Note: This section contains a few spoilers for the episode "Perry".


Step Two: Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

Perry sat on the bus, trying to ignore the faint shaking of his hands. God, he wanted a drink. Well, it was a good thing he was on a bus and didn't have his flask anymore. He didn't know if his new resolve would hold up to temptation.

To distract himself from the incessant craving, he thought back to the events of the last few days. He'd gone to Smallville, Kansas, looking for some more filler for his current employer, the tabloid TV show "X-Styles." Why Smallville? It seemed a good a place as any, and there were an impressive number of internet hits for Smallville when he referenced "paranormal", "weird", and "alien". It was all about filling up his forty-five minutes of show time with the least amount of work possible.

He knew he'd hit the mother lode when he went into the Smallville High School newspaper office and saw the bulletin board. Licking his lips, he figured he could get at least two or three weeks out of this! The editor of the high school paper, the Torch, wrote her articles with a surprising clarity, and she was the one who'd put up all the clippings.

"It's called the Wall of Weird," she told Perry, before introducing herself as Chloe Sullivan.

Then, doing what he did best, he'd managed to insult her by suggesting she made it all up. No matter; she got her revenge, and twisted the knife, by recognizing his name.

"Perry White?"

"Yes?" he'd responded uncertainly.

"You were once the kind of reporter that I want to be." Once.

That hurt.

He'd shrugged off the hurt with alcohol, numbing himself as he usually did. After a few (or maybe five or six) drinks, he could make that nagging voice down deep inside go to sleep.

But he still needed a story. And he thought he'd found one.

Clark Kent. The kid was Johnny-on-the-spot. And there was something seriously freaky about him. How else could he have ignored downed power lines, ripped a car door off its hinges, and vanished into thin air? In fact, how had he appeared out of thin air just after a tractor had fallen from the sky, right next to Perry?

Perry had done a little research and found, to his interest, that Clark Kent seemed to have some sort of hero complex. He was in a ton of police reports as a bystander, or witness, or participant. And the crimes and the criminals were…weird.

They didn't call Perry the "pit bull" for nothing. Long-ignored journalistic instincts went into overdrive. There was a big story here, he could feel it. But how could he get the evidence?

And so, (Perry cringed in shame now), he'd set up a situation. A fake suicide attempt, so that Clark would be forced to save him. And reveal his supposed superhuman powers. A jump off the bridge over Shuster's Gorge, with a rope tied around his leg so that Perry would be OK.

Except it hadn't worked out that way. The kid had tried to save him, and they'd both gone over the edge. Their combined weight exceeded the strength of Perry's rope, and it had broken. It was only by the grace of God that Clark's friends had another rope with them, and that they'd been able to throw it down to Clark before Perry's rope broke.

When they made it safely back to the bridge, Perry took a look at the bleeding rope burns on Clark Kent's palms. He looked away in shame. Obviously this kid was no superhuman. What had Perry done? Kent could have been killed. And Perry too.

He spent the rest of that night in his motel room, just thinking, staring into the darkness. Something like this made him realize how low he'd sunk. It was truly divine intervention that had saved him today, Perry thought. The old saying that "God looks after fools and drunks" had certainly proved true today.

That morning, Perry straightened. He showered and shaved, taking extra care. He'd been sloppy so many mornings, too hung over and shaky to do a proper job. He looked at himself in the mirror.

"It's a sign from God," he told himself quietly. Yep, God had given him a kick in the pants. It was time to get sober. He was going to Metropolis on the morning bus. Perry picked up the motel phone book and looked up Alcoholics Anonymous.

"Where are some meetings today in Metropolis?" he asked.