50th Post Spectacular!

It seems that Mr. Bennet, Horn Rimmed Glasses, has neglected to arrive here at the Diner. One would speculate what reason could have possibly made such a paper enthusiast forget this grand event. Perhaps it was destiny that discarded the memory from his very mind. Or maybe he overslept.

Nonetheless, I am here, and being by far the most intellectual patron at Burnt Toast, with the possible exception of one, it appears to be my duty to "get this party started". Such crude terminology, yet the Chef of this establishment insisted upon it.

Here they are, the Burnt Toast Diner's Greatest Hits:

OMIGOD HES BACK AGAIN!!! by Zane Taylor.

The Ignorant Residents of Cyberville Who Maintain an Aura of Retardation by Yours Truly.

What is Love? by My Dreaded Destiny of Lard.

Waffles Make the Pain Go Away by Mr. Bennet.

Sorcery of Rice Cookers by D.L.

Stupid People by Mr. Muggles.

Tongue Typin' by Niki.

And there you have it! Now stick around for free waffles and coffee (Actually priced far above free). Mingle to your heart's content with the various patrons and enjoy a day of relaxation and caffeination, hopefully void of retardation.

im back lol

Haha, I'm back! I met with Sexy Sylar while I was gone, I remember what we were saying. he wuz liek toteiiy weird dood, im velly cunfused by hiz wurdz!1!1!!eleven!

sexy_sylar: Hi
Me: Hi
sexy_sylar: Hi
Me: Hi
sexy_sylar: Hi
Me: Hi
sexy_sylar: Bye
Me: Bye

Wow, that was short. Anyways, I can paint magic paintings, the energy man is moving around and stuff. That picture of Petey explody is always moving around and stuff. Maybe it's telling me that Pee Tar Pertely has mad dance skillz? You don't believe I can paint magic pictures? Hahaha, look at this then.



Fly man flew into my house and was looking at it. He was like "Ho ho ho, funny man. That's some painting you got there, looks like a gho ho host" and I say "Yeah, okay buddy."



Fly man: Well, I'm off! Have a nice day mystery sock!
Me: Get the !@#$%^&**&^%$#@#$%^&* back here you!

Anyways, I'm gone... bye... *whooooooooosh* (I'm super speeding away right now)

RIP Simone (and maybe Peter)

SIMONE! OH GOD SIMONE! I hated you so for going back to Isaac. But I hate you even more for dying on me!!! What were you thinking? You knew how devastating this would be for me! How could you do this to me?

If happiness were a mountain (I don't see those very often, I live on the plains), and my normal emotional state was a ditch on the side of the road, then the state I'm in now would the 9th level of Dante's Inferno (I'm like, so intellectually deep. I've gotta occupy my time somehow what with the lack of sex, drugs and alcohol)! This feeling is worse than any cumulonimbus I've ever encounted in my life. This is more like...smog! Los Angeles smog! Oh how metaphorical I am. I guess my self-loathing makes me that way.

Death. Sadness. Mourning. The only comparable feeling would be having one's nuts in a vice. A person who doesn't like nuts, that is, who doesn't want to make a mess with nutshells all over the place from nuts he wouldn't eat (nuts are kinda like meat. They have protein so I can't eat them. Would go against my vegetarian diet (I guess)).

The Los Angeles smog of mourning is overtaking me. My heart as shattered as an emo kid's teeth who gets punched in the face as a result of some clownbag hardcore dancing and punching air (that happened to me once. God why do hardcore dancers have to dance so violently when they could have just as enjoyable a time swaying to the music with melancholy?).



There is one thing, however, that eases my pain. And that's a rousing match of tennis. When helping people and nurses baby animals back to health doesn't work, the only thing that will is tennis. There's nothing like the rhythmic stroking of balls to get your mind off of things. This time, though, it didn't help.

Oh such depression I'm in! There was only one other time that tennis didn't make me feel better. And that was when one of my ex girlfriend's called me and told me she was leaving me to elope with her Latin lover, Ricardo right before I was going to start playing in the French Open. Here I am, pouting.

Why is it that Latinos are always stealing my women away from me? They're either eloping with them, or shooting them twice in the chest at close range. Why? Why must they be so cruel?

Well, I've got my set of rusty razors ready. I think I will slip into the sweet abyss of death. Wish me luck.

Sincerely,
Peter

P.S. Be sure to vote on your favorite Burnt Toast posts. Reading the top posts may be one thing that stops me from ending my miserable life. Email your top 5 choices to vote@burnttoastcafe.com

sylars homecoming!

omg ull never guess where im posting from!!! no its not mr glasses'ses laptop 4 once. im back at burnt toast! thats right. i had to get away from mohindy. he is so clingy! so i used my super speed to leave him at the motel n come visit texas. yes its confirmed i have super speed. u have this reputable source and my blog to prove it! newayz i guess the fact that i have super speed makes my silly cross-country adventure useless. but thats ok i had time (and people) 2 kill!

so ive been sitting here sipping my coffee and eating sum waffles (finally! i didnt get them the 1st time i wuz 2 busy eating brains). newayz ive grown 2 respect this place 2 much so i dont wanna cause a scene. so im eating these waffles instead of brainz. luckily i always bring my own jar of brainz for situations such as this! so i sneakily took sum out and sprinkled them on my waffles. mmmmm good!

wen dun with my meal i walked into the back. thats write, where i killed that silly waitress! oh the memories! but while i wuz back there remembering good times a waitress came into the room. she looked at me n remembered me. she new i wuz in the diner that day that charlie died n thought i did it! i had 2 think fast. good thing i have such an arsenal of pwrs at my disposal!!!


so i used my power of super hearing to better hear her accusory accusations of accusing! that didnt rly accomplish nething lol.

so i breathed underwater @ her! that didnt do nething. in fact i cudnt breath! i wuz like an ariel (the lil mermaid) out of water xcept i didnt haf a prince 2 luv! newayz i decided 2 stop using that power wut good is being an ariel out of wtr w/o a prince??

luckily i had 1 more trick up my sleeve. i drank a normally fatal amt of alcohol'ed her! hmm that didnt seem 2 werk! and now their were empty wine coolers evrywhere! wut a mess!

she wuz about 2 scream so i touched my finger 2 her lips! they totally liquified and melded 2gether. lol. omg that wud keep her quiet! hmmm but i cudnt reverse this pwr. whooops! the peeps here wud realize wut wuz wrong soon wen they saw a waitress w/ no lips! well i figured i might as well just kill her! i mean its just ONE brain itd be almost a crime not 2! so i did. n it wuz great. there were so many happy memories flowing thru my mind as i tore open her skull and feasted on her awsum brain! it wuz good. after that i went back 2 finish my meal n hear i am!

whoops! sum1s screaming! i guess they found her. ill be ending my post the same way i ended my first 1! running out of this place with brains all ovr my face! time 2 get myself back 2 mohindy! good thing i haf super speed i kin elude these peeps like wen i eluded mr glasses roadrunner style! toodles!

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Hi! This is the Chef once again. You know, nobody ever asks me to post on this thing. And it's my freakin' restaurant. Well, okay, not mine, but I pretty much manage it. Without me, those waffles wouldn't be the best in Texas. But it's no big deal. I don't want to post. All I want is for you people to vote. I ask for one simple thing, and only about a fourth of you bother to help out. But sure, this murderous cross-dresser says "omg i like luv waffles!" and you all rush out and buy my waffles. But here I am, the maker of the wonder-waffles, as Mohinder put it, and you ignore me! I have feelings you know. And a family to support. I don't bother taking a percentage of the tips, even though it's my right. I figure the waitresses need it more than me. But gosh darn, when is it going to be Chef's turn? When do I get some respect? All I'm asking is that you send in your votes for Burnt Toast Diner's Greatest Hits! All you have to do is email your top 5 posts to vote@burnttoastcafe.com. Be sure you get the email right! It's simple. So simple, even a Sylar victim could do it. You got a brain right?

Kinda stuck here

I gotta go jogging or something. I can't just sit here eating waffles all day, even as yummy as they are. It seems like nearly everyone is elsewhere. Sylar and Mohinder are off on a road trip and Lana's waiting for them back in New York. Mr. Bennet has stopped by. I wonder if he'll teach me Canasta. That would be cool, as long as I don't start seeing stuff or get "collected". I'm wondering where Claude has gotten to. I really hope that emo Peter guy doesn't totally depress him. I don't think he appreciates Claude's sage advice, or Claude either, for that matter. I haven't seen Mr. Muggles in the diner since I got here; I usually get on pretty well with dogs.


I've switched my look again. I didn't think I should Goth out again, not yet. At least now I don't look like a hippy, just kinda average with my baggy jeans and a t-shirt, and a hoodie. Of course I do have a Union Jack on my shirt, but it's not likely that anyone here at the moment is likely to notice that. *sigh* you have no idea how tempted I am to try glueing a 100 dollar bill to the underside of my table. The thought just occurred to me as I've been sitting here, and I recalled an old quote from somewhere "Don't leave me here or I'll do something evil like gluing things together." I can kinda see the appeal, now.



I dunno. Maybe I will go somewhere. I know Claude had left word he was worried about his birds, and whether Peter would take care of them. Perhaps I'll try and find them and care for them myself, as I figure Peter will be still whining.

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Hi! This is the Chef again. Send in your votes for Burnt Toast Diner's Greatest Hits!

My Only Friends

Currently, I am on the run from an "old friend". This friend and I have a long history together. Some bugger tipped him off to where I've been. If I ever find who did it, I am going to find the longest metal rod and stick it up their arse.

You know what? People Suck! That's right, they suck. They are born liars. Every single one of them. I know what you are thinking. "Claude, Not everyone is that bad" OK, How many people have ever told a lie? Unless your Jesus, God, Buddha, Mother Theresa, Queen (The Band) or Richard Nixon, You all have LIED. Hell, I lie. My whole bloody life is a LIE. We are just horrible people cursed to roam this ugly earth. We are also gassy people too. People just fart when they want to with no concern for others at all. No ones cares about other's personal space anymore.

My only true friends are my birds. My birds never lie, never cheat, never moan about themselves. In my past, one of my jobs was to work with birds as Guinea pigs for evolution. I would spend days just watching them and testing them. After a while, I would get bored and began to talk to them. Maybe it was the solitude of the job or the booze I drank but after a while, each bird started to show their personality. Clyde was the alpha male. He would attack all the other male birds and hit on all the females. Thanks to him, we had an over run of baby pigeons. Polly was a sweet thing who liked peanut butter. Every time I would bring a sandwich to work. She would get right up to me and try to eat it. At first, I thought she was an odd thing, but after awhile I would just fed her a bit of PB. Gabe was the retarded one who liked plastic bags. He would walk in and then get trapped in the bag. I would let him out and he would go right back in the bag. He made many drunk nights entertaining. I spent many nights making sure they were OK. My coworkers began to think I was a little off, but in reality, they were the ones that were off.

I hate to leave my pigeons but I have to leave this place. But I can't risk going back. I hope emo child feeds them. He seems to like little animals.

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Hi! This is the Chef, just making a quick announcement: Don't forget to Vote for Burnt Toast Diner's Greatest Hits!

Time to Vote!

Well, we've come a long way since we began this blog with a useless Commodore 64. Now, we're nearing 50 posts!

So, I think a celebration is in order. I talked to the Chef and on the 50th post, he's agreed to give everyone free* waffles!

So, be sure to stop by for post 50 and join the fun. To celebrate, we're going to be revealing our Burnt Toast Diner's Greatest Hits which will all be chosen by you!

We've had a lot of fun together and will continue to in 50 post intervals from now until probably around 2012 when diners will become obsolete and people will just download waffles off the internet.

Like I said, the Burnt Toast Diner's Greatest Hits will be chosen by you! How? Simple! Email vote@burnttoastcafe.com and list your top 5 posts from the Burnt Toast Diner Blog. Remember, that's burnttoastcafe.com, not diner. Since we're both, a cafe and a diner, we use the cafe for emails and the diner for blogging. Yes, it's confusing, but it's what makes the Burnt Toast Diner/Cafe great!

Hurry, get to emailing us so we can start counting. Don't leave this up to the Supreme Court to decide on. It's up to you!

*Bulk purchase of 50 or more waffles required

mr brainz ate my cousin. ;_;

Aside from the fact that I lost my digital camera and my webcam due to a tragic drunken bathtub incident the other night, I'm in good spirits, especially taking into consideration the fact that someone ATE MY LONG LOST SECOND COUSIN THREE TIMES REMOVED! (;_;) She was such a beautiful person on the inside (I'm sure someone can attest to that now since SOMEONE ATE HER. Gee, THANKS! At least I don't eat MY friends!...well, not all the time. But that's not the point! In fact, I'm not even sure if this parenthetical thingy has a point! I just like using exclamation points to demonstrate my anger!)

It's also now up to me to find a new male lead for the next show I'll be working on in NY. Y'know, it's not like we don't have a casting director. Well, we did. Brian Davis. But he was an ornery soul who disappeared several months ago. He was kind of nuts. Guy thought he could move things with his mind. Ah ha ha ha. Yeah, crazy. I think he just pulled a Hank. He's probably out there somewhere, carousing around in Las Vegas, making it big! That being said, it fell down to me to be the new casting director. I have no experience with this. There's a reason why I work in the little light booth up on the catwalk -- I don't like people. Why? Because people suck, friends, and the sooner you learn that, the better. They're almost as bad as pigeons, but at least pigeons fly away when you scare them.

So we're a few months away from opening, and I need to find a glorious male lead for our new show, Sweeney Todd. But I'm really having trouble figuring out who could play the role. It involves a lot of cutting people's heads (he is a barber, after all) and brains and gore to a certain extent. No, that's not Sweeney Todd in the picture, though I'm sure he'd look killer in a dress and a corset mashing up brains if he wanted to! But who could possibly fill that role? I hope I won't have to fly out to Montana or somewhere else in BFE to find the ideal person for it. Hmmm. I'll really have to think about this! Maybe I should do an open casting call. Or maybe fate will lead me to our next lead! I really don't know. Fate has a horrible tendency to lead me to the bottom of a mai-tai or a gin and tonic before it leads me anywhere else.

I had a real nice conversation with my mom and grandma a few days ago. Sometimes I think grandma's going a little nuts. This all happened before I discovered that someone decided that my long lost cousin's brain would make a tasty meal (you know who you are Sylar Zane NO DRESS FOR YOU!) Apparently Dale was a mail order bride from Vladivostok that Mohinder had ordered some months ago when he got signed up for some weird fan club. Anyways, Dale got a little disoriented by all the noises in NY and moved to Montana where it's a bit quieter. But then as destiny would have it, I discovered that we were related! I don't know how, but I felt this connection. Maybe it was because our last names were so very similar. Smither...Smith -- see? We're like totally related! I was really looking forward to being reunited with her, even though she was a complete stranger and probably didn't know I even existed. But I get my hopes up like that.

I think Dale realized that they were after her! She had to move where they wouldn't find her! So to outsmart them, she moved to Montana since no one lives there, and here's proof:



See? Conclusive proof that they would have no idea that she lived in Montana. Word to the wise, if you don't want them to find you, move to Montana and become an automechanic! Just be sure to keep your head. I wonder if they know that I'm in NY secretly plotting under their noses! They are very silly indeed! (And I really have no idea who they are. I just like to italicize my pronouns since it makes them look mysterious and ominous.)

Now I'm just waiting for Mohinder and someone to come back to NY since someone owes me a drinking contest. I got your drinks right here, man. That's nearly forty pounds of vodka right there! Direct from Russia! Good ol' Russkii Standart -- you know, the kind of vodka that'll put hair on your girly-man chest! 150 proof! Let's see your wine coolers beat that! I was drinking in the womb! I have 28 years of experience doing this, and a liver the size of, dare I say, MONTANA.

40 liquid pounds of stolen vodka right here! Don't make me drink this all on my own!



So come one, come all, and place your bets! Who will win this trial of inebriated fortitude?! I'll even sell tickets.

~Lana

PS: Someone better help me pay for all that vodka I had to loot or I'll sic the kittens of doom and destruction on them... They'll be in ur fridge, eatin ur brainz!

Road Trip!

Things haven't gone as planned! I wish I could blame them, but this may be one thing they didn't have a hand in.

Ted was driving!! And he passed Odessa! Now we're in Midland, but luckily they have good waffles here! So, it's a minor inconvenience, but nothing that will take my mind of the mission at hand!!

These waffles are good! Matt seems to be enjoying his!! Ted didn't get to eat because we're waiting on him to fix a flat. Since it was his little detour, he's responsible!!

I can't tell you what our mission is because they will be reading this. But it's a good one! The best mission I've had in a long time!!

We left LA about 18 hours ago! We would have been here sooner, but Matt got us into a bar room brawl at the Chuck E. Cheese in Phoenix! Luckily, I was able to use the fight as a distraction while I assassinated that manipulative rat that brainwashes our children with its mind-boggling arcade games and chemical-laced pizza!!

Matt ran into a little kid while ordering and accidently read his mind! That fat guy is a doody head! the kid thought about Matt.

Matt was furious. "Did you hear that?" he was asking us. It took him a while to realize it was all in his head! He's a mind-reader, duh!!

But Matt set off to get his revenge! However, he was seen by a parent who quickly pounced on him!! The gun went off and the place was in full panic mode!! Parents were punching kids! Kids were throwing pizzas!! Pizzas were punching parents!! It was crazy!!

But it gave me the opportunity I needed!! I dove into the ball pit and made my way covertly to Mr. Cheese!!



I lept from the pit o' balls and in one quick motion sliced the rat's neck with the little plastic knife they gave me at the counter.

And just as I suspected, it was a decoy! There was a young man wearing a disguise that looked just like Chuck himself!

I snapped the man's neck and we were on our way to Odessa!!

But then we wound up in Midland!!

a romantic day w/ mohindy

omg 2day i totally went on my 1st date w mohindy! well i guess it wuznt my 1st 1 but it will be the 1st 1 were i dont end up passing out from 3 drinks n eating sum1s brain! well...the 1st 1 were i dont pass out drunk at least im not so sure about the brian eating part thatll prolly still happen lol.

were here at the aquarium lookin 4 sum1 w specialness! i hope i kin find him. but even if we dont itll still be a good day. i cant understand a word mohindy says but who cares! his eyes like pearce my very soul! i just look at him and sigh like the hopeless skool girl i am. hopefully if im lucky i can like hold his hand by the end of the day. omg omg that wud be like soooooo awsum!

but b4 long mohinder led me to the guy on his daddys research. he wuz a scuba guy who fed the fishies! so newayz he jumped in a tank 2 show us his specialness. he tuk off his breathing stuff and wuz totally like breathing underwater. kewl! he put his stuff back in n got rdy 2 come out

it wuz mind trick time. i totally used my mind trick to move a shark, open its mouth totally shove scuba guy in there and close the sharkys mouth! CRUNCH. lol. he wuz dead meat. luckily the sharky bit on his tummy so only his intestines spilt out liek spagetti n his tastey brain wuz like unharmed!.

i used my mind trick to crack the tank and icky fish water spilled evrywere! yuck! it wuz prolly full of fish poo. mohindy fell and wuz swept away by it n i used the time to mind trick the scuba man out of the sharky pull his brain out n eat it real quick. mohindy got up n noticed my mouth full n the guys brain missing. i pulled out a half eaten chocolate bar n pointed to it. mohindy seems to buy it. phew! my ruse totally werked lol.

so i guess the date didnt really go as planned. mohindy wuz in 2 much shock 2 do ne hand holding :( but that iz ok i got anuther specialness wich i guess is the most important thing newayz! mohindys not goin newhere. n if he does ill like totally kill him lol! n i gotta look on the brite side. now that i kin breath underwater im halfway on my way to my dream! no not my dream 2 be special or a cooking show guy. i haf a lot of dreamz! no this dream is much bigger than those. this 1 iz my dream to b a mermaid! that wud be like sooo kewl lol! look how sexy i am



ps u guys shud think about joining my fan club! espec those of u who r special or haf tastey brains lol.

Ka-Ching!

Well, everyone, I went for that job interview -- though come to think of it, I don't really know why. The lil' man has started taking some responsibility and has started doing his part in providing for the fam. man, I 'm so proud fo that boy; taken after his old man, he has. Turns out he can talk to machines, so he's been "persuading" ATM machines to give him some cash. So...inventive! It's a beautiful thing, I tells ya. Just beautiful *sniff*

On top of that (no pun intended) the wifey's back home! God, I missed her so much. I know it's October and all, but the other day, when we touched, it was like it was Valentine's Day all over again. Anyway, I think even she has landed a job, because she's been sporting some expensive-looking attire lately. Meh...maybe it's just my imagination.

But I digress. The job interview. I gotta say, it went pretty good! I walked in, and picked out the manager due to his not-so-fancy two-piece suit. As I approached him, he looked up at me and -- get this -- he shrieks like a terrified schoolgirl! His eyes went all wide and he started sweating bullets. I looked around, thinking that John Cusack must have come in behind me or something. The manager starts blubbering, telling me that I could take anything I wanted, just as long as I didn't kill him.

Boy, it was my lucky day! I beamed, and told him I'd take a job, preferably a cook, and did he have any rice cookers? The manager's face went blank as he digested my demands. I must say, for some reason he looked incredibly relieved. Oh well, good news is I got a job! Unfortunately, not as cook, but as a bus-boy. Just as well; they didn't have any rice cookers in their kitchen. Bunch of primitive Neanderthals, I tells ya!

Hanging around...

So I arrive at the diner after my totally hip escape from Las Vegas and the Elvi, and I still look like Shaggy and Velma's lost kid, but whatever. I get a table in a quiet corner, at my request. There's already a cup of hot coffee there, but I'm not in the mood for coffee. That is fortunate, because, no sooner do I reach for the menu, when the coffee, mug, and all vanishes. Poof! I go back to looking at the menu and decide on some sweet tea and a large plate of plain waffles with maple syrup. I've only just put the menu down, when I notice the mug is back on the table and empty. It occurs to me, that, either I've found Claude or I'm sharing my table with a ghost. I'm OK with either, though, truth be told, I'd rather hang with Claude. I don't say anything aloud to my unseen guest, because, I figure, if it is Claude, the last thing he needs is someone else cramping his style.




After my food arrives, I glance around, but don't see anyone I've read or heard about online, as yet. I figure I'll wait until something happens or the place closes. At least there's no "Elvi" here, which is a plus. I eat about half my waffles, which are awesome, then pull out my lap top to go online. When I look back at the plate, the other half of my waffles are gone. It doesn't bug me, as I was done anyway. While I ponder this I think back to when I first realized I was special.


I was about 5, maybe 7, when I started having the strangest dreams. I didn't have many friends, at least no one I felt I could trust enough to talk to. More often than not, I'd talk to my stuffed animals. They were great listeners, but lousy for advice. I kept having this recurring dream about finding a rope in the garage to make a rope swing with. I decided to look for it and found it right where it was in my dream. The rope was about 50ft long. I coiled it up and took it with me as I climbed this close knit group of trees in my front yard. I climbed as high as I could and tied the rope tightly. I got back down lower and tied a loop at the bottom for a footrest and a stick about 3 1/2 to 4 feet up from that for a hand grip. I then tested my creation. The stick broke, my foot fell through the loop, which then tightened around my ankle. So there I was, hanging upside down, from a tree. It wasn't too bad. It would have been more fun if the rope hadn't been so tight around my ankle. I swung back and forth and started to see things. Then I blacked out. When I came to, I was lying on the ground. My shoe and sock had come off and the rope loop with them. I grabbed my footwear and put it back on. Two hours later, my mom took me shopping at a mall, and I found one store was selling this old deck of Tarot cards, cheaply. I used my allowance money to get them. What really got my attention was the "example" card the seller had left out; it was a person hanging upside down from a tree by his ankle...

Ninja Skills

I need some action. Playing mommy to the weenie and little miss house wife to the hubby's getting stale. I need something to do. Sure the moneys a plus, but that's not why I do the job, that's what I get for doing it. The real prize is the ruthless murders, that's where my interests lay. Sitting around washing dishes and packing lunch boxes just ain't my thing.

The first hit’s always the trickiest; at least it’s over and done with. Now, on to the real fun, the one reason I went into this dirty business to begin with! I get to kill a politician! But not just any lying scumbag, no, this one’s special. I get to kill a politician who sucks in the sack!

This can’t be done by just anyone, as Linderman knows. These tasks require a certain expertise in ninja skills. So I’m sticking to a strict plan God himself couldn’t deter me from.

An Inevitable Death

Stage 1:No more cover up.

I’ll pack a bag and leave silently in the night!

Stage 2: Kill a Cabby

Can’t risk taking a plane, looks like it’s time for a road trip.

Stage 3: China Town

How can you visit the big apple with out stopping for some Moo Shu pork?

Stage 4: NBC

No self respecting assassin plans her quick escape without first stopping by the Ninja Bicycle Company.

Stage 5: Seduce and Strike

Use the man’s fever for the flesh against him to get him alone.

Stage 6: A Little Somethin’ Somethin’

While his defenses are down, move in for the kill!

Stage 7: Slip into the Shadows

Dressed in black spandex from head to toe, I’ll fade into the night and onto my ninja bike.

Enjoy breathing while you still can Petrelli!

Rabies !!!

I love my Mommy. She and I would go everywhere together. She would take me shopping at the department store. Mommy would set me in the front of the cart while she would shop. The slaves of the store would stare at me like I was their God. Which I am, of course. I would sit there and look down upon all the lowly white trash, shopping with money they surely received from welfare (curse you, Franklin Delano Roosevelt!) During every shopping excursion, one of these peasants would stop Mommy and ask to lay their filthy hands on me. Part of me likes being worshipped, like some wealthy vassal doggie amidst a land of surfs. But in what twisted feudal system can such a creature lie its hands on the elite such as I?

It has been a rough time for Mommy lately. She's been forgetting things; she's lost her purse, her keys, even her retarded son! Well, being the perfect boy that I was, it always had to be me who would go find these things for Mommy. Shouldn't I be the one receiving the pampering? The nerve!

This continued for a while. Like a couple days ago, when Father came home early, he asked Mommy where Claire was. She had no clue! She was just walking around in a daze like some pretentious aristocrat on morphine. And she had just seen Claire moments ago! I was worried for my Mommy.

And without getting my usual 24 hours of attention, I was bored! So, while Father was upstairs, I elegantly pranced over to the computer. Such a device was not worthy of my graceful paws, but I needed to cause some michief to get someone to notice me! I found a hidden file on sister's computer, and "accidentaly" printed out her fake tickets and left the paper in the printer. Hmph! Maybe that would get someone to notice me. After I did my naughty deed, I went back to my chair and took a nap.

Father saw the tickets and confronted Mommy. Poor dear didn't remember that, either! She didn't know it was my stealthy doing, and of course Father wouldn't pay me any heed! He never does.

When Claire came home, she said "Hi" to all of us and went upstairs. Father followed her up there. I had to see the result of the trouble I'd caused so I followed him up there. He showed her the fake tickets, she was busted! I was laughing inside my cute little head. He ended up grounding her, and she was quite upset! I guess it is her time of the month.

The next day, Mommy was getting worse. Father, that cold hearted heathen, ignored her and went to work. Well, I had had enough of it, so I called Father's cell. I didn't say anything, I wanted his heart to race as he wondered whether something had happened to his "precious" family that he supposedly cared so dearly about. He certainly didn't care about me, the most important one! Regardless, he came straight home and found Mommy babbling like a fifteen year old child who'd grown up in a house full of lead paint. He took her to the hospital.

Hours later, Mommy came home and went right to bed. I was worreid about her, and decided to pay her a visit. Upon seeing my beautifully groomed fur, she began to wail like a promiscuous harpy! I was shock, so much so that I entered the devil child's room. It was not often I was seen in there, with it's unpleasant odiferous emanations.

Eventually, Mommy went back downstairs and began to cook. After hiding under the devil child's bed for a while, I decided to go and see her. When I made it down there, she started to scream again. This time, I held my ground with her. I just stood there, looking at her. I couldn't believe it, Mommy didn't know me! She even took to throwing things at me! I couldn't believe it! Had one struck me, my doggy show days would have been over! All the while, she was yelling "Rabies!" at me. Rabies? Please, I'm too pristine for such a cliched doggy disease.

Then all of a sudden, Claire came to my rescue! Thank God for her. She picked me up, and defended me from Mommy. I thought Mommy was supposed to always be at my side!

So, that's what going on with me right now. I am at my wits end. I love my Mommy so much, and I can't stand to see her like this. Father is no help, either. I sorta wished Sylar would have taken me with him. At least he would have been good to me. We would have been perfect for each other, as long as he could keep himself from eating my brain. That in itself is a 5 star meal.

What is Love?

So I'm kinda sad right now. I'm actually missing the nice southern California oasis that we seem to have run into in OH. I wonder if this had anything to do with why palm trees and sand popped up in the middle of Cleveland. I can also tilt the Earth -- okay, so I can't. But I do exert my own gravitational pull.

To help deal with my sadness, I decided to redecorate Mohinder's apartment. See, it's kind of a funny story how I ran across it, really. I set up a fake myspace account and started searching for him. When that didn't work, I started doing background checks -- you know, I want to make sure my future husband isn't some kind of weird brain-eating serial killer. When the background checks turned up nothing, I decided to check one last spot. The White Pages. Wow, I should have checked there first! But I've been feeling a bit...under the weather for the past few mornings in a row, thanks to partying all night with my friend Sam Adams. And Jack Daniels. Oh, and Jose Cuervo! Can't forget good ol' Jose. But that's beside the point. I finally located Mohinder's address.


I managed to get into his apartment since one of my good friends is a locksmith. Don't ask how I got these pictures. I'm not telling! My locksmith friend is also a plumber. That's Mohinder trying to kill my friend for scaring him. It was a joke, dude! He was seriously just trying to fix your sink. He just happened to know how to get past your locked door. And bug your phone. But only because I asked him to because I care about you so much. Shhhhh! Don't let Mohinder know I said that! Even though he'll probably read it. I hope he has a sense of humor!

I thought Mohinder's apartment looked a bit boring:



(I like the blue lighting a little more. The yellow lighting just...doesn't seem Mohinder enough. ^_^) But I mean, blah. A map. A desk. A rug. BOOOOOORING. So I took some creative license and someone's credit card and gave his apartment a complete makeover (with the help of Ty Pennington and Extreme Home Makeover, too. I had to make up a real sad sob story to get them to help, though!) I hope Mohinder'll be really surprised!

I'm going to hide out in Mohinder's newly-renovated apartment until he gets back from Virginia. I really hope that mr brainz doesn't try to make me too jealous. I mean, after all, he did help us paint part of Mohinder's apartment (before we got here, though. That silly Sylar, always sneaking around to paint on walls like a three year old on crack! Funny, funny.) Just remember the deal we had! If you even touch my Mohinder, you're not getting any pretty pink things from me, and that includes my chic pink thinking cap. Oh, and if any of you see Mohinder, tell him I have a pair of these waiting for him along with a new tub:


I love Valentine's Day! I love you all! Even Sylar and mr glasses. Oh, and maybe Claude. But only just a little. (^_^)

~Lana

A Solitary Walk Through The Forest (I'm So Alone)

Hey everybody. Name's Peter. Quite a few familiar names here, Isaac, Mohinder, Claude, Sylar (you bad, bad man!) and even cute little Claire. I'm sure you've all been wondering what's been going on with me, what with me being an exploding man and all, but that's not what I want...what I need...to talk about. I need to talk about my feelings. After all, without emotions, aren't we all just an empty void of flesh and blood? Maybe that's what we are, regardless.

I'm in the midst of hero training with my Yoda, Claude. He is not a very elegant Yoda. No, in fact I suspect he hasn't bathed in about ten years. Ever smell that waft of stink go by you without knowing where it came from? Well, it was probably Claude. He's invisible, see. But anyways, I had to get away, so I'm taking a walk through the forest. Alone. This walk is symbollic of my life. Rain starts to fall. Death. Gloom. Cumulonimbus. Such is Peter.

I just found out my girlfriend still has feelings for her ex. How she can continue to carry around such hurtful emotions is beyond me. Longing. Heartbreak. Addiction. Her feelings for that bum make me feel pain, something I'm all too familiar with. It seems every week I have a different girlfriend leaving me. I have a whole mix tape of songs to play about girlfriends leaving you when such a thing occurs! Anyways, I think I'm going to become straight edge. No more will I rely on such devices that alter my consciousness, that fool me into thinking I am happy. Depression. I am a lone bamboo tree hanging on the edge of a cliff with a single leaf on one of its otherwise bare branches.

Claude told me to let go of my emotions. Well, I think that is just silly. Sure, 95% of my life is suffering, unhappiness, and girlfriends leaving me. But the way I figure it, all this darkness in my life just makes the few happy parts that much better. Of course, those moments of fleeting happiness are only there to set me up for another fall, but still...hmmm....maybe he IS right.

Anyways, there IS one thing that makes me happy, that clears my head of thoughts of girlfriends leaving me. And that's helping people! Easing one's suffering, so they don't end up a hollow man like me, makes me feel...what's the word...good? Yes, I can feel "good." Helping people alleviates me from the pain, it is like the mouse who took the thorn out of the lion's paw. Except I wouldn't eat the mouse even if he didn't remove the thorn, because I couldn't do something so horrible to another living creature (I'm a vegetarian).

Speaking of living creatures, I came across an injured bunny rabbit in the forest. Their lives are so simple. How blessed it would be to live a life without complicated emotions. It is only about survival, not about trying to feel loved, not about trying to fill an endless void in your soul that can never be filled. It is because of this that I feel a connection with these little guys. I envy them. Their life is nothing but light, elation and sometimes I guess getting eaten, but of course there would be trade-offs.

Nursing the bunny rabbit back to health gave me one of the mentioned fleeting moments of happiness. But I'm sure once this walk ends and I start thinking about Simone again I will fall back into the depths of depression. Solitude. I am lying naked in a puddle of mud amidst darkness and falling rain that is drowning me. Or is it my sadness in which I am drowning?

Simone...oh God Simone don't leave me!!!

Sincerely,
Peter

Happy Ever After in the Market Place

...Or so I thought.

I went to work expecting to be cheered up by the fact we have a new prisoner, Jake. But Jake was disappointing.

I put a lot of effort into this prisoner. I researched Chinese people and found they they like sleeping on wood instead of matresses, so The Haitian and I built Jake some furniture.

I don't remember what kind of wood it was. It's supposed to be like a synthetic bamboo. Jake didn't complain, so I guess it works.

Sylar's old cell was looking nice. The Haitian and I did great work with the place. But Jake didn't seem to notice. He didn't complain, true, but he didn't compliment it either.

"Hello, Jake," I said as threatening as I could, "We're going to take you apart. See if we can't translate your genetic code."

Jake said, "Oh, that sounds fun."

"You know, you could be here for a long, long time."

"I'm sorry. I hope I'm not intruding?"

"Not with my friend here!" I laughed. "Oh, wait...what was that?"

"I just don't want to be a bother for you," he said, "and your friend."

It was clear he wasn't going to cooperate. Too bad Hank wasn't around. Hank had away layin' the smack down, as he referred to it.

"We'll see how you like it in there without lights," I said and nodded to The Haitian. He flipped off the light switch and the entire cell went dark.

This would surely crack him, I thought. Nobody could take my psychological games for long. Except for Sylar. He was always so good at the psychological warfare.

"Thanks," Jake said, "I feel like I'm back home in my village where we had no lights."

I left him alone with The Haitian while I came here for waffles. Eating my waffles, I remembered how Sylar almost had escaped when I left him alone. But Jake won't even try. He's so ungrateful.

*sigh*

It just isn't the same.

The Ignorant Residents of Cyberville who Maintain an Aura of Retardation Throughout the Computer World

What is this thing we call internet forums? Is it merely a tool for mass communication? Or is it the work of destiny, propelling us into the cyber abyss of elitist aristocracy and an unconstricted democracy of half-wit cretins?

I say that it is most definitely the latter. Is it not the very nature of anonymity to provide a feeling of faux security? Interacting inside this faceless reality, this cesspool of the unnamed undesirables, gives a false sense of barrier.

And so the imbeciles do not falter in their persistent plundering of a world ripe with intellectual potential. They massacre that potential, that hope, and stomp on it like a blind buffalo stomps on Indian (not like me) babies.

Yet who here among us can stop this? Is it possible to stop an unidentifiable movement of belligerent idiots? It can no more be stopped than a rabid Tibetan feline could quit its habit of maliciously mauling Mexican mimes. Such an act would be like stopping a radical wheat monkey from delousing its rectum. These routines are natural instinct, cognitively quashed into the deepest domain of our mechanical minds.

But slap these pitiful people and you will be righteously reprimanded by the pseudo-administrators of the jurisdictionless world. So, how can we rise to this calling, this destiny and stop the wave of ignorance that will surely flood our virtual village and drown its worthy residents? This I cannot answer. It is not my destiny. But perhaps it is yours.

Stupid People

Being me requires a lot of pampering. Each week, I have my spa treatment. First, I get a luxurious bath. The bather massages using the best rose soap. After that, they start to dry my fine, silky coat. Then they use the metal thingy that shoots out nice warm air. Next they move to my nails. They hold my paw out and clip each nail with the delicacy of a Venician gondolier. After they clip my nails, they buff the sharp edges off. They even rub my little paws too. I loved going to that place every week, until the other day.

First off, my usual bather was not there, and so I got stuck with the new person. She was an older woman with rough hands and a large frame. The Good Lord didn't bless her with good looks or a fully functional brain. She picked me up and basicaly threw me in the tub. The nerve of her! She turned on the water and it was lukewarm! Lukewarm! Can you believe it?

Then she poured too much soap on me. I looked like a small sheep with all those bubbles on me. She didn't even massage the soap into my award-winning pelt. Instead she used some bristle brush on me. It hurt like the dickens. Then she dumped cold water on me to get the bubbley soap off. Then when she got to drying me off, she used cold air! She really loved using cold air, like she took pleasure in my malnuritment. After I was dried off, It was time for my nails. She chopped off my nails like a sexually-unidentifiable flannel-clad lumber Jill hacks away at a redwood. She barely even buffed them. And of course she neglected to rub my paws. Usually, I feel so much better afterward, but I felt like ghetto trash. Heck, brain-eating Sylar could have done a better job.

Speaking of Sylar. I got to meet him! I was expecting him to dress to the nines, but he wore some ugly brown outfit. I didn't even realize it was him at first. I thought it was some retarded, paper-making hick that worked for dad.

He came in my house claiming that I had been wandering around outside. Sure, I was by the door, but I wouldn't dare to walk outside after that so-called "spa treatment". I felt like White Trash, but not the kind with a double wide, I'm talking "throw the fancy silverware at your brother (who's also your uncle) cuz he's being an idiot and licking the couch again" kind of White Trash.

Sylar walked talking to mommy. Then he came over and picked me up and I'm thinking Heck no your inbreed! Hey, hick, here's some advice: Lose the boots and try having an IQ for a week.

But when he pet me his hand were so soft and smelled so good!

Once he sat me down I heard him talk to Mommy. He said his name was Sylar and I was thinking, Hey, I know him! Then all of a sudden, he started to yell at Mommy and turned into a quite unpleasant guest.

I ran upstairs and hid under Claire's bed before things really got bad. You see, Mommy's not the sharpest block of cheese in the fridge. Let's hope she never faces off with two jars of mayonaise. Not only would she be outnumbered, but she'd be outwitted as well.

Hero Training

I have a bloody kid telling me that he's going to blow up New York and that I am the one that's supposed to help him. What a way to start your day huh? Peter has Empathic Mimicry. He is currently mimicking my invisibility. I really don't want some kid being able to see me do my work. I wanted to tell him to bloody sod off. But the more I got to think about it, I really don't want to die at all. So I guess I could teach him to control his powers.

My first lesson for him was to learn how work with invisibility. I found the perfect classroom for our lesson, an Irish Pub downtown. It was a small pub. Once you step in the door, a wave of cigarette smoke hits you immediately. This place was packed full of people because it was $2-drink night. We made our way through the crowd to the back of the bar. I told Peter I would pick out a person. He would need to go over to that person and take their driver's license. He asked me what happens after he gives me the licence. I told him while he is getting the next one I would give it back to the person. OK, I lied. I planed to keep the license and use it to go to their addresses. It saves me time because I would not have to follow them around all day. I could just stop by when I bloody feel like it and rob them blind.

Our first target was a woman sitting at the bar. She was about thirty years old. She was flirting with one of the young bartenders. Her purse sat open on the bar. It was child's play. Peter slowly walks though the crowd. When a person would look his way he would just stop like they could see him. After the fifth time, He realized none could really see him. Since he was taking so long, I picked up glass of beer. Peter walked to her left side. His hand was shaking. He reached into her purse like a scared child. He slowly pulled out her wallet while I was drinking my second glass. Once he got it out, he walked back over to me. "Here," he said in a whiny voice.

His second target was an older man sitting in a booth with a young woman. Peter's goal was to get BOTH wallets. When I told him this, he whined, "How do I get the man's wallet?"

All I said was, "Use your imagination". He worked over to them while I got my third and fourth glass of beer. He went over to the woman first and got the wallet out of her purse. Then Peter paused to think about how he could get the other wallet as I drank my fifth glass. After my sixth glass and a few shots, Peter finally made his move. The older man's back wasn't against the booth. Peter slowly slid his hand in that gap between the man's bum and the booth. Once he got a hold of the wallet, he slowly slid it out. He walked back to me with the two wallets.

"OK, I got the wallets. What now?" He asked.

"Alright puppy, You see the wanker punk dancing with that girl?" I said.

He nodded his head.

I followed with "Well, He is your next target."

"Are you drunk?" he asked.

"Nope, second hand smoke," I replied.

He started a speech that I wasn't really paying attention to. I heard words mentioned: morals, Not doing it, drunk, pointless.

"Well, I guess you really don't want my help. Go back to being the bomb," I answered back.

"OK, I'll do it," he said.

He began to walk to the dance floor as I had another shot. By that time I had lost track how much I had drank. Peter goes up to this 19 year punk. This boy was dancing with some girl. Behind this boy was another young business man dancing with some other hoochie. Peter slid in between the two chaps. He slid his hand in the young man's back pocket and got hold of his wallet. All of a sudden, the young man moved back and felt Peter's hand on his bum.

"Hey!" yelled the punk. Peter quickly dropped the wallet on the dance floor. The punk went up to the business man yelling about touching is bum and taking his wallet. The business man tried to walk away but the punk quickly grabbed him and threw the first punch. Next thing I knew, a big fight broke out.

Peter came running off the dance floor and out the door. I started to make my rounds looting while drinking shots. At some point, Peter came back in the pub. Then everything became blurry. The next morning, I find myself on Peter's couch with a Ninja Turtle sheet on me, beer in my hand, and cake on my face.

The Sorcery of Rice Cookers

Where did I go wrong? Where have I been for, like, the past twenty-something years?

Right. I was locked up like Akon.

Huh. Never realized it was so hard to make money without robbing people. I really took my old profession for granted. Now I'm all goody-two-shoes and broke as Hell. To make things worse, the wifey's a nut and in jail on who knows how many charges (my momma always told me to stay away from them White women...maybe I should have listened?), which means I have to take care of the lil' man all by myself.

Do you have any idea what that means?! Now I gotta cook and clean! ****!!!

Dammit. Here I am, sweeping floors and making bologna sandwiches for the lil' man. **** man, back in the day, when I wanted bologna sandwiches, me and the boys would go and rob this place called the Burnt Toast Diner. Place was great; nice music, good lighting, overall just a great atmosphere! That cook could make one helluva bologna sandwich, too. I have no idea how she did it; my sandwiches always end up looking like liquefied roadkill.

Oh, don't go and patronize me; before now the only time I would step foot inside a kitchen was to jack cleavers and steak knives for my man Warren; he had some sort of fetish....none of us really asked questions. I don't think any of us really wanted to know what that was all about. But I digress. Kitchens. They're crazy! Did you know that there are metal things that cook rice?! They're called "rice cookers". **** and here I am thinking that they were called "pots". But I'm thinking that they could do more than just rice, so I use them to make the bologna sandwiches.

Anyway, money is getting tight, so it's about time that I get a job. I figure that with all my new kitchen experience, plus being a familiar face, I should have no problem getting a job at the Burnt Toast Diner. I'm hoping for something high up, but if I end up being a bus-boy, it's all good. Wish me luck!

P.S. I've really been thinking about my past lately. I can't believe I did all those things!

I will eat waffles no more. ;_;

So I'm really really internet-hurt that Mohinder doesn't want to marry me be my friend. For that reason alone, I will eat waffles no more. My destiny left me, and he doesn't even know he's supposed to be my destiny. This makes Svetlana a sad Russian. Someone needs to buy me a beer to make me feel better, or

Why? Because rainbows are pretty. Especially if they flash and make you have seizures. I'm also kind of seriously disturbed that mr brainz wants me to paint his nails. I have this thing about my head being cut open. I sort of don't like it. I mean, yeah, I am masochist and all, but something about having my brain eaten just really doesn't sound appetizing. Though I suppose it would be appetizing if it were eaten, say, with waffles as an apperatif. But, alas, I hav