Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

To live in a violent, hellish dystopia.
You got your shotguns, your long guns.
...as kryptonite.
Not what I was hoping for, but I guess it's a start.
There she is.
Nothing like buttermilk for what ails you.
- It's my card, remember? - No, I don't.
Wait. I know you.
Well, he must've wanted to look around.
Utopia was founded by Superman's descendants.
See if they got any gold in this here town.
You see, the 22nd century is a peaceful, harmonious utopia.
Or I'm really H.G. Wells.
Hand it over. Come on. Come on.
Excuse me, folks. Martha.
I'm really sorry. It's just, you both look so young.
You too.
You're even a breakfast cereal.
...being galactically stupid.
Oh, quite, quite. Didn't I say? Fuel.
Well, now that you mention it, it does feel like we've done all this before.
- Me and Superman? - A world of peace.
- It's just, I'm not able to have children. - We can't.
Thanks, Mr. Makita. Could you get those tools on the way out, please?
It could take a few hours.
- Clark! - You were holding it for me.
It isn't my fault you used an inferior grade of gold.
Yeah, but there wasn't any Great Smallville Gold Robbery.
Clark Kent is Superman.
Must've been really hard all those years...
Unfortunately, we can't afford to buy all we need at current market prices...
...so why don't you answer one question for me: How can I ever trust you again?
Oh, no.
He... There's a volcano about to erupt in China.
...I don't know why you're going to Smallville, or why 1966?
- And they went to 1866. - And they needed gold.
Otherwise known...
You shouldn't photocopy with the lid up. How many fingers am I holding up?
Septembari 7, 1972
Excuse me. I'm H.G. Wells.
This is my husband, Jonathan.
Did you hear anything...
Perhaps by meeting my companion from the future?
...of technological understanding.