Episode Report Card
admin: B | Grade It Now!
Men Suck

Next, on an all-new Smallville: Ass-kicking! Lana, like you've never seen her before. (Will she be acting?) And now...

The Talon. (Exterior shot with an American flag hanging next to the marquee. I mean, what's more American than an old theater converted into a house of cappuccino?) Inside, some good buddies are taking a silver flask to their brightly colored cups of coffee. They've having a grand old time of it, like they're fifteen. Lana, with her stern eyebrow look, tells the guys that the coffee at The Talon is strictly "non-Irish." No Bailey's for you! Token minority frat guy tells Lana to loosen up. Frat-letter-Sweater-Wearing Guy waves his flask at Lana and invites her to have a drink. If Lana ever actually drank alcohol, the world might collapse. Lana doesn't like tomfoolery. She tells the boys to take it outside. That stops the lead frat guy, who looks like he's about forty years old. Lana says that they're closing anyway. As Lana walks away, the frat dudes make "Oooh" noises to each other.

At another table, Dr. Dropkick is sitting alone, wearing a smart light blue blazer. Lana asks if she can get Dropkick anything else. "Just a boyfriend who can keep a date," Dropkick says. Lana says Dropkick's talking to the wrong person. They have a wholly forced laugh at that. Meanwhile, some guy in a suit with a perfectly square head looks over his newspaper to give Dropkick the Smooth Eyes. Dropkick notices the stare. The front of the tabloid he's reading says something about alien danger. Lana notices that the frat guys are having a little too much fun. Dropkick looks back at Square Head Guy, but he's gone. She tells Lana she thought she saw someone she knew. Dropkick excuses herself and leaves. More forced giggles.

After Dropkick leaves, we hear one of the frat guys go, "Go get her." The lead frat guy -- who will be cashing his Social Security check after this scene is over -- comes to try to bust a move on Lana. He's much more likely to bust a hip. "We heard this place had the friendliest service in town," Fratty Oldman says in an oily way. "Just leave," says Lana, as Fratty and his buds corner her against the swinging kitchen door. Lana looks past Fratty, and the front door looks really far away. She pushes a panic button conveniently right next to her finger. "Hey!" Fratty says. This wasn't part of the gang-rape plan! He grabs Lana by the arms and swings her against a heavy-looking set of shelves. Blue tinted glassware and orange cups fall all over the place. Lana hits the ground, but doesn't get cut on any of the glass. The other frat boys stick out their chins with brotherly pride. Fratty Oldman puts his hand on Lana's chin and suggests that they take this into the back. "Stop! Get away from her!" we hear. It's Clark, who is suddenly inside the coffeehouse without anyone's having noticed his entrance. Fratty Oldman gets up, wondering who this young whippersnapper of about twenty-eight years could be. "Isn't it past your bedtime?" Fratty asks. Oh, that's funny. None of these guys would get IDed at a bar. Clark says that the police are on their way. Lana looks up at everyone from the floor instead of picking herself up. "Come on. Let's go," Fratty tells his comrades. The guy with the frat letters appears to be wearing the letters "Orgy Omega Ass." Clark bends down to check on Lana. She says she's fine, but she's near tears.

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