Commercials. Then we come back to more helicopter shaking. The copter is turned sideways a little and a blade starts cutting into the ground. Considering they're all of five feet off the ground, this isn't exactly Passenger 57. The copter hits the ground in a badly done reversed shot. Bob is knocked unconscious, which is fine, because I sensed he wasn't really motivated in his characterization of a pilot on the edge of crisis. MamaKent plays at Papa Luthor's seat belt again, her hands moving just a little too much down there than is entirely necessary. She gets thrown out of the craft by the angry poet and then he drags Papa Luthor out onto the grass. All right! Ass kickin'! "You did this to me!" the boy grunts. Papa is thrown a few feet. "Did what?" Papa asks from the ground. Just before Byron (not so funny anymore, I'm finding) reaches Papa Luthor, Clark busts in at superspeed and knocks him aside. Poet goes rolling. MamaKent goes over to Papa Luthor and puts her body over his. I think she's a little too devoted to this job already. Clark says he doesn't want to hurt the poet and needs to get him out of the light. "No!" our would-be Keats yells. He bashes Clark with a backhand and sends him flying. "Claaaaark!" MamaKent yells. Oh, he's not hurt, and you know it. Clark sees what looks like a covered well nearby and makes his move. He rushes Byron (not funny at all now) and they both fall right through the stones. They fall down an elaborate tunnel. What is this supposed to be, anyway? Below ground, the two wrestle a bit, but as soon as Clark gets Byron (ho hum) out of the light, he changes back to normal. A little bit of morphing happens. "Clark?" he says, when he's back to normal. Clark says he's going to be all right. Man, that was anticlimactic.
Hospital room. The poet is under what looks like blue fluorescent lighting right over his bed. Clark walks in. He hands Byron (sigh) a book of a hundred limericks. Now, that's pretty funny. "They're a lost art form," Clark says. Byron (feh) smiles. He says he doesn't remember what happened. Of course. Lana walks in and says that some people are just lucky, referring to Clark's lack of injuries at the hands of The Psychotic Versemaster. Clark asks how her wrist is doing. Isn't the back of her head what he should be worried about? Poet starts to apologize, but Lana says she knows it wasn't him. "You were brave to come and find me," he says. Lana says that a friend warned her to be careful, and that she should have listened. Lana, who has her wrist in a pink cast, takes Byron's (poo) hand when he asks. They have a little moment. Clark leaves the room.