It’s been a rough afternoon for young Clark Kent, secret teenage king of the sky. First he got left behind after football practice, and then he met the love of his life, who it turns out is nine years old and currently heading east on the Kansas Star. Now he’s getting advice from his foster father in a lengthy one-take walk-and-talk, all the way up the front drive.
“I mean, every time I get the football, I can make a touchdown,” Clark says.
“That’s for sure,” his father nods.
“I mean, is it showing off, if somebody’s doing the things he’s capable of doing?” Clark asks. “Is a bird showing off when it flies?”
“No, no,” Jonathan shakes his head. He’s got about sixty percent of an answer to that question, and he’s going to bluff his way through the rest of it in real time. It’s called parenting.
“Now, you listen to me,” he says. “When you first came to us, we thought that people would come and take you away, because — when they found out, y’know, the things you could do? That worried us a lot.” He sighs. “Then a man gets older, and he thinks very differently, and things get very clear. And there’s one thing I do know, son — and that is, you are here for a reason. I don’t know whose reason — whatever the reason is, y’know? Maybe it’s because… well… I don’t know, it’s…” He trails off. “But I do know one thing: it’s not to score touchdowns.”
“Well, okay,” Clark shrugs, “but could I just score a few touchdowns while I’m waiting for whatever the hell you’re talking about?”