I've discovered a whole new realm of rebellion. Of course, this came at the price of having to see my father not once, but twice within the time frame of a single week, but I think it all evens out in the end.

Certainly it's a lot less dangerous than Metropolis style rebellion. The odds are I won't need my stomach pumped because of a tricky business decision.

It started when my father's drones showed up for a meeting I'd cancelled a week ago, complaining about the quarterly report. I've only been in Smallville a couple weeks, so obviously the figures weren't going to be very impressive. That is, after all, the official reason for why I'm stuck here. To 'turn the plant around'. That can't happen overnight... and it didn't. We're operating at a 20% loss.

My father's solution? Cut twenty percent of the work force. Yes, that would help the numbers, but it's just so... simple. Not to mention out-dated. There are better ways of turning a profit than cutting down on workforce.

So I kicked out my father's favorite yes-men (after reminding Dominique of the intimate relationship I shared with his lovely sister). Not two days later, good ole Daddy rolls into town. I believe that was the first time he'd actually stepped into the Luthor Mansion since he'd had it shipped over from Scotland. And, of course, he complained. And I complained.

Normal families, I suspect, would have continued complaining until some kind of compromise could be worked out, or one of the parties caved in.

Dad wanted to fence for it.

As soon as he started in on his, 'you're ruled by your emotions, Lex' speech, I got angry. And he won. And no, I don't fail to see the humor in that.

Anyway, I went to the local coffee shop to try and decide which poor bastards should be the ones fired. Lana was there, waitressing. And not doing a very good job at it, considering I ordered a cappuccino and she served me some kind of milk shake. Lana wasn't the bright spot of the experience, however.

Clark showed up.

Clark showed up, saw me there, sat down, and started complaining about his father. Then he asked what I was doing.

It was the most casual, natural conversation I've had since arriving at Nowheresville, USA. Last time we'd spoken, there was still the slightest distance of two people who don't really know one another. I don't know where that distance went, but it was gone all the same.

Clark seems to have chosen football as a good way to rebel against his father. Football. How very... Smallville. The relaxed mood was dampened slightly when Lana showed up to proclaim her own familial defiance as a waitress.

I don't get the people of this town. I really don't.

All the same, at least they're both doing their own thing. I have to admit to some admiration, even if their methods completely baffle me. And I decided to use it as inspiration on a more important matter.

Screwing over my father, of course.

I managed to cut the twenty percent out of the budget, easily. He was not pleased.

I sure as hell was.

Who would've thought that outwitting him in business would have so much of an effect? I'm not too proud to admit that at least some of my more self-destructive tendencies in Metropolis was a pitiful attempt to gain attention. And it never worked.

This worked, brilliantly.

He actually flew out to Smallville, twice, in a single week. And while the first trip was abysmal, the second time around was quite satisfying.

I'm going to have to do this more often.

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