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Next on, "Smallville..."

Jason comes up to Countess Lana. He says he doesn't want to be rude, but he's just doing to say goodbye to Chloe, kick her in the teeth, and take off. Countess Lana says condescendingly that he's a big boy and he can do what he wants. "You're the one who wanted me here," he says. Fuck you, Chloe! "Things change," Countess Lana says. Jason asks why she's acting like this. He also asks why she's dressed like that. "Because it makes me feel sexy," Countess Lana says. Jason looks at her in horror, the way you'd look at a six-year-old in high heels singing, "Happy birthday Mr. President..." "Weren't you leaving?" Countess Lana asks when Jason won't go away. He takes the hint.

Maddie-Chloe's hair is coming loose, but she's still having a great time munching. She tells Countess Lana that the food is so good here. Countess Lana likes that the men actually bathe. Briana-Lois sees a tall guy walk by and admires that the bodies are so hard. Yeah, in the American Midwest, everybody's just a hunk of steel. It's like nobody ever ate a Cheeto here. Briana-Lois says they've better celebrations than this, though. Maddie-Chloe says they can change that. Countess Lana thinks about it and supposes that they can have a little fun before continuing their four-hundred-year quest. That's right. Witches gotta fight...for their PAAAAARTY! The three of them do a quick spin toward a waiting camera. Charlie's Angels! Da da daaaa...da daa da daaaa da daaaa. Oh, whups, sorry. Where was I? The three neowitches do the horizontal Hook'ems, and each of them has her own little Tamagotchi-sized purple orb to cast magic. Great. They're gonna round up a bunch of Pokémons now. "Ribbitup Vienna Sausage!" Countess Lana spells. Purple mist engulfs the party.

Suddenly? It's a Budweiser commercial. The big boombox with "Go Crows" on its speaker grills blasts out some new Gwen Stefani. Formerly lame Kansas partygoers are now moderately cooler Kansas partygoers, and some of the men are going shirtless. That's what it's come to. A big party on Smallville is just a regular party in a barn with music and shirtless dudes. As a shirtless guy passes, a black man in a dark suit and tie whom I mistook for about three seconds as my dearly departed Principal Asskick (minus the asskicking) walks in through a beaded curtain with Christmas lights on it. He's like, "Did somebody announce it's Miller Time and leave it off my itinerary?" He looks around in shock, this college recruiter, at the Poor Man's attempt to create the flesh orgy scene from The Matrix Reloaded. If he was really a college recruiter, the only thing that would shock him is if everybody were wearing Pagan ritual masks and shooting speedballs into a zebra's ass. And even then, he'd think, "Yeah, this is just like when I used to recruit for Ohio State." Briana-Lois is on the stairs, slinking with a crew-cut-hair guy. "Where's Clark Kent?" the recruiter asks the nearest shirtless himbo. The guy points up to the loft.

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