ED’s Promo Shoot

as retold by RepairmanBob

(JG, KK, AM, MR and AoT are at the Daily Planet set.)
AM: I still say we should tell Tom about this.
KK: Spoil sport.
AM: I’m just saying –
JG: The hell with Tom! I think he worked with that miserable little cretin Whedon to ruin my promo.
AM: But Michael was the one –
MR: (Motions for AM to be quiet) Yeah, screw Tom!
(ED walks in, wearing a trench coat and fedora. She is followed by a group of young, attractive men in suits.)
AoT: Wait, are those my interns?
KK: Since when do we have male strippers on retainer?
JG: I have absolutely no problem with that.
KK: Agreed.
ED: Let’s get started, guys.
Camera Man: Got it, Ms. Durance.
(ED walks to the center of the set. The “reporters” walks around behind her.)
ED: (Looks at camera.) Everyone knows Lane is the best reporter at the Daily Planet.
AM: Bullshit!
Camera Man: Cut!
ED: Allison!
AM: It is bullshit!
ED: Stop ruining my promo!
AM: But –
KK: (smirking) If you can’t control yourself, you will have to go sit in the corner with Tom.
AM: (Grumbles)
ED: From the top! (Faces the camera.) Everyone knows Lane is the best reporter at the Daily Planet. (Sexy smile.) But I have a special headline for Clark Kent...
(The Pussycat Dolls song Don't Cha starts)

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?

(ED pulls open her trench coat, revealing a very, very small bikini.)
AM: Is that the globe from the top of the Daily Planet on her...
KK: More like globes, I think.
MR: I love geography.

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?

(ED starts to dance. The “reporters” remove their rip-off suits, and begin to gyrate around her)

Don't cha?
Don't cha?

KK: I am not sure if I should be insulted or not.
AM: Best reporter my ass.
(ED turns around)
JG: (while taking pictures) Speaking of asses, is something written on Erica’s?

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me?

AM: Sexiest…
MR: ... Lane…
KK: … ever.
(One of the dancers bumps into ED)
AoT: Did Erica’s bikini just… smudge?

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me?

(ED starts to jump around)
MR: It’s body paint! She followed Mr. Whedon’s directions! (MR’s head begins to bob, following the movement of ED… attributes.)
KK: (Smacks MR in the back of the head)
AM + AoT: Thank you.

Don't cha?
Don't cha?

(ED faces the camera, surrounded by the dancers.)
ED: Don't cha miss Smallville, Thursdays on the –
Unknown voice: The talent known as Erica Durance will reveal her character's true identity!
(From the walkway above the stage, JW and a cloaked lackey look down.)
Cloaked Lackey: The talent will stop pretending Lane is human!
JG: (Drops his camera) You! You are the vile little shit who ruined my commercial!
ED: All of you shut up!
KK: How did he get a minion? I want a minion!
AoT: I will break you in two! (JG and AoT run to a ladder leading up to the walkway.)
(JW and CL start pouring buckets of green paint down onto ED and her dancers. The dancers slip and fall to the ground in a paint-covered pile around ED.)
ED: No! This is not fair! I worked for weeks to get their choreography just right!
KK: Not the pretty dancers!
MR: Erica looks like a sexy naked alien! It’s like the sexiest Star Trek episode ever!
(BK bursts in from a side door, holding a massive supper soaker.)
BK: I have you now, fiend! Mindless plots and sisters three / Back to the pit I banish thee! (BK fires the super soaker, which just misses JW… hitting AoT and JG, knocking them off the ladder and back to the floor.)
JG: What is this crap? I smell like raw sewage!
AM: Time to go?
KK: Way ahead of you.
ED: Stop fucking up my perfect promo!
(AoT charges BK, only to smash into AM and KK, who were running towards the door.)
AM: Oh God, Annette! You smell like diapers and wet dog!
KK: I think I’m going to be sick. (Starts gagging)
BK: You will not get away with this, demon! I will drive you from this studio, and take my rightful place as the visionary leader Smallville needs! (Runs off)
CL: Mr. Whedon will bring his massive intellect and unrivaled imagination to the show known as Smallville! The talent will acknowledge his greatness! (CL and JW scurry away)
ED: (Standing in the middle of the now trashed Daily Planet set, begins to cry) My beautiful commercial! It’s ruined! Ruined!
MR: Well, at least you look hot.
ED: Fuck you, Michael! (Stomps off, slips and lands on her ass)
TW: (Kicks in a door) Who the hell authorized spending half the catering budget for the month on male strippers? I told you, we cannot afford… (looks around) What the fuck happened here?
MR: (Shrugs)

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