The house that has withstood the test of bad poetry. Pete and Clark come up the front porch. Pete asks what happened to waiting for the sheriff. Clark says he needs to know if their poet is in there. He takes a nailed-up wood blank off a window. As Clark reaches in, a dog comes and bites his arm. The dog whimpers and scampers away. Pete says that Clark is a regular "Dr. Doolittle." Except Dr. Doolittle talked to animals. Man. Clark and Pete go through the window. Inside. A moose head, a shotgun. "This place is like an NRA petting zoo," Pete says. Clark uses his x-ray vision to see through the floor, but can't make out much. He pulls a rug and says there's something underneath, but it must be made of lead because he can't see through. There's an awful lot of lead in people's basements around here. Pete says that Clark should come with an instruction manual. Like the one William Katt lost in The Greatest American Hero! Clark pulls open a lock that's holding an entrance to the lower level. He opens it.
Inside, light pours in on the poet's dark repose. "What did they do to you?" Clark asks when he sees the poor boy and his shackles. Byron (bwah!) says it's not what Clark thinks. Clark vows to get him out of there. He pulls the chains off. "How did you do that?" the poet asks. "Rusty lock," Clark says. Shirtless Goth Boy resists being taken. He says his dad will be upset. Clark tries to convince the poet that nobody deserves this. "You don't understand!" he yells. Clark says he understands more than the young man knows. He grabs him and takes him outside, sans shirt. For a moment, it looks like an episode of COPS.
Lanky poet is thrown into the light. He screams and falls to the ground, writhing. Weird gashes come out of his shoulder blade areas. He grunts, "You should have listened to me" in a demonic voice. When Clark goes to help, he swings and sends Clark flying the requisite thirty feet. (At least.) Clark crashes on top of a shed. Goth Boy gets up and stares down Pete with his huge-pupiled dark eyes. He asks what Pete is looking at, and throws him over the porch and into a parked car. Pete goes right through the windshield, painfully. Clark gets up. Comically, the now-evil poet runs off. "Woof!" he says. Clark goes for Pete. Pete is moving his head and arm, but is clearly in pain. Damn violent poets!
The Kents show up in Pete's very colorful hospital room. So where's Pete's family and his multitude of brothers? I'm beginning to think we're never, ever going to se them. Clark is standing by Pete's bed. Pete has a blue cast on his arm. He tells the Kents that he has a hairline fracture. He says it's ironic because it hurts everywhere else except his hairline. I'm going to chalk up that line to your pain medication, Pete. MamaKent calls him "Sweetie" and rubs his head. Man, she is just desperate to give affection this week to those outside her marital bed. Pete says that being part of this family should come with its own group health insurance. Nurse! Less morphine! Bo is mad that Clark didn't wait for the sheriff. Can the sheriff do this? (Clark superspeeds around the room and lifts Pete's hospital bed with his big toe.) Clark says that the poet was chained to a wall. When they got him outside, Pete says, he kinda went "Jekyll and Hyde." Clark says he tried to stop the guy. "'Tried'?" Bo asks, "How big a change are we talking here?" So big a change that if there was a bigger budget, it would have been American Werewolf in London instead of a few back gashes and some colored contact lenses.