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Five-Minute "Tempest"

by Scooter

ex: You can't do that! Thousands of people will lose their jobs!
Lionel: You should have thought of that before you mouthed off.

Pete: All ready for tomorrow, Clark?
Clark: You bet. I've been waiting all year to go the prom with Lana.
Pete: Chloe. You're taking Chloe.
Clark: Who? Oh, right, right. Chloe. (pause) Are you sure I'm not taking Lana?
Pete: Look, I took Chloe to the last dance. It's your turn, dude.

Jonathan: The town is screwed, and it's all Lex's fault.
Martha: You say that about everything. Last week you blamed Lex for your lost toothbrush, a flat tire on the truck, and the greenhouse effect.
Jonathan: I'm telling you, reflected light from his big shiny head is the number one cause of ozone depletion.

Whitney: Here's a pretty picnic, Lana. By the way, I'm being written out of the show.
Lana: Uh huh. Mmmm, chili pie. I love chili pie.
Whitney: I have catch the Bus to Oblivion tomorrow night, right before the tornados hit.
Lana: That's nice. Ugh, ants got into the cornbread. I hate it when that happens.

Lex: I wonder what this octagonal disk is from.
Clark: Definitely not a spaceship, that's for sure.

Chloe: Now that my dad's lost his job at the plant, we're moving to Metropolis.
Clark: No kidding? Well, if you need to spend tomorrow night packing and stuff, I'll understand.
Chloe: And miss my chance to dance with the school's hottest freshman? No way.
Clark: You're going to dance with Lana? Wow, maybe I want to go after all.

Lex: I have a clever plan to save the plant. We're going to buy it back from my dad.
Plant Employees: Awesome. Let us know how that works out.
Lex: Um, you heard me say "we," right?

Clark: So, looks like Chloe's leaving Smallville.
Lana: That's funny. Whitney's leaving too.
Clark: Hmmmmm.
Lana: Hmmmmm.
Producers: Stop putting two and two together, you two.
Clark and Lana: Oh. Okay.

Clark: Every week it's the same. Drive fenceposts, toss hay bales. Drive fenceposts, toss hay bales. Have the writers ever *been* on a farm?
Pickup truck: KABLAMMO!
Clark: And what's with all the exploding cars? Dang it, that was favorite red flannel shirt, too. I'm already down to five closetfuls of them as it is.

Lex: My employees and I are buying you out of the plant.
Lionel: That's okay. I just bought all their souls. BWAHAHAHA-- I mean, the bank. I just bought the bank.
Lex: I think you were right the first time, Dad. When will you stop ruining my life?
Lionel: I don't have my day-timer with me. Let me get back to you on that.

Clark: My car blew up. I can't drive you to the dance.
Chloe: Fine, I'll drive.
Clark: Dang. I mean, great.
Chloe: Clark, you're not going to rush to the bus stop after Whitney's gone and profess your undying love to Lana, are you?
Clark: I swear to you, Chloe, that thought never even crossed my mind until now.

Roger Nixon: Hi, I'm a sleazy reporter. I saw that truck blow up with you in it.
Clark: Um, I was on the moon at the time. With Steve.
Lex: What's going on? Who are you, O stranger whom I've never met before?
Nixon: Er, right. I don't know you either, Lex.
Clark: Something funny is going on here.
Lex and Nixon: No it isn't.

Clark: A reporter saw me survive the truck blowing up.
Jonathan: Great. Any more good news?
Clark: Yes. Lex has a piece of the spaceship.
Jonathan: That was a rhetorical question.
Martha: Clark, don't worry. Just don't use your abilities and stay away from you-know-where.
Clark: No, where?
Martha: I was speaking in code in case the reporter has bugged the house.
Jonathan: Good thinking, because otherwise he'd find out about the spaceship.
Martha: Right. Whatever you do, stay away from the spaceship in the storm cellar.
Nixon's voice: (from the cookie jar) Sorry, where is it again?
Jonathan and Martha: The storm cellar!

Nixon: I know a secret about your friend Clark. If you're not interested, I'll tell your dad instead.
Lex: You're cheating me, Nixon. I think you're a crook.
Nixon: Am not.

Lex: Lying sucks. Do you ever lie to me, Clark?
Clark: No.

Whitney: We have the dance floor to ourselves, Lana, for one last romantic moment.
Lana: Sure. Ooo, pretty balloons!
Whitney: Before I go away forever, you know.
Lana: That's Clark, nice.

Clark: Wow, Chloe, is that really you? You actually look pretty for once!
Chloe: Excuse me while I stick you with the pin for your boutonniere.
Clark: Um, "Ouch!"

Clark: Sure is windy.
Whitney: Well, goodbye, everybody. Clark, I want you to take special care of Lana while I'm gone.
Clark: Now did you mean that with sexual innuendo, or without?
Whitney: Without.
Clark: Dang.

Lana: So, here's the bus stop. Don't take any wooden Indians.
Whitney: (sigh) Bye, Lana. Can I at least come back next year for a guest shot?
Lana: Over your dead body.
Whitney: Deal.

Nixon: Cool, a spaceship! And there's even a slot for the octagonal paperweight I swiped from Luthor.
Spaceship: Hey, I've been looking for that. Bye now! See you next season!
Nixon: Oops.

Clark: Guess we should dance.
Chloe: Isn't it weird that we're dancing to the theme song for our own show?
Clark: Yeah, almost as weird as me dancing with you instead of Lana.
Chloe: Excuse me while I step on your feet.
Clark: Um, "Hey, that hurt!"
Chloe: Darn tootin'.

Nixon: I want to expose your son to the world.
Jonathan: And I want to punch your face in.
Nixon: It appears we are at an impasse.

Lionel: You made a big mistake trying to buy me out of the Smallville plant, Lex.
Lex: And you made a big mistake visiting a hastily built McMansion during a category F5 tornado.
Lionel: Good point. Would you mind pulling this beam off me before I'm crushed to death?
Lex: Let me get back to you on that.

Tornado: ME HUNGRY.
Lana: Aaaiieeee!
Flying Monkey: Wheeeee!
Clark: Aha! I knew I shouldn't have been dancing with Chloe.
(Clark runs into the tornado at Super Speed)


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This fiver was originally published on June 21, 2005.

DISCLAIMER: A lot of stuff in here is copyrighted by Paramount Pictures. My intent isn't to infringe on that; I and those like me are just having a little fun in the universe Gene Roddenberry created. I don't think he'd mind.

All material © 2005, Mark Wilson.