If there is one thing that a paper salesman doesn’t learn in fifteen years of mostly loyal service, it’s how to sing. Obviously, when Sylar wanted us to form a boy band, I shook in my bright yellow shirt. It was time to call in some backup.
Unfortunately, my good friend and rapper-extraordinaire was viciously murdered by Sylar months ago. Sylar didn’t eat Hank’s brains, so he missed out on his power of mad skilz. There was only one person who could best Hank in a duel of rhyme-tastic wit: his friend and mentor, Randy Jackson. Though we’re only friends through Hank, the two of us are tight.
“Yo, B-Dawg, we tight.”
So, it was no surprise Randy agreed to help me put together my awesomely hip and totally cool boy band.
“First, dawg, we gots to have a panzy-ass that can smooth over the band’s rough edges.”
The Haitian paid a visit to Alfonso Ribeiro, better known as Carlton from The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, and we had our second band member.
“Then, dawg, its lots important we get a fly homeboy from the school of hard knocks.”
I was about to send The Haitian to MC Hammer’s house, but it was foreclosed on recently. Luckily, though, the flamboyant master of ceremonies miraculously slide-danced his way into my room.
Hammer’s back, where it’s at
He needs a job; you got one to give.
So kick it over here. Help a brother live.
Eh….seems he’s gotten rusty, but his dancing was superb, and having seen Alfonso’s talent, we’d need a man with a mind to rhyme and two hyped feet.
“Now what?” I asked my guru.
“Yo, dawg, lookin’ good. Lookin’ real good. But we gots one more opening. A quiet brother, ya know? Big, strong type. Mysterious. Keeps the ladies hollerin’, yo!”
I recognized the description from a classified ad I ran in the paper when we had an opening for The Haitian. “Looks like you’re our fourth,” I said to my number one crony.
“You got it now, dawg. Just gotta keep it real, yo!”
And with that, my new band set off to make one-hit-wonder history!
Now, singing may not be a paper salesman’s forte, but putting on a good light show is. As fog filled the stage, the colorful lighting kicked on. I stood silently, unmoving at center-stage.
MC Hammer danced his way across the stage chanting, “Hide yo children. Cover yo asses! Hide yo children. Cover yo asses!”
The Haitian and Alfonso came up on my sides and joined in on the chant. “Hide yo children. Cover yo asses!”
Then Alfonso broke rank with his high-pitched delivery of, “Who’s the man in the big sexy glasses?”
The Haitian and Hammer retorted, “Hide yo children. Cover yo asses!”
Again, Alfonso sang, “Who’s the man in the big sexy glasses?”
This continued for a few more measures, then darkness. The lights kicked back up and I begun my solo as the gang moved seductively behind me.
“Mr. Bennet’s my name,
We’re one and the same,
A man of mystery.
Some say I’m a nerd,
But I’ve got fly skills.
It could be inferred
That sometimes I kill.
One thing is certain,
I’m a freak-huntin’ fool.
And behind that curtain
Is a big Haitian tool.
He’ll hollow you out
And take everything
But try not to shout,
It’s just a mild sting.”
Alfonso shot out, “Who’s the man in the big sexy glasses?”
“Hide yo children. Cover yo asses!” The Haitian bellowed.
MC Hammer did the bump.
I sang out the next verse,
“My morals: questionable
You have been warned
Look out for large spectacles
With the rims horned
Primatech Paper Co
It’s just a front
From where we undergo
Our Hero hunt”
MC Hammer started over-doing his dancing. It was clear he was hogging the stage. I threw it over to Alfonso while I prepared a lethal dose of sodium thiopental.
“Try to understand him
He’s not that bad
Behind the horned rims
There’s a loving dad
Sylar wants to kill
His Miracle Grow girl
He can’t sit still
And let that spit unfurl
He’ll do what it takes
To protect his Claire Bear
He understands the stakes
Don’t expect him to play fair”
As MC Hammer spasmed to his end, I belted out my finale, the words echoed throughout the mansion.
“So let me proclaim
To the masses
Bennet’s my name
Horn Rimmed Glasses!”