Bird's-eye view of Metropolis. A red streak zips through the streets at night. Clark deposits a gift in a holiday-decorated house where they left candles burning at night. Fire hazard! Clark zips out again. More streets. More zipping. Clark is in another house (breaking and entering, much?) and spies some milk and cookies. He superzips out and the cookies and half the milk are gone. Oh, you, Clark. Streets. Zipping. A little girl holding a stuffed animal says, "You're not Santa Claus!" You're not even Jack Skellington! Hey, at least he's not a Teamster. "Yes, I am," says Clark, trying to reach for his Santa hat. "I'm the new improved model." With no Mrs. Claus. And a rainbow bumper sticker. "Liar. You can't be Santa. He is!" the girl says, pointing out the window. Indeed, there's a liquor-swigging Santa about to fall off a nearby roof. Clark looks toward Santa as the camera pulls in tight.
Commercials. I think if you actually tried to wear Old Navy clothes to a red-carpet event, the fleece would spontaneously combust.
A rooftop. Santa is teetering near the edge as Clark superzips up there to, I don't know, push him off and take his place for real? Clark asks if Santa isn't a little too close to the edge. "Makes it easier to jump," says the drunken old Santa. Yes. That is true. Santa gives Clark a dirty look. Self-consciously, Clark takes off his hat. Clark asks if he can sit. "It's a free...whatever," says Bad Santa. He asks if Clark wants a drink. Clark doesn't. Clark invites Santa to have a seat. Santa says bitterly that he's got no place to be. As warm music plays, Clark asks Santa what he's doing up here: "Why are you gonna jump?" Santa goes on a lame spiel about how the world is all screwed up and everything is "take, take, take, bitch, bitch, bitch." He has definitely been watching too much MTV Cribs. "What happened to Christmas? Peace on Earth? Goodwill toward men?" Dude, Hallmark has the copyright on all of those. Santa gets up and stands near the edge again. "The spirit of Christmas is dead!" he shouts. Boo. Go to bed, old man! Santa says it'll take a lot more than him to revive it. We need a Victoria's Secret fashion show! Clark stays alert in case the fat man should leap.
Medical Center. Lex is still unconscious. The doctor wants to increase Lex's fluids (hey, who doesn't?) and give him 8 mg of Decadron, a steroid. Papa, appearing suddenly, says that they only need to give Lex whatever he requires for them to move him. He's being airlifted to the Davis Center in Metropolis. Papa has a team waiting behind him to do so. "I can't condone this!" Scanlan says. Papa tells him he doesn't have to. Papa leans in toward Lex's face. "You are going to walk, son," he says. Just not right now.