Feliz Navidad

I remember Christmas. My family would all gather around the Christmas bush and exchange gifts. And I would weep tears of joy over wonderful gifts such as dead rats and mangos.

Now, we haven't had a real Christmas in quite some time, seeing as Alejandro and I have been on the run. So when I recieved an invitation for this Christmas party, I wasn't sure if I wanted to go. But I had a dream. My brother visited me and told me to celebrate, as it was good for my health. I argued for a bit, but when he threatened never to visit me again, I had no choice.

The decorations at the diner were nicer than any I had ever seen. But then, I haven't seen all that many. And such joy! There were two lovely Santa's spreading cheer and what looked like brain candy canes.

In the corner was a young man sobbing into his cocoa as the man called Bob wheeled away what looked like a gold statue of my sacrificial congress lamb. His sorrow gave me hope. Perhaps there was room for festivity and depression in the same room! I made my way over to him and asked what made him weep.
"Everything," he said. "Dying brothers, dead girlfriends, such is Peter,"

I gave him a tender pat on the shoulder. "My brother is dead too. Sylar killed him,"

"In the future with the bomb, Sylar killed my brother and used his image to dominate the world,"

"My brother died protecting me and I shunned him, leaving me with unspeakable guilt,"

"My brother became an alchoholic because I was hiding in Ireland. We both have lots of guilt,"

"I cry alot," I said.

"I bet I cry more. I cry for the metaphorically dying world,"

"When I cry black goo comes out and everybody around me dies,"

We were both silent for a moment. "That's so hot," He said finally. And like that were lost in a tangle of limbs and tears. It was a beautiful melding of sorrow and arousel. But almost as soon as it beagn it stopped. A man in horn rimmed glasses was spraying us with a very festive looking spray bottle.

"Thats enough. We don't want to give the children any ideas. Children meaning my little Claire Bear. She's very innocent, you know,"
Behind him, I saw a cheerleader throwing very angry glares at a woman shooting playful sparks at a young boy.

"I'm sorry!" I wailed. "I do nothing but destroy! Lives, innocence! I kill!" Overcome, I ran about the room groveling at as many people's feet as I possibly could. The man called Peter clapped and moaned in time. It was glorious.

Feliz Navidad, my friends! May your year be batter than mine!