Commercials. No offense to the lovely ladies of Sex and the City: The Movie, but I really hope there aren't too many sequels because I don't know if I can get behind a 65-year-old Samantha rapping about blowjobs and salad tossing.

Against a black screen, we see a title card: "14 Hours Earlier." I'd be a lot more excited if it said, "28 Days Later" and zombies were eating Jimmy. Someone is in a kitchen using some very nice red utensils (like mine!) to make an unholy mess. An egg is cracked sloppily against the side of a red plastic bowl. A manual beater is used to stir some batter. Said batter is used to make a floppy, sad-looking pancake. That pancake is flipped and screams at us in midair. "I am an abomination!" it cries. Pray for the pancake. A metal tin of coffee beans is knocked over, spilling them everywhere. A brother of the earlier monster pancake is flipped and lands on the counter. "Put me back, put me back! It's COLD!" the pancake screams. The klutzy cook picks up the pancake by hand ("Ouch, ouch, ouch!") and throws it back in the pan. Then an orange is being squeezed on an old-school glass juicer. Fruits are cut up and placed gingerly on a plate. Toast is burned. We see now that it's Jimmy massacring breakfast. Jimmy, it seems, is not a nutritious part of this complete breakfast. Chloe walks into the kitchen and sees what appears to be the remnants of an indoor tornado. "OJ?" Jimmy asks. No, it's Chloe. He's holding a giant pitcher of juice that must have taken about 500 oranges to produce. "Look at this," Chloe says, not exactly thrilled. She tells Jimmy that she's late for something and actually has to bail. Now, that's pretty rude. She could sit down for two minutes and wolf down a piece of toast, at least. Jimmy, still not completely crushed yet, tells her she can't start her day without the "Wholesome Olsen." If that's a reference to your all-natural breakfast sausage link, we'll pass. Jimmy offers an egg-white omelet, whole-grain pancakes and something that looks like butter, but isn't. You know, Jimmy, you live upstairs from a coffee shop and café. You could have saved yourself a whole lot of trouble and mess. Jimmy tells her that she can't reheat this stuff: it's never as good the second time around. How about reheating something for seven seasons? How does that taste? Chloe gets Jimmy's subtext and says, "It isn't, is it?" Chloe apologizes for getting home so late the night before. Jimmy says he's not trying to start any "wildfires" here (just a giant pancake batter avalanche), but that he's trying really hard to put the spark back in their relationship. "And you don't think I've been trying," Chloe says sullenly, interrupting him. She's already packing her things to go. She says it's going to take some more time to bring the embers back to life. Jimmy says confidently that they could do a cartwheel through a fountain of gasoline and come out fine. Wait, what are we talking about again? Gas? Fire? OH MY GOD, JIMMY LEFT THE GAS ON IN THE STOVE! RUUUUUN! Chloe doesn't seem so confident about the relationship. Jimmy asks if she's not feeling this anymore. Hey, man, she turned down fresh orange juice and pancakes. What the fuck do you think? She's probably going to grab some muffins downstairs on her way out. Chloe doesn't answer right away and shakes her head no. She makes excuses: working to help at the Isis Foundation, dealing with meteor-infected people and moving into the office. She's moving in to the Isis office? That seems a little weird. Chloe stops her train of thought and offers to take Jimmy to lunch. She promises. They're both commuting from Smallville to Metropolis every day just to live in an apartment owned by Lex? That seems a little dumb. Where does Jimmy live, anyway? Jimmy agrees to lunch. Chloe takes off. "Bye," he says sadly, after she's gone. More breakfast for Jimmy! And some alone time with the all-natural sausage.