At the Smallville production offices, May 2003:
Al Gough: Man.
Miles Millar: Yeah.
Miles: You said it.
Al: What happened? We were doing fine, right? What have we done?
Miles: What's this "we" shit, white man?
Al: You're white too.
Miles: Oh. Damn. Well, what are we gonna do? We completely boned ourselves here! Season Two started off so well!
Al: Ah yes. Eye ejaculation.
Miles: People aren't happy, Al. People are starting to grumble.
Al: Wait, I know! [Dials phone]
Smallville Original Creator Tim McCanlies: Hello?
Al: Hey, it's Miles and Al!
Tim McCanlines: I already told you guys to leave me the hell alone. [Hangs up.]
Al: Well, crap.
Miles: Look, calm down. Here's what we'll do. We'll tone down the Lana. We'll let Lex take his shirt off. We'll film everything in Metropolis all gritty and blue and verité. Shit, we could even give Bo Duke some superpowers.
Al: You know...that's just crazy enough to work.
Miles: It better. Because I'm not going back to cranking out more Shanghai Noon movies.
Welcome back, folks. Let's get this season started, quickly.
The extended flashback brings us back up to speed, but then if that's what you wanted, you could go read last season's finale recap. That's why we keep it around. We open with a full moon and a cloudy sky. "Three Months Later," the title card reads. "HD Presented by RCA" is also shown on the screen with the RCA dog, and the way he's facing, it looks like he's sniffing the huge Daily Planet rooftop globe, which suddenly comes into view. The glove spins and we soar over it and through its planetary hoop. We swoosh past spotlights, and down to the street level, where a very shaggy-headed Clark Kent is bouncing to the beat of his own internal music, which I hope is better than the jaunty alt-crap that's playing. Quick shot of Clark's hand: Yep, he's still got the red Kryptonite ring. And it's his right hand, so we don't know if he got married (or had a civil ceremony depending on the sex of this imaginary spouse I've conjured for him) in those three months. You can tell by the way Clark uses his walk, he's a woman's man: no time to talk. Except for when he's a man's man. Then he's The Sexy. It's nighttime, yet Clark spots a "Metropolis Luxury Auto" dealership that's still open. Inside, a very sleek silver car (is that a Lamborghini? I don't know from cars) is spinning around on a showroom-floor turntable. Clark does a little "Mmm, I am interested in this insert shot" gesture with his lips.