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Papa Don't Screech

Lana turns to Lex. Just as they might start to suck face again, Lex's cell phone rings. Lex tries to ignore it, but Lana tells him he should get it, and that's she's going back to Metropolis. Lex is making her drive around back and forth? Lana says that she'll call him later. Lex watches her go as she scurries out. She leaves the door open. Lex answers his cell. "What?" he asks, annoyed. Lex listens briefly, and then tells the person on the line to get a security team together and meet him at LuthorCorp plaza. Do you mean the Vermont Teddy Bear security team, or the one made up of egg-laying hens and boxes of Crunch-'n-Munch? Because one of the two teams is clearly more delicious. Also, Lex tells his caller to keep this situation internal because he doesn't want anyone to know his father is missing. Why must everything be a secret, Lex? Someday you might end up as bad as Clark.

We're zoomed in on Tinfoil Alien's blue-tinted eye. The camera pulls back to show him on screen behind Papa Luthor, who is sweating up a magnificent storm. "Getting a little warm?" Tinfoil asks. He asks about the flames licking at Papa Luthor's feet as Papa, in a wifebeater, is balancing the pole of justice scales. Papa Luthor is walking through flames, pretty much. Tinfoil asks whether Papa Luthor doesn't wish he had those $1,000 Italian shoes he favors. Right now some fireman's boots would be nice. Papa Luthor tells Tinfoil that he grew up in Suicide Slums, and that sweat is something he's very familiar with. Tinfoil says that all changed when Papa Luthor's parents died in the fire he set. Papa spills a bit of the flammable liquid, and flames rise up high, off to the side. "I didn't kill my parents," Papa says, stoically. Tinfoil says that if you tell a lie long enough, you begin to believe it. Papa steps up on a platform. Tinfoil asks what Papa Luthor has learned from this little game "before the flesh is seared from your bones." Oh, dude, just shut up already. Papa Luthor steps on a second platform and says, "Yeah. You talk to much." Worrrrrd 'em up. He grits his teeth, and raises the bar over his head and onto the hook. "Careful, careful," Tinfoil taunts as he reminds Papa Luthor about his dead limo driver. Papa Luthor lets go of the pole. It teeters; then, amazingly, it balances. Tinfoil congratulates Papa Luthor on his acquittal. The meat hook lowers. A trap door opens, and somehow Papa Luthor is flung through it as the room is engulfed in flames. I think Papa is defying gravity a bit this week.

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