T.J. White: Try to lighten up, Lana, huh? After a while, you might decide this is the real you.
Lana Lang: If Clark could see me now, I wouldn't hear the end of it.
T.J. White: What do you expect? Clark's idea of a radical fashion statement is a pair of socks that don't match.
Lana Lang: Well, at least he's not here with frizzed-out hair. I feel like such a dork.
T.J. White: We're not dorks. We're punks. And don't forget why we're here.
Lana Lang: Because somebody opened up his big mouth and promised the Shuster Herald a photo spread, about what goes on in the mysterious Black Flamingo.
T.J. White: Well, so who knew they'd make such a big deal out of three little words: "no cameras allowed." Who knew they had monster bouncers frisking people at the door? Who knew blue hair would make my scalp itch this much?
Lana Lang: You know, you ask a lot of questions.