It's a sad statement on my mental health that messing with the minds of teenagers has become one of my favorite pasttimes.

But it's just such simple, easy fun that I can't help myself.

I saw Lana clutching her little note as soon as I entered the Talon, and curiosity got the best of me when she left it on the counter. She allowed me to read it, amidst some protest, saying I'd probably find it 'sappy' like Clark did.

And here I'd thought it was from Clark.

Instead, it was poetry. A bit amateurish, but the author had some potential. Lana seemed impressed, and, after a brief demonstration, I filled her in on a little known fact. Poetry is all about seduction.

Clark thankfully managed to stop Lana's slight trance by showing up, and she got in a well done dig about some people appreciating art.

I have to admit, sometimes, I'm almost fond of her.

Sometimes. Almost.

I decided to help out my business partner by goading Clark a little, myself. I told him it seemed the bar had been raised on the competition for Lana's affections, then departed.

The look on his face was priceless.

In fact, I relived it to cheer myself after round six hundred and ninety two (not counting early childhood) with my father.

He's been on the search for a new assistance since he decided to stay in Smallville. Apparently, my choices have not been adequate. Sure, all of them had ivy league educations, but they still failed to meet the 'criteria'.

I wonder if it's too early to start looking into retirement homes for the mentally disabled. All I'd need is for dad to go on one of his ancient history rants and I'm sure he'd be admitted in no time.

I must remember to look into that.

Especially now that my father has gone and hired Mrs. Kent as his assistant.

I tried to get him to divulge his agenda, but it proved fruitless. All I gained from the confrontation was yet another lecture on ancient myths. I did manage to impart a warning, I just have to hope that it doesn't serve as further encouragement.

Clark stopped by the next day to ask me to look into one of my father's many shady business dealings. I told him he might want to warn his mother about the dangers of working with Lionel Luthor, but he said his mom was excited, and could take care of herself.

I confessed to Clark that it stung a little, to see her name on my father's payroll after all the many offers I'd given to the Kents to ease their financial burdens. Clark confessed in turn that it hadn't exactly been an unanimous decision.

I left for the plant, wishing Clark had managed to tape that conversation between his parents for me.

I found out that while I'd been gone, another strange mutant-type had attempted to kill my father and Mrs. Kent. Clark and his mother had apparently worked together to save the old bastard and the kid trying to kill him.

I met up with my father later that day and he assured me he was in good health. Mrs. Kent came in not long after me, and had, apparently, managed to persuade my father to pay for the mutant kid's treatment. She said paying for his continued good health would be easier than recovering public relations.

True enough, but I'm surprised she got my father to agree so easily.

This could be very entertaining.

I just hope Mrs. Kent knows what she's doing.

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