Lex Luthor sat at the desk in his cavernous study eyeing his surroundings, as the documents he'd been reading on the computer had lost his interest. That stained glass could use a good cleaning--have to speak to the housekeepers, he thought. His gaze fell on the row of crystal decanters. Those levels look bit low; have I really been drinking that much? Maybe it's time to cut a back a little. Suddenly the double doors flew open and an agitated-looking Clark Kent stormed in.

"Lex! You've really crossed the line this time. This is low, even for you," Clark shouted, his plaid flannel shirt rippling with anger.

"What's the matter, Clark?"

"Don't act like you don't know! You must've siphoned the gas out of my truck--it ran out halfway between the farm and Central Kansas. My god, Lex, I knew you were obsessed with me, but to stoop to such petty..."

"I had nothing to do with it, Clark. Are you positive you filled it up?"

Clark thought for a moment. "You know, come to think of it, I was going to stop for gas three days ago, but then I got distracted thinking about Lana and didn't. Huh--that must explain it. Say, can I have $2000? I can't tell you what it's for, but it's important." Lex wrote him a check; Clark pocketed it, said, "This changes nothing--we're still not friends," and left. As the doors swung shut, Lex poured himself a large scotch. He drank it down while staring moodily into the fireplace. Perhaps I should light a fire, he thought. But where's the firewood? Who do I tell to go and chop some? Not the security guards--Darius always hated doing it; I think that's why he turned against me. Maybe it's the gardener's job--yes, the gardener... Just then, his reverie was interrupted by another ill-humoured man bursting into the room.

"You blasted Luthors are all alike! I knew you were a bad egg right from the start, Lex!" Jonathan Kent radiated self-righteousness as he stood on the carpet pointing an accusing finger at Lex, who thought, "J'accuse!"

"Hello, Mr. Kent. How are you?"

"You know darned well how I am! Martha's been home late from the Talon every night this week, and I've had to make my own dinners, and they haven't been very tasty. Your attempts to disrupt this family are going to stop right now!"

"Mr. Kent, your wife practically runs the Talon these days; I have no hands-on involvement with it. Talk to her about why she's home late, not me. Now, how's the farm doing?" Lex knew what asking this question would lead to, but to his credit he did it anyway.

"Well, it hasn't been a bumper harvest for the crops, and the herd still hasn't come back to what it was before your toxic waste wiped it out, and..."

Lex tuned him out as he wrote another check. "Let me help you, Mr. Kent--no, please, I want to."

"Accept money from a Luthor? Never! Once you people get your hooks into a man..." Even as Jonathan Kent said this he was already folding the check and tucking in into his wallet, then strutting pridefully out the door.

"Tell Mrs. Kent my dad says hi," Lex called out after him. He noticed his glass was empty and refilled it with the last of the scotch. I know I should tell security not to let the Kents in anymore, but I just don't have the heart, he thought. Barging in here to yell at me seems to make them so good about themselves--who am I to take that away? He walked over to the pool table and mournfully rolled the cueball dwon to the end, thinking of how often he and Clark used to play, but that was a long time ago. The doors swung open for a third time and Lana Lang strode in, resplendently clad from head to toe in pink, and with a fetching gleam of anger in her lovely eyes.

"Lana, what a delightful surprise. To what do I owe the..."

"Save it, Lex. I'm tired of your lies. Very tired. " She yawned theatrically. "That's how tired I am of being lied to. But this time, this time..." She trailed off.

"Lana?"

"Oh, poop. Now I've forgotten what it was I was furious about. I ran into Mr. Kent in the hallway, and he told me I had just missed Clark, and there's something I have to accuse him of later today, and I started thinking about that."

"That's all right. I probably didn't do it, whatever it was you were mad about."

"I know you didn't." She smiled winningly. "You know, Lex, Met U's tuition fees are really eating into my savings, and Metropolis is an expensive city for a girl like me." She gave him an adorable look. He wrote her a check. She kissed him on the cheek and skipped away. He watched her go, and finished his drink. He felt a little light-headed. I shouldn't drink so much on any empty stomach--I ought to get someone to bring me a sandwich. Ham and swiss, maybe. Just then his phone buzzed and he went over to the desk and put it on speaker, cheerfully anticipating a business call to take his mind off things.

"This is Lex Luthor."

"Lex!" It was Clark, sounding as if he were in his truck. "How could you do this? I'm coming back to the mansion right now, and..." Lex hung up, suddenly experiencing a cold sweat. He picked up the phone again and took the unprecendented step of ordering security to keep all visitors out. He then unplugged the phone, and wandered over to the decanters. Bourbon, he decided, would do nicely right about now. He poured a large measure and sat on the leather couch by the cold ash-filled hearth. How did his life come to this? It was enough to make a man turn his back entirely on humanity. Maybe he'd call those scientists back, and give them the funding for that doomsday weapon they wanted to build. Why not?