a few weeks ago, right? Man, I wish he'd just *die* in one of these accidents and clear up the field."
"I know."
"We're going straight to hell."
"We'll be with friends."
"Poor Clark. He has to fend off the homicidal maniac while the boyfriend gets… well, his girlfriend. Better luck next time."
"Mm. I'm starting to lose hope."
"Then just butt out and let Clark take care of it. He's an adolescent, and he's going to screw up whether you're there to help him or not."
"I just—"
"You don't want to owe him anything."
"No—well, yes. But there's something about him. I don't think he likes me because of the money."
"Knowing his family, he probably likes you in spite of it."
"Exactly. And—you don't meet many people. Like that."
"You think he's got an agenda?"
"I think there's a lot I don't know about him."
"Well, find out. And stop brooding. There are a *few* people in this world who like you because of you, and not because of your money or your family or anything."
"Like who?"
"I don't know anybody personally. I'm just assuming. Oh! God, that's the doorbell. I'm so nervous."
"You'll do fine."
"I wish you were here, so I could ask if I look all right."
"You look much better than all right."
"Really?"
"Just like Mom."
"Aw. I'll call you tomorrow. Love you."
"You, too."