The voice-over continues as we jet over to the Crashdown, Liz dreamily wiping off the counter and watching as Max walks up to the front door, stares in mournfully all, "But it's the only place to eeeeeeeeeat," and moving swiftly away before Slackjaw has a chance to swoop down and enact some of that just-add-third-season-necessity-and-stir Instant Vigilant Justice we've come to know so well. And here is what the voice-over says: "Over and over, it's you and me holding hands and flying through the night. I know it sounds cornball, but it isn't. It's amazink! Like Superman and Lois Lane in the first movie. Y'know, the good one." Thus splitting the audience into the two polarizing camps of the ones that screams, "If your version of 'the good one' is The Quest for Peace, where Gene Hackman is all bloated and cashing his paycheck in the middle every scene so he can pay for his replacement colostomy bags, damn geezer" and the one that smacks its collective forehead, yells, "Oh, shit! Smallville premiere!" and lunges thankfully for the remote.
Kyle "Cure For The Common Show" Valenti walks in the front door of The Den Of Porno wearing a (honk honk!) Better Get Maaco ones-y and carrying a few pieces of mail. He finds his father, Jim "Porno" Valenti, sound asleep in a brown (natch) recliner inordinately close to the camera, clears his throat, taps the mail, and finally resorts to slamming the door shut to wake up his deadbeat dad. Porno rises and asks how Kyle's day at work was. We learn that "it sucked as usual," and he banters in ready-made backstory about how he's been working at -- I guess -- some kind of body shop. He flips open the mail and reads, "Your credit rating may be adversely affected by this action," recapping for MightyBigCollectionAgency.com with the insta-snark, "Well, it was nice of them to let us know." Too bad we never got the same purely informational letter informing us that Kyle was now Kyle Valenti, Monochromatic Mechanic. It just seemed like it would have been a helpful bit of information, is all. Kyle walks into the kitchen all man-o-the-house, point-blanking to Porno, "So, how's the job search going? You got any prospects for a full-time, well-paying job in your future?" Poor oppressed bacon-bringer-homer Kyle, loosening the tie and pouring himself a scotch from the sidebar. Where's his chicken pot pie, bitch? But Porno has some sort-of news this time, as opposed to all those other times, in which we did not have the opportunity to see or hear anything about the build-up of this enticing drama because, plot develop all you want on a stumbling push toward continuity, "writers," but please do tack a post-it up on the "Writers'" Room bulletin board that reminds everybody that THIS SHOW DOESN'T AIR DEVELOPMENTS TANGENTIALLY IMPLIED TO HAVE TAKEN PLACE OVER THE SUMMER. There you go. Clip 'n' save. Dramatic tension of this scene pretty much diffused by that truism, we are not able to celebrate with Kyle when he smiles and asks of Porno, "You got a job?" For he has suffered off-camera for so long. Apparently. But Porno qualifies that it's not so much a job as it is "sort of a -- how do I describe this -- a business. Kind of a small business." The archetypal tough-guy auto-mechanic type, Kyle returns from the kitchen with a glass of hot pink bug juice in a glass, excited about his father's prospects. But Porno tells him that he needs to sit on the idea for a little longer, and he'll let Kyle know just what it is in a few days. Kyle, disappointed, returns to the kitchen to see if he can turn up the origins of this subplot under of a stack of old newspapers, or maybe in the cookie jar.