Clark is led to his itty-bitty table. He sits heavily. A waitress in a white nurse outfit asks "Handsome" what she can get for him. Is a Cleveland Steamer on the menu? No? Clark hesitates. "I'll have a Coke," he decides. With...Crown? Rum? The blood of an Irishman? "Straight up, on the rocks," Clark manages. Smooth, yet chunky, Clark. The waitress nods, like, "I won't be fucking him tonight," and walks away. Clark adjusts his tie, which, unlike his science, is too tight.
On stage, the "stripper" still has all her clothes on, but gets applause anyway. The announcer tells the audience that they've got a girl making her debut at the club. He asks the crowd to welcome the All-American girl, Amber Waves. Indeed, American flag graphics appear on the curtain. Lois is in silhouette, wearing a little sailor hat. She emerges wearing huge red boots, a white sailor top, and a little blue skirt. She's also wearing aviator sunglasses. She salutes, awkwardly. She marches in place, and it's not so much sexy as it is completely bumming out my reproductive system. She starts to take off her top like she's going to cry. Her bikini top is one half stars, one half red and white stripes, and two halves saline implant. She takes off her skirt, revealing red and blue shiny hotpants. The song playing is "Don't Cha" by the Pussycat Dolls, who couldn't be here tonight because...well, Lois has got it covered, doesn't she? Lois dances robotically and takes off her hat and sunglasses. She pops her head up and looks just like Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas. Yikes! Put it all back on! Please! Clark suddenly recognizes her. Lois starts to get into the song a bit more as she sees bored men staring at her. She grabs the pole and rears back, and suddenly it's like she never left the strip-club circuit. She humps the pole, spins around, twirls. The guys in the club have all of a sudden never seen a greater stripper in their entire lives. She's...she's...incompetent, yet do-able! Clark looks very embarrassed for her. Lois notices Clark. She stops dancing for a second as Clark looks completely bewildered. Lois, sweaty now, still ain't dancing. Her dance ends before it really begins. "I'd salute to that anytime," says the DJ. Wait, she's still got her top on? What kind of G-rated bullshit club is this? Wow, I'm sure glad we heeded Lex's warning about the dark things that go on here. Non-topless topless dancing. Scandalous!
Lois leaves the stage and is followed by "Dixie," the cowgirl from backstage. Lois walks up behind Clark's chair and says, through clenched teeth, "What are you doing here?!" Clark asks her the same question. Tuition, Clark, what do you think? The club manager notices the two of them talking. Lois smiles at Clark, and then bends over toward him. He sees approaching boobs and ducks his head back. Lois explains that she and Chloe are following a murder story. Clark says he is, too, but thinks he'll stick to his method. Looking constipated in the back of a club without using any of your superpowers? Great plan, pantswad. The club employees are still eyeing Lois, so she climbs into Clark's lap. He looks very annoyed. Lois grabs his face and tells him that she's going to get fired if he keeps looking at her like she's Jabba the Hut. More like Jabba the Slut. Huh huh. Clark asks what she wants him to do. She asks for $20. Clark's eyes widen as he stares right into the gigantic orbs before him. It's beautiful in there...we all float...come join us, Clark! Clark finds a folded up $20 bill in his pocket, but doesn't know where to put it. "Uhhh," he says. Lois rolls her eyes, grabs the bill and stuffs it into her boob pocket. Somehow, it turns into a $50 on the way there. Inflation! Worst lapdance ever! Clark breathes heavily as Lois gets off of him.