ANNOUNCER: Escaping to Germany with a piece of the stolen kryptonite fragment which robs Superman of his strength, Dr. Teufel, a brilliant Nazi scientist, made his way to a secret cave in the Black Forest where several leading Nazis were preparing the hides.
Teufel told Professor Milch, a chemist, that if the kryptonite could be dissolved, the resultant solution, injected into the veins of one of their followers would create Atom Man--a human monster generating sufficient atomic energy to not only exterminate Superman but to bring the whole voracious and sad world deep into naked terror.
Dr. Teufel sent this human monster, a young German using the name Adam Miller, back to Metropolis where he was "educated" mainly in mixing metaphors in elbow grease. As his first assignment, he was to find and conquer Superman! Speaking almost perfect English, Miller secured a position as a reporter on the Daily Planet, and the blond Aryan wearing a leaded vest was introduced to a frankly unnerved Clark Kent.
In the presence of the kryptonite in Miller's blood, Kent became momentarily dazed and irrational: then that irrepressible gent, Kent, actually began to eat cotton! Believing that he was losing his mind, Lois Lane had Kent taken for observation to a mental institution, from where The Man of Steel escaped that evening. Returning to the seemingly deserted Planet office, he found Miller rifling Lois' drawers, and challenged him:
SUPERMAN: (UP, FADE IN) Having a good time, my friend?
MILLER: (OFF, WHEELING) Superman!
SUPERMAN: (SLIGHTLY OFF): Is that all you've got to say?
MILLER: (PAUSE) No! I'll have something more to say--in just a moment!… Let's see…"'She cocked her ear and heard only the silence'--muttered the rancher thickly."
ANNOUNCER: Quickly, Miller's hands dart into his jacket pockets, fumbling for the metal mesh gloves and electronic throat-converter that will transform him into deadly Atom Man. And unaware of his great danger, Superman stands in the doorway, arms akimbo, disdainful smile playing upon luscious lips.
STUDIO: TWO PAIR QUICK STEPS--ONE HIGH HEELS COMING IN
JIMMY OLSEN: (FAR OFF-APPROACHING) Gosh, I nearly walked into that loin stump… But honest, Miss Lane, our anthro prof, Joachim C. Fest, claimed that it's no coincidence that for years no-one has found his way into the top Nazi leadership who has a family or whose family life matches the image of national Socialist ideology. In countless and tirelessly presented metaphors, pictures, monuments, as well as in the amateurish but officially fostered "genuinely national poetry," the type is pictured as a heroic figure, preferably on his own land, gazing boldly into the rising sun or standing with legs apart as he offers his strong bare chest to the turbulent waves of life. This erect blond idol with the unmistakable aura of male sweat and nobility of soul is particular to all stylizations of national Socialist ideology, in whatever form.
LOIS LANE: (WEARY) Leaning against him is his tall, full-bosomed wife: she is doughty and valiant, but at the same time fervent, profound and gay amid the children to whom she tirelessly gives birth. (SUDDEN ANGER) YOU KNOW THE REALITY IS THEY'RE FUCKIN' BREEDING NAZIS RIGHT NOW, JIMMY BOY. By the mid 1930s centers were being set up to enable human stock breeding: SS men impregnate girls whose physical appearance qualifies them to come up with evidence of their Aryan blood traceable back to the Thirty Years War. Their parents, ancestors, ideals, loyalty, and devotion to the Fuhrer are also inquired into. Many are so fanaticized that they sign a declaration abjuring Christianity in favor of the new religion of blood. The SS children are to be the advanced guard of the race that is to populate the planet for a thousand years.
STUDIO: FOOTSTEPS, APPROACHING
PERRY WHITE: Poppycock!
JIMMY OLSEN: (RUSTLING PAPER) Jumping Jemima, chief! Just listen to this marriage advertisement from a German newspaper:
52-year-old, pure Aryan physician
fighter at Tannenberg, wishing to settle down,
desires
male offspring through civil marriage
with young, healthy virgin of pure Aryan stock, undemanding
suited to heavy work and thrifty,
with flat heels, without earrings, if possible without money.
No marriage brokers. Secrecy guaranteed.
PERRY WHITE: (PAUSE) Flat heels, huh? For fuck's sake!
LOIS LANE: I wish all my students were live wires like that wino Nancy Drew!
PERRY WHITE: Good Godfrey! Nancy…is she…"blotto?"
STUDIO: DOOR OPENS--DRAWER SLAMS
MILLER: (DIDACTIC) The woman who voluntarily renounces motherhood is a deserter! No foreign slave housemaids for her! Pas de tutti-fruti! (CERTAINLY NO GERMAN MOTHER'S CROSS FOR THAT SLUT!)
LOIS LANE: So that's why you're rifling through my drawers, Mr. Miller? Or is that a piston in your pantaloons?
MILLER: (CASUAL) I can't explain, Miss Lane. (TITTERS) a little poem! I missed my gold cigarette case at dinner and I thought I might have left it in your ratty old drawers which are right next to my robust coat of arms. This is my first day at the Planet, you know, and I must've mistaken your office for my indifference to your plight.
JIMMY OLSEN: Well, I'll be dinged!
PERRY WHITE and LOIS LANE: (SIMULTANEOUS, DISDAINFUL) We know. Sometimes it feels like you et the larkspur.
SUPERMAN: (THROUGH FILTER) Dang this strange weakness! It's the same as when you were in the presence of the kryptonite. Could Adam Miller be packing cotton?
LOIS: Are you ill again, Superman? WAIT!--"again?" That was Clark Kent who was ill…(EXCITED) Superman! Are you pissing cotton?!
SUPERMAN: (THROUGH FILTER) Wait! That ring on Lois' finger. Look at it! A green stone. Milky-green! Great scott! Perhaps it's--
PERRY WHITE: (RISING APOPLEXY AS HE WALKS AWAY) Great scott is my line, a-hole!
LOIS: Here--drink water, Superman!
JIMMY OLSON: (PAUSE) Is he swallowing?
LOIS: Not yet. We ought to have a doctor--hey look! He's starting to swallow!
JIMMY OLSEN: (TENTATIVE JOY) He is? I don't think he's coming yet!
LOIS: (IRRITATED) What use is your dried up, old egghead professor anyway, Jimmy?
JIMMY OLSON: Say tenderfoot, you're plumb loco! Why, didn't Professor Mc'Cock tell us all about Gerda Bormann, wife of Martin Bormann, whose imperturbable attachment to the person of the Fuhrer went hand in hand with a simple, literal, ideological seriousness open to every intellectual claim, no matter how unreasonable. "Oh Daddy," she once wrote Bormann, "every word which the Fuhrer said in the years of our hardest struggles is going round and round in my head again…Without knowing it, Luther wrote a real Nazi song! I'm worried about Charlemagne's responsibility for the introduction of Christianity and Jewry into Central Europe!"
LOIS LANE: (MUTTERS) Good thing we didn't step in it!
JIMMY OLSEN: When Bormann told her about his successful seduction of the actress "M," Gerda suggested that he bring M home with him, and that they work out a system of shift motherhood and finally "put all the children together in the house on the lake, and live together, and the wife who is not having the child will always be able to come and stay with you in Obersalzberg or Berlin."
LOIS LANE: (MIMICKING) "I'm only worried that you haven't given that poor girl a frightful shock with your imperious ways." Actually, Jimmy, that little menage sounds a lot like Simone de Beauvoir and Sartre's cunning arrangements. Not to mention like my own juicy one which I rarely even allow myself to fantasize about, featuring servile Clark Kent and studly Superman No fascists, us! Of course, we have no children either. (PAUSE) Say, Jimmy, did you ever notice how Clark is never around when you want to fuck him?
JIMMY OLSEN: Don't you mean when you want him to want to fuck you, Miss Lois?
LOIS LANE: Anywhoo, the point is we're all too complex for our own good. Except for Sally Superman--so where is that heavenly hunk? Seems to have whisked himself away (THOUGHTFUL) … sans erectionne, I wonder?
JIMMY OLSEN: DREAMY!
LOIS LANE: I bet your precious old McCock doesn't know that Bormann is currently conspiring with Himmler so that German soldiers can have more than one wife, because women "cannot receive their children from the Holy Ghost, but only from those German men who are still left." The first wife would be titled "Domina," and more wives would be bestowed on holders of the German Cross in gold as well as the Knight's Cross. Recently, magnanimously extending to holders of the Iron Cross as well as those holding the silver and gold close-combat bar. After all, Hitler always says, "The greatest fighter is entitled to the most beautiful woman."
JIMMY OLSEN: (INDIGNANT) Naturally, it's absolutely impossible for any Aryan broad to get an abortion nowadays while being totally mandatory for pregnant Jewish prisoners.
MILLER: Before leaving, I just want to say in my own defense that my teachers made me do it! They were all deeply anti-Semitic and Germanic high culture was clearly a reflection of their own vicious prejudices.
LOIS LANE: See, Olsen, I told you it's all the fault of those feshugenah intellectuals! That's why we need Superman to not think for us!
MILLER: Hop my paw, little missy!
LOIS LANE: I listen to you?
JIMMY OLSEN: Nonsense! The Fascists and Nazis succeeded in large part because they echoed the voices and interests not of a handful of conservative intellectuals, but of aristocratic landowners, military leaders, reactionary industrialists, small shopkeepers, and small-holding peasantry.
MILLER: However, that is not to underestimate the fatal German concept of education which excluded politics, and made it the despised business of dubious characters or a matter for 'strong men.' It was an idea which compensated for lack of civil liberty by a retreat to 'inner freedom' and cultivated both a misguided political abstinence and a political consciousness saturated with heroic concepts. It understood the state not as a system of checks and balances for the protection of individual liberties but as an absolute quantity with extensive claims to submission, as a sacred entity--
LOIS LANE: (DRIPPING)--yeah, a hard cock.
MILLER: These and many other intellectual circumstances helped to create a long and wretched tradition of whole generations of university teachers, literary pseudo-prophets and presidents of nationalist societies in which hostility to reason, brutalization of life and corruption of ethical standards required only to be crystallized in a genocidal political outlook in order to--
LOIS LANE: Yaddah, yaddah! (GRANDLY) He who can't spell history is doomed to misspell it!
ANNOUNCER: (AT WIT'S END) Atom Man slips into the dark woods and begins working his way toward the huge reservoir--poised like a giant spittoon above Metropolis. Can anyone--or anything--top him now(!) this man in whose very blood runs the deadly atomic energy of kryptonite? The Man of Steel makes his most desperate challenge in the next episode of THE ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN!
THE ATOM MAN-EPISODE L830
ANNOUNCER: Using Jimmy Olsen as bait, Adam Miller, in whose veins flows deadly atomic energy, lured Superman to a lonely beach far from Metropolis with additional promises of far-reaching dudes. Wearing meshed metal gloves, Miller touched the switch at his throat; from his fingers purred a stream of terrible atomic power! After a titanic battle, Superman fell unconscious, and the Atom man, joined by Der Teufel, the half-mad fugitive Nazi scientist who plans to rule the world, prepared for tit-i-llation.
Meanwhile, escaping from the shack where he had been held prisoner, a slim-hipped yet horny Jimmy raced back through the lilac bush in search of help--and as we continue now, he has come to a small queering, in which stands the rough hut of a randy rabbit-trapper. Pantingly, he pounds on the door:
STUDIO: POUNDING ON DOOR.
TOM: (RABBITER) (MUFFLED) Take it easy. I'm a' comin'
STUDIO: DOOR OPENS.
TOM: What's the rush, son?
JIMMY OLSEN: (PANTING) Excuse me. I-I'm Jim Olsen.--Can I--use your phone?
TOM: I haven't got a phone out here. (CHUCKLES) Now, what would I do with a phone?
JIMMY OLSEN: (GROAN) Oh golly, what'll I do? I'm about as welcome here as two snowballs in Hades!
ANNOUNCER: His hair standing on end, Jimmy Olsen wheels like a frightened deer and plunges back into the bush--his eyes wide with the horror of what he has seen. Onward, he races--tripping-falling--picking himself up and plunging on through the forest filled with that awesome rumbling. (PAUSE) Tom's tanned face takes on a look of deep concern.
TOM: (SHOUTING) Now listen, young fellow, just try to calm yourself down. You're jittery and keyed up--like most of those city folk. You can send a message with my muffins--it'll give all those damn fidgety hands of yours something to do. (DIGNIFIED) So just get on the grub line, hombre, and shut your hole!
JIMMY OLSEN: (INSULTED) WELL! I'm going to tell Superman!… Say, aren't you in my anthro class?
TOM: Yeah, he's got a big house and everything.
JIMMY OLSEN: Say, isn't your name Adam Smith? Or Henry Miller? (VAGUELY SUSPICIOUS) Or A-tom Bomb Man, something or other…
TOM: It's just plain Tom, dude, as in cat. Everyone knows that!
JIMMY OLSEN: Whatever, punster dude. You know, I still can't comprehend the role of the intellectual in promoting fascism. And that banality of evil stuff-- how Dr. Moorcock is always saying the Nazis are mainly bureaucrats. But whatever happened to really virulent, carefully orchestrated anti-Semitism like the good ol' Crusades or Spanish Inquisition? I presume you know that Doc M'cock predicts that scholarly inquiry will reveal "the predominant type lacked even unmitigated criminality; he had preserved the petty bourgeois attitudes and impulses of his origin; his fanaticism as expressed in unthinking efficiency. Pedantic, with a murderous 'love of his job,' he always did only what he conceived as his duty, and, like Himmler or Hesse, was completely incapable of understanding his terrible reputation."
TOM: Yeah, I know all about how much they love their dogs and all that shit.
JIMMY OLSEN: (RECITING) "The daily practice of murder and almost tender family relationship, discussions of the technical improvement of the 'fuel capacity' of the incineration ovens and the almost legendary musical evenings by candlelight…"
TOM: Nothing wrong with my oars!
JIMMY OLSEN: Say, do you need a study partner, dude?
TOM: (ROARING) How's about a fuck buddy, son?
JIMMY OLSEN: (HASTILY) On January 7, 1932, Hitler's most famous speech was appealing to the elite of Germany's industrialists at Dusseldorf to expand the large sums they were contributing to his mounting campaign expenses. He assured the industrialists that rearmament on a vast scale would provide them markets, stop militant trade unionism, and end unemployment. Most important of all, perhaps, he told them that no matter what they might have heard, national socialism stood for the sacred property rights of private property. Only if these rights were honored, he insisted, could Germany gain the economic strength needed for a policy of iron determination abroad.
TOM: Too often scholars have stressed the ideological and political differences between old conservatives and new ultraconservatives but have failed to perceive how willing the respectable conservatives have been to trade these differences with their own ultra rightwing in order to prevent the victory of liberalism and the triumph of mass education.
JIMMY OLSEN: For land's sake!
TOM: (Tough luck some hombres have: you're pale clear as a gill!) Come this way--to the cellar. Hurry. There is a tunnel under the floor--I will show you. It will take us under the edge of the forest--to the hidden cave on the beach with its pay phone(SLURPING), half-naked cabana boys, and quite a gaunt iguana. Now that's what I call one hell of a piece of private property.
JIMMY OLSEN: That's what I'm talkin' about!
TOM: Come on, we've got things to do! Big things.
ANNOUNCER: CYCLONE BLOWED OVER--SHINDIG UNDER WAY AGAIN. As Jimmy Olsen is getting rimmed, a few miles away on the beach, the Atom Man, nipples blazing like diamonds, stands by impatiently as Tuefel bends over the limp, motionless figure of Superman. All about is a scene of chaos. Great trees ripped from the beach, branches of the sausage tree, split and blackened as if by lightning, lie all about in crazy smoked profusion; as usual, lots of luscious limbs akimbo.
The vast beach, from the gray sea to the edge of the forest, is gashed and torn into deep trenches and craters, almost as if it had sustained an artillery barrage. Finally, the Atom Man steps forward impatiently, again speaking in the "normal" voice of Adam Miller.
MILLER: (FADING IN) Well, Teufel--are you satisfied that he's dead?
DER TEUFEL: (COLDLY) He is not dead!
MILLER: He must be!
DER TEUFEL: I tell you he is not; his heart still beats. Very faintly, but it still beats.
MILLER: Impossible! That huge tree that lay across his legs--it's entirely denuded!
DER TEUFEL: But Superman still lives! (ANGER RISING) What must we do to kill him? What?
MILLER: I tell you he's dead. But if it'll make you feel any better, I'll turn on my converter again, and--
DER TEUFEL: Nein! You must not! The atomic energy in your blood can be exhausted. You have already consumed a great deal of it today, and you only have one more giant wad to shoot all over my exquisite face!
MILLER: But what if that isn't enough to make everyone in the world into a fetid mess of slobbering zombies, and I've exhausted the atomic power of the kryptonite?
DER TEUFEL: (ABSENTLY) In that case, there is always the Scarlet Widow. She has the other three pieces of kryptonite luggage.
MILLER: She has? The leatherette towel holder too?
DER TEUFEL: (ABSENTLY) Ja. She --(PAUSE) Ach!
ANNOUNCER: This is not the moment we've all been waiting for! Don't miss the next senselessly breathless exciting episode of Superman in which the sanguinary Scarlet Widow, who dreams of big-time escape into the Argentine, along with several other silly stock characters, will most certainly (not) make an appearance: Sydney the fat man who shakes with greedy laughter, Jito his ruthless "Oriental" houseboy whose slyness is rewarded with chocolates, and a nameless German prisoner who has just been brought in, a squat, slack-jawed man who seems ill at ease in his handsome frock coat and silk hat. What tomorrow's episode will reveal, however, are reassuringly explosive titanic battles enacted all around the damn dam guarding the great billion dollar reservoir in the hills above the city--the first sparks of jagged green lightning which leaped from his weirdly glowing hands, plowing an enormous crater--faster and faster the pale moon lighting his billowing red cape and shimmering on the various silvery waters of the vast, vivacious spittoon…(VOICE FADES TO DISGRUNTLED MUMBLING)
THE ATOM MAN EPISODE L836
ANNOUNCER: And now, manically, the great lightning leaps--ever lengthening--and is almost at the dam, when (BURST WIND AND SUSTAIN IT) Superman flashes upward from the deep waters of the reservoir, his costume and cake dripping, and rockets like a birthday bullet at the Atom Man! Later, his candles all blown out and left for dead on a lonely beach by Adam Miller, the Atom Man, Superman is brought to a country hospital, where he lays in a coma for many hours, his identity unknown. But the following morning, weak and dazed, he manages to make his way back to Lois Lane's chic flat, where he and Lois could only exchange strange words.
LOIS LANE: (IMITATES BETTE DAVIS) What a dump. Hey, what's that from? "What a dump!"
SUPERMAN: Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?! How would I know what…
LOIS LANE: Aw, come on! WHAT'S IT FROM, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE?
SUPERMAN: I haven't the faintest idea what…
LOIS LANE: Dumbbell! It's from some goddamn Bette Davis picture…Bette Davis gets peritonitis in the end…she's got this big black fright wig she wears all through the picture and she gets peritonitis, and she's married to Joseph Cornell or something…
SUPERMAN:…Somebody…
LOIS LANE: somebody…and she wants to go to Chicago all the time, 'cause she's in love with that sculptor with the scar…
SUPERMAN: Chicago! It's called Chicago.
LOIS LANE: Good grief! Don't you know anything? Chicago was a 'thirties musical, starring Miss Alice Faye. Don't you know anything?
SUPERMAN: Well, that was probably before my time…
STUDIO: TWO PAIR QUICK STEPS APPROACHING
TOM: (FROM A DISTANCE): No emotion either carries Himmler away or inhibits him. His very coldness is a negative element, not glacial, but bloodless: a man at freezing point. Yet his character, almost abstract in its colorless impersonality, gains a certain individuality from his eccentric views. With naïve certainty, Himmler considers himself the reincarnation of Heinrich 1, who had done battle with the Hungarians and Slavs. He recommends a breakfast of leeks and mineral water for his SS, will only have 12 people as guests at his table, following the example of the Royal Table of King Arthur, and is occasionally to be found in the company of high SS officers all staring fixedly into space in an attempt to compel a person in the next room to confess the truth by their "exercises in concentration."
JIMMY OLSEN: At least Perry White isn't into that--it's more exercises in perspiration! Like yesterday, he was ranting (FURIOUS MIMICKING WHITE MIMICKING JIMMY) "'He said! He said!' If you don't stop repeating that, I-I-I don't know what I'll do! (FADING) Now come on--both of you." (PAUSE) That reminds me. When we get to Lois', honey, pleeeease don't rant about Himmler. You know how she can get--like a small animal rustling around in a candy box.
STUDIO: DOORBELL CHIMES
LOIS LANE: (SHOUTING) Darlings! George, get them a drink. (DOOR SQUEAKS OPEN) What's that picture where Bette Davis comes home from a hard day at the grocery store, and…
JIMMY OLSEN: She works in a grocery store?
LOIS LANE: No silly, she's a housewife, she buys things…and she comes home with the groceries, and she walks into the modest living room of the modest cottage modest Joseph Cotton has set up for her in…
JIMMY OLSEN: Are they married?
LOIS LANE: Yes. They're married. To each other. Cluck! And she comes in, and she looks around, and she puts her groceries down, and she says, "What a dump!"
TOM: Himmler's peasant superstitions, naturally, after the fashion of the time, have pseudo-scientific trimmings. He has archaeological excavations carried out in search of the original pure Aryan race and studies made of the skulls of "Jewish-Bolshevik commisars" in order to arrive at a typological definition of the "sub-human."
JIMMY OLSEN: (STAGE WHISPER) Hon--eee!
SUPERMAN: Ha! I presume you know Hitler has begun negotiations for the resettlement of five million Dutch farmers in the conquered territories of the East. In the east, the Nazis neither expect nor want cooperation from the subject peoples. Poland and Russia are to have all vestiges of community life and national consciousness destroyed. Under the notorious Hans Frank, some of the policies have begun in Poland. Polish intellectuals, landlords, and political leaders are being slaughtered. Polish literature and even the language are to be obliterated. In Bohemia and Moravia, student leaders are shot, politically minded clergy exterminated, and the publication and study of Czech literature and history forbidden.
TOM: Only unskilled workers and peasant masses are to remain in the east--all higher tasks are to be reserved for the Nordics.
JIMMY OLSEN: See, that proves that intellectuals do have power.
TOM: You've got a valid point there, hon. But you've got to start drinking more and fantasizing less about Professor McCock! Didn't your analyst warn you?
JIMMY OLSEN: (POINTEDLY) If H.G. Wells hadn't broken his leg, he might still be clerking in a dry goods store.
SUPERMAN: Well, Herr Himmler seems to agree with you about brain power, Jimmy. He has just proposed the "Women's Academies of Wisdom and Culture" for superior type Aryan women who would be given "a good grounding in history," a knowledge of several languages, and--needless to say--special courses in cookery and housekeeping. The Exalted Woman's training would also include riding, swimming, car-driving, and pistol shooting.
LOIS LANE: (DISGUST) Quel improvement! Hitler's previous highest accolade for women--the German Mother's Cross--was awarded on August 12, his mother's birthday. A bronze cross is awarded for four to six children, silver for six to eight, and gold for eight or more. When wearing their decorations these women are entitled to the Hitler Youth Salute as well as to all sorts of privileges and special slave shipments of Eastern Europe housemaids.
TOM: (AGITATED) Jesus, even when Genghis Khan and the Mongol hordes conquered the world, they encouraged indigenous arts and crafts. Under them, Chinese theater flourished, Confucian and Tibetan Buddhist monks were employed, the construction of temples and monasteries encouraged. In Iran, the Mongol era witnessed an outpouring of great historical writings. Mongols funded medicine and astronomy throughout their domain, and promoted science and engineering. This included the extension of China's Grand Canal and the development of a sizable network of roads and postal stations.
STUDIO: FOOTSTEPS APPROACH, DOOR OPENS
JIMMY OLSEN: Chief!
PERRY WHITE: And how many times have I told you not to call me "chief," Olsen?
JIMMY OLSEN: Sorry, boss, sometimes I just like to slip it in.
SUPERMAN: (PEREMPTORY) Perry! Let's have lots of drinks!
TOM: (DEFIANTLY) For the so-called superior Aryan race, not even a Nazi Russian could be allowed to exist. As Erich Koch, the prime executor of this program put it, "If I find a Ukranian worthy of sitting at the same table with me, I must have him shot."
PERRY WHITE: Lighten up you big galoot, this is a shindig. I'd like to propose a toast to George and Martha's inauguration--long may they wave!
LOIS LANE: Here, here! To the mother and father of our beloved nation! ( CONFUSED) Or to the progenitors of the mighty Planet! Hail to Chief Perry "Whitey" White!
JIMMY OLSEN: Uber-mensches, uber alles! (Oops! What made me say that?)
STUDIO: SOUND OF CLINKING THEN SHATTERING GLASSES AND CURSING
PERRY WHITE: Now, now! Martha! George! The first Continental Congress asked me to present you with this ceremonial pewter wig, and lovely leatherette towel holder.
SUPERMAN: I get the joke, I've been to college like everybody else.
LOIS LANE: Martha been to college. Martha been to a convent when she were a little twig of a thing too. You know, when I married Martha, she was one of the richest widows in Virginia. She came with 150,000 acres of land and about 150 slaves. Not that I needed her money--I was already a huge real estate speculator. And I also had tenure, and her father's money or his hands were in my pockets, or wherever…
SUPERMAN: And I was an atheist. (UNCERTAIN) I still am.
LOIS LANE: Not an atheist, Martha…a pagan. The only true pagan on the eastern seaboard.
SUPERMAN: Tut, tut yourself…you old floozie!
JIMMY OLSEN: He's not a floozie…he can't be a floozie…you're a floozie. (GIGGLES) What am I saying?i
SUPERMAN: Now watch yourself!
JIMMY OLSEN: I'd like a nipper of brandy, please.
TOM: I think you've had enough now…
JIMMY OLSEN: I listen to you?
ANNOUNCER: To the surprise of everyone, Bess totally comes speeding up the driveway in her red roadster. They had assumed she was in the kitchen, sprawled out all over Miss Lois' bright yellow linoleum countertops. She and the other sparky teens enter the house and Bess jumps up and says excitedly, "I brought some meat with a tranquilizer in it." "You what?" George and Martha demand, tipsily. Bess explains that "he" could not come himself but had given her the chunk of raw meat with a tranquilizer pill imbedded in it like a reporter in a hawk. The others stare at her in amazement. Finally, Nancy Drew topples off the divan where she'd been tippling mightily, and titters, "That's wonderful, Bess. It was 'stinkin' thinkin.'
JIMMY OLSEN: (DIDACTIC) Cyclone blowed over--shindig under way again!
NANCY DREW: (HEARTFELT) Thanks, Superman, for saving the world! You did a wonderful job. Simply wonderful. We've had a recent report of what would have happened at the reservoir if not for you. (SHIVER) Every man, woman, child, and floozie in Metropolis would have been dead by now.
JIMMY OLSEN: We owe you more than we can ever repay, but we'd sure like to try. (SLURP)
TOM & LOIS LANE: (SIMULTANEOUS) YUM!
SUPERMAN: I'm sorry, "gentlemen," but the threat is far from over.
STUDIO: VOICE BEGINS SOFTLY SINGING, "WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF"
BESS: It isn't? (STARTLED) What do you mean?
LOIS LANE: (MYSTERIOUS) Who can tell which man's hands…are in which man's deep pockets?
SUPERMAN: I mean a terrible threat still remains--to me--and, oh yes, to you and to the entire world. Even as we drink, Adam Miller is busy building a deadly green ooozonator!
JIMMY OLSEN: (HYPNOTICALLY) Oo-zoo-zoo-nator.
LOIS LANE: A threat, Martha? Hunh? (HOPEFULLY)
SUPERMAN: Yes, when you die, George, I'm going to burn all but 2 of your letters--and historians will never ever know why. (CRESCENDO) Next, I'm going to plant a cherry tree! Right there in the old garbanzo bean!
LOIS LANE: You're going to get it, Martha.
SUPERMAN: Careful, baby…I'll rip you to pieces.
LOIS LANE: You aren't man enough…you haven't got the guts.
SUPERMAN: Total war?
END.
