Poetry Contest 2 Results

The votes are in, a whopping 113 votes! (okay, who cheated?)

And we have some winners, some losers and some angry English teachers.

First place, with 25% of the vote (tied with the President's approval rating), a man who couldn't write his way out of a paper bag, especially if it contained jelly donuts...none other than...Detective Matthew Parkman! *cough*SympathyVote*cough*

Peotry is Hrad!

By Matt

I nveer lkied peotry
It mkaes my brian hrut
Is't nto maent fro me,
Lkie a tgiht shrit.

I cna tyr raelly hrad
But it awlays flais
Myabe I cloud do it
If I lreaned how to splel.

I geuss tahts why
My wfie lfet me
Taht and the fcat
She hda anohter man's bbay.

In second place is a man who writes poetry like normal people eat Big Macs, with heaving bouts of heart disease...Peter Petrelli!

Emo Angst

by Peter

My heart is as dark
As the deepest depths of a baboon's anus
I see death all around me
Mostly caused by Sylar's gayness

Saving the world, I've done it twice
I am FDR without the wheelchair
The impending doom was just plain nice
In comparison to losing my hair
The cut, the tragedy, caused such pain
Like a constipated loon, failing to poo in the rain
The tears flow, but for now, no more crying
Now to save my girlfriend, but is it just futile?
They all end up dying
Like a hooker in a hotel

To top it all off, my brother is dead
Denial, like with someone who gets hemorrhoids
I want to hug him once more, I want to snuggle in bed
Petrelli man-love is the only way to fill my void
The pain, the loss, my sanity will teeter
Death. Destruction. Dysphagia. Such is Peter

And finally, in third place...the loser among the winners (as opposed to Hana who is the loser among the losers)...he writes from the depth of his heart, about six feet under, Adam Monroe!

Reflections Flowering in the Abyss (haiku)

by Adam Monroe
Darkness surrounds me
Consuming spidery thoughts
Will this thought too leave? (Yeah)

People have always wanted
My looks, my charm, my flair, me
This is now a curse. (Really)

Lyle keeps ass-kissing
But he can not help, No more
Than can all others. (Help me!)

Alas! they’re almost
At the door. And I’m not just
Being dramatic. (Please)

Back, vile villainous
Creatures of the lonely night.
I am also cold. (...)

I can hear the dead people
Crawling through the soil
I think they want my box.

The poems were all very wonderful, especially my own. And that just goes to show you that many of the best works received less votes. As the great Stanislavsky said, "К сожалению, есть гораздо более плохой вкус во всем мире, чем пользы."

They Blowed Me Up!!

It's true! I predicted it too!!!!

Some of you may remember my investigative report on Xploding Xboxes. We all know that an Xbox is less of a gaming console and more a computer designed to network the entire world's secrets together in one mainframe to give The Company total control over your lives!!!

And it just so happened I was in that mainframe. What was I doing there?!?!?!? Fighting the bad guys! Spitting in the metaphorical face of product integration!!! Flirting with a hot cyber-dude named Richard Drucker!! Flirting for freedom!!

Then, for some crazy reason the mainframe identified me as a virus!! Me! A virus?!?!?! How insane!!!! I am no virus, I am the cure!

Here's a virus:



And here's me!:



Sure! There are similarities....we're both nice and fit, and okay, maybe I have a big head....but look how different we are!! I have no tail fibers!!!

There was no time to complain!! Chuck had already began downloading the Intersect into his head!!! And that meant that an explosion would soon follow!!!

"Let's get out of here!!!" I screamed at Drucker as he was about to propose to me.

We took off running, but ran into a firewall.

"Oh, no! A dead end," Drucker announced. As we turned around, I could see a large paper clip with eyes.

"Stand aside, Clippy!" I commanded.

"I can help. What are you trying to do?" it replied.

At first, I fell for its deception. "We need to get out of here," I answered.

"I can't let you do that, Dave," it replied and began triggering a defrag on us. Drucker and I managed to dodge the moving file clusters.

"Over here!" Drucker yelled. We jumped into a hidden folder.

"Where are we?" I said, looking around at all the naked women.

"It must be Bob's personal files..."

We quickly escaped onto the Desktop where a delightful game of Solitaire was happening. Drucker wanted to stay and watch, but I said, "We have to get out of here! It's going to blow!"

I grabbed his non-physical hand and jumped onto the floppy disk drive just as the mainframe exploded. It was a long shot, taking a chance on such outdated technology. I was never happier to see a three-inch floppy in my life.

Sit, And Let Maya Tell You a Tale...

Ever since Sybriel, or Slyar I suppose his real name is, shot me and my fellow foreigner revived me, I have made a home for myself in the sewers of New York. It is only fitting that I should live at the bottom of the world, as I am nothing but a parasite to those above. That and I don't have a green card. However, before I made NY my permanent residence, I traveled to that place in Mexico where the fallen angel stabbed my brother to death right before we made out. As expected, Alejandro's body was pretty gross by then, with little maggots crawling out of his eyes and such. I picked them away before removing all of his clothes and dragging him outside. I said our Hispanic prayer for the not so recently deceased and then, after a final kiss, I torched his body.

I forced myself to sit and watch his body burn, because someone as wretched as me deserves no less. And when the fire got out of control and devoured the shack like a raging tazmanian devil, I felt I must sit and watch that as well. The dwelling where I last made out with my brother and Sybriel. I mean Sybriel. Yes. I didn't make out with both of them on the same night... WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Anyway, after about 24 hours of watching memories burn, I tried to put the fire out. I stomped and blew, but alas, nothing worked. So as usual, I did the only thing I could think to do. I cried. My black goo killed the fire, as it had killed so many others. I scooped up Alejandro's ashes and put them in a urn that I found and decorated in the sewers.

I carried it back to New York with me and sat for quite some timebut on the way, I found a pretty lamp in the mouth of a dying rat. I stole it, just like i steal lives and transfered the remains.

I ran for miles, fearing that the rat might catch me and demand the lamp. But I made it to New York in one piece. There I sat, stroking my brother's remains as I had so often stroked him. And then, something out of one of my mother's stories happened. A mini transparent Alejandro came out! Glory! (And yes, my mother did sniff the little leaves growing in our back yard)

He was so shiny I wanted to touch him. But to my despair, my fingers slid right through him. "Oh Alejandro!" I cried. "Forgive meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!"

"Do not worry my little armadillo. I am here to guide you and make sure you don't kill yourself, as mother told me to. But for right now, you must sleep and try not to jostle the lamp. I'm a little busy,"

I nodded eagerly and I cuddled with the lamp for hours after Alejandro went back in. I'm so happy! But... do I have that right? I have killed so many and my mere presense is a threat to mankind. I do not deserve tha happiness that this magic lamp gives me! But I cannot throw him away, because that would mean Alejandro would not be able to gaurd me, as he was sent to do. Should my wickedness prevent one from fufilling their duty? Oh woe is me! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOEEEEEEEE WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!

Yay! A Blog Account!

OMG, yay!!! I finally have a blog account!! I've been wanting one forever. I totally had to convince Mommy Matt and Daddy Mohinder though...

"Daddy M-Dawg," I whined, using my totally cool nickname for Daddy Mohinder. "I really want a blog account!! All the other kids have them. Come on..."

"Molly, you would simply be much too vulnerable frolicking in cyber space with undesignated peoples," rambled Daddy Mohinder. "It is simply much too hazardous. I am sorry, Molly."

I can never figure out what he's saying. I grabbed a thesaurus and it took me a couple of minutes, but I finally realized that he had said no. So I snuck to the nearest Krispy Kreme and bought a dozen warm donuts. With my secret weapon in hand, I went back home and approached Mommy Matt, who was giving himself a pink pedicure.

"Mommy Matt, I want a blog account," I announced, glad that Mommy Matt always painted his toenails in private where Daddy Mohinder couldn't overhear us.

"Ask Daddy," Mommy Matt replied without looking up from his pinky toe. He smudged a bit on his foot. "Argh! Look what you made me do!"

"I already did," I said. "He said no...I think. It was hard to tell."

Mommy Matt opened his mouth, but before he could protest I whipped out the box of donuts. His mouth started to water and his eyes glazed over at the sight of the still warm donuts. Such a cliche about cops.

"You can have a blog account," Mommy Matt said, almost sounding hypnotized.

"Thank you, Mommy Matt!" I exclaimed happily, tossing him the donuts and running to the computer. And that's the story of how I came to be on Burnt Toast Diner. Exciting, huh?

I would stay longer, but I have to go now. Mommy Matt wants me to bake cookies with him. We always end up eating the raw cookie dough.

Aloha, Burnt Toast Diner!

Aloha faithful blog readers. It's me, Elle. Elle who is NOT a tramp despite anything that certain ex wives may try to imply, whatevs!

So I'm posting this from Hawaii. Westie-poo and I decided a vacation was in order after our slightly traumatic kinda maybe restoration of Nathan Petrelli. Personally, it wasn't that traumatic for me because I got to pay Nathan some proper respects...but West is still bothered by it. I'm wondering if he saw the security images? Oh geez louise that would be just as bad as that time I got my hand stuck in the toaster and blew out the power in Manhattan. Not a good time...

Oh yeah, so I needed a break as did my boy toy, so we grabbed our swimmies and he flew me here to Hawaii. Swiping Dad's gold card came in way handy. That was until I'm strutting through the lobby and see my dad walk by...in a speedo. I nearly fainted in horror. Though lucky for me, logic came in and I shoved West behind a suitcase carrier thing and put on my best daddy greeting grin.

"Elle!" He gasped, throwing a towel around himself (thank you, thank you whatever almighty presence is up there).

"Daddy!"

"Young lady, I swore you were grounded. This is unacceptable, Elle."

"Oh, I...just wanted to make you proud and hunt down some pesky people with powers. I heard Sylar likes to vacation here. Thought I would investigate?" Then I got that weird feeling I get where I swear I was some sort of a detective in another life...

Oh, whatevs. I was curious to know exactly why my Dad was there too. "Wait, why are you here?"

"I...love Poi?" Daddy shrugged.

Oh God, is he dating? Is he trying to pick up chicks? MEN? WHAT IS GOING ON HERE? I batted my eyelashes and gave my best 'little princess' smile.

"Oh. I bet you're here for the spam festival too," I beamed.

"Right! Spam! Yes, Elle," he nodded.

"Well. You have fun there, Daddy," I grinned.

"Don't disappoint me, Elle," he snapped back.

We glared at each other for a moment before he finally took off out the doors to the beach.

Ugh. Can you imagine? I'm trying to get away from my Dad and I come across him there in the very same hotel I just booked? Ew. Whats the creepiest is how...calm he was and how he didn't have the Haitian pop out of somewhere and erase my memories. Wait...I can't rememeber...nevermind.

So, last thing I remember is West singing Karaoke for me at
the SECOND hotel we booked much farther down the beach.
He sang Mr. Roboto for me. It was pretty cute, and kinda embarrassing but his geekiness is what really gets my engine burning and the sparks flying. Yowza! So after a quick run up to our hotel room and a quick game of Transformers tag as we've called it lately we found ourselves on the beach in the warm sand staring out at the pretty blue ocean.

*sigh* Seriously. I'd seen stuff like this on TV all the time but there was no smoke monster or polar bears, so it really made things kinda mushy and cute! West held my hand and I zapped him one for no real reason other then I quite like it and then we kissed as the sun went down.

Tomorrow he's taking me for a flight over Diamond head! I told him to wait until after Maury was over. Its one of those baby momma drama episodes. I love those!

You know you love me,
xoxo.

The Adventures of Pete and Prete

Hello all. It's Peter. Sorry I haven't had the time to blog recently, but I've been as busy as a hibernating bear trying to catch my evil twin brother, Preter, who escaped from captivity in my basement, AKA POz. He somehow didn't get shanked by all the other people I hate (William Shatner, Mark Hamil, and a Cylon) I trap in my basement, and escaped by faking an Anthrax scare.

Let me back up a bit and give you the gruesome beginnings. After Sylar stabbed me in the head with a shard of glass, I was in the custody of a Doctor Mohinder Suresh. Well, before he dropped me off to experience the worst pain of my life (being brought back to), Mohindy took from me what is to precious ambergris from the whale. That's right - my precious DNA, which should never be passed on. He took it, and, after praying to several cows, made a clone of me, the evil Preter!

Well, this Preter is pure evil. He has as much fun as a flying squirrel in flight, laughs as much as a fully endowed male amongst eunuchs, and worst of all, talks as metaphorically and symbolically as a sexy Sylar! He is shallow, like the pool of my happiness! He shows no emotion, except for great amounts of joy and lust! He is the anti-Peter!

Don't believe me? Well so far, since Preter escaped from my basement, he's gone to a strip club, tried to beat up my brother, shacked up with my brother's ex-wife, and went forward in time to a non-existent future and slept with my Kaitlin under the guise of Peter! KAITLINNNNN!

Well, once I catch him, I'm going to kill him like I kill all my girlfriends - inadvertently! Hey, it still gets the job done, doesn't it? Once I get sensual, Dmitri Karamazov Preter out of the way, all that's left will be me, Ivan Peter. Well, my future's looking bright, as an intellectual Russian who eventually goes insane. Evil twin killing. Dostoevsky. Insane Russian Scholar Peter. Such is anti-Preter.

Hello Burnt Toast

Hey ya'll

First off, Mr. Muggles, I am extremely sorry about hacking into your account. It was the first one Micah found. I feel real bad about the pain I caused you. I wish you all the luck in the world with your modeling career.

Now back to my entry. Micah finally set me up with a blogger account. It took me a few minutes to understand what I need to do to set up an account. I am not as fast at this than my second cousin. He can just touch a computer and then he brings up anything he wants. I tired to watch and learn but it is his gift.

Micah did do something really nice for me thought. He found out that I LOVE Hello Kitty from my baby brother. I had a pretty cool collection before Katrina wiped it out. My bro used to get my dolls and hang them by a noose. How twisted is he? He was probably envious that my collection was cooler than his Tupac shrine. Since I moved into Nana's, I have not had the time try to start up my collection. Just yesterday, I got off from work and find a box addressed to me in the living area. Baby bro was sitting right by the box like it had some important he could not touch. Micah was just sitting at the piano playing some nice tunes. Nana tells me that the box came today. On the address on the box was listed Amazon. I didn't understand why Amazon would send me anything. I know I have a wish list but it is so outdated by year. I decided to open the box. Inside the brown box, I found this little gem:

I started to cry. I couldn't believe my eyes. She was so beautiful. I missed looking at her cute face. I wish mom could have seen her. Over the shook wore off, I asked who sent this to me. Nana and baby bro knew nothing about it. I knew it was my BFF Camille. We haven't got our paychecks yet. I heard a soft voice spoke up saying "It was me".

"Micah, you shouldn't have gotten this for me. " I told him

"You helped with my dad's medal and with my mom. You deserve it." He replied

"How could you have afforded this?" I asked him

He looked at me and just said "Don't worry about it OK"

I am floored he did this to me. It has been a long time since I have had a Hello Kitty figure. Other than the Hello Kitty doll, everything been OK. work is work. Camille is having boy trouble. She supposed to go on a date tonight so she said after the date she would call me. I better get going and start to cook dinner for everyone.

Love
Monica

The Continuing Adventures of a Bleeding Ex-Congressman

Hello all, after my last exciting romp and blog, I decided to take my future into my own hands and contact my illegitimate offspring for a little help with my gaping bullet wounds. Although the deal I made with the devil is keeping my alive temporarily, I don’t know how much longer my reprieve will last. All the bleeding I’m doing is getting on my nerves too. You have no idea how difficult it is to pick up hot chicks with blood running down your chest. Thank God, I’m gorgeous or I would be the loneliest guy on the planet, well next to Claire’s half-brother, Lucus. Unfortunately, Claire is proving a little difficult to track down, so I had to hire a private detective to help me out. Naturally, as a Petrelli, I had to hire the best; and in this case, the best happens to reside in Hawaii. His name is Magnum, Magnum P.I. Isn't it cool the way his last name is the same as his profession?

I have to tell you, I’m pretty happy with my choice. Not only do I get to bask in the sun, but my new P.I. friend…he has a certain way with the chicks too. I told him about my little problem of course and he felt that it was imperative that we begin our search immediately. I was uncertain how the plan would work…you know, with us in Hawaii and Claire somewhere in CA; but Mag, that’s what I call him, was insistent, so I followed his advice and we were off to follow up our first lead.

As soon as we arrived at Casa LaBrestage, I felt convinced we wouldn’t find Claire. Mag began to explain that his contact was meeting us there, but I had already lost interest in everything he was saying because this vision of beauty and love presented herself to me. I have never felt such a connection with a woman in my entire life. I tried to get her name and number, but her dumb boyfriend showed up. At first, he just sat beside me with a $@$# look on his face, but when he noticed me giving her the wink, he became a little hostile. The situation would have resulted in fisticuffs had the barbarian not reminded me of my little Pete. Anyway, Mag and I were promptly shown the exit and our first search ended in failure. Mag told me not to worry though. He said, “As long as you have money, we will find another ‘lead.’

I couldn't concentrate on leads though. All I could think of was my new, future Mrs. Petrelli. I just have to figure out a way to steal her away from the Peter look alike. She was so shy and delicate. My sweet little flower. I will woo her, and she will be mine, oh yes...she will be mine.

Tyra, Eat Your Heart Out

Hello Everyone. I just now was able to get my Blogger account back. I felt so violated knowing someone was on my account. I don't know who to blame, happy go lucky burger girl or her weird cousin with the techno-touch (I'd like to take a giga-bite out of him). It's like having someone sleep in my bed. I have my groove for my little fit body and next thing you know, there is a huge Linus lump in it. It just didn't feel right. I only now got back the nerve to post.

Other than my hacked Blogger account, life has been okay. It has been so warm here that I have been tanning outside a lot. Words cannot describe the feeling of the warm sun hitting my soft, shinny fur. I want a nice sun-bleached look to my fur. I try not stay in the sun too long, though. I don't want to burn my wonderful body! The fur is starting to get that California sun look.

Mummy wants to get me back into modeling. She got a whole wall of my modeling shots.
I miss being in front of the camera. Mummy thinks it's time again. She talked to Father about it. At first, he didn't seem too thrilled about the idea. He didn't want more attention on our family. Mummy was trying to tell him that it would be positive attention. She promised that only she would be present. She said maybe Linus might tag along but it will be her. She even told father that he doesn't have to go either to photo shots, press junkets, or dogs shows. I think that news won him over. Right now, Mummy is calling different agents in the phone book. She thinks I may need an agent to help get the word out about me coming out of retirement.

Well, I better get going. It's time for my daily sunning session.

- That's Mister Muggles to you!

More Weird Dreams

I don't know why it is, but I seem to have the weirdest dreams. I always did, even before I discovered my gift with the cards. I'm sure all the drinking I did recently didn't help either. In fact I'm sure that's why this latest one was so weird, that and being detoxed. You know, I can't remember a quarter of what went on while I was impersonating Claude, not even the stuff I listed here or my own blog. Anyway, the latest weirdness was at least interesting if not fun to look at but it makes no sense. . .

In the dream, I was in this forest that I'd never seen before. It occurred to me that I should find Claude as maybe he'd know what was going on. He usually does. At least in real life. When I found him I got a surprise:
I didn't know Claude knew how to ride. I knew he liked to bet on horses but I didn't know he could ride one (at least he could in the dream). As much as I'm used to seeing him bearded I did have to say he looked HOT! Claude asked me if I'd seen any Signs, and somehow I figured that he didn't mean the type of street signs that my kid brother used to nick, either:
I told him no I hadn't. "Keep looking. There are six of them. Bring them to me and I will reward you," Claude said and then rode off. I was just about to go looking for these Signs when I woke up. Unfortunately, my cards weren't terribly helpful at sorting this mess out: all I kept seeing were Biohazard symbols (I think we all know what that was all about) and ones that looked like "Danger:Poison" or "Jolly Roger" Pirates' flags. Signs, what Signs? Did this mean something else, as my dreams so often do? Or is my subconscious just winding me up?




I'd ask Claude but right now he's a bit annoyed with me. I've read the entries several times and I can't remember anything from the time he left and I started my job as a decoy until the time at which Claude got me sober again. Oh well.

Reading is fun and educational

Hey guys, it’s me again, Lyle? Here I am at the local library. It sure is cold in here but that might be because it’s 3 in the morning and the librarian turned off the heat in an effort to drive me out in the open where she will try and kill me. That’s what happened last night, anyway. But don’t worry, it’s ok because I know Mom and Dad have better things to do and they wouldn’t just forget to pick me up for no good reason, right?

Anyway, as I sit here shivering from the cold, I’m looking at Primatech’s database, cause I kinda accidentally hacked into the mainframe or something? And, I don’t know, it’s pretty cool I guess. Most of the stuff I already know (even though my parents never talk about it with me) but did you know what the Company’s only weakness is? Cause I do.



I wonder if Dad will pay attention to me if I show him? Do you think he’ll be proud of me, or maybe give me a pat on the back or tell me he loves me or even let me have one of Claire’s old jackets she never wears? Probably not, considering no one ever listens to me, but I sure hope so…Especially since I’ve deleted all the files of his past assignments. Those reports are obviously false, my dad doesn’t shoot people.

Love, Lyle?

Dinenr whit teh Bnenets

Wlel, yuo wuoldn't bleieve teh carzy tihngs giong no rihgt now.

Frist, Nahtan gets soht. No big dael. Poilitcains get soht all teh tmie.

Tehn, Pteer creid. No sruprise. Emos awlays cyr. Tehy wiat fro veery opoprutnity fro it.

Btu tehn, smoetihng unhread of hapepned! Bnenet ivnited me oevr fro spuper! Tihs is teh smae man taht tihnks I'm a fta lsoer adn uesed me to gte hmislef uot fo Pirmatech so he cuold klil Molly. Teh ssmae man taht wuoldn't tlel me hsi frist name no mtater hwo mnay tmies I saked. Teh smae man taht ate teh lsat dnout wihtuot ofefernig it to me druing a stkeuot of Pirmatech's Odsesa ofifce!

I wsa ntaurally spusiciuos. He hda to be palnning smoetihng. Btu waht?

"Prakman," he gereted me. "Ncie to see yuo."

As he sta me at the dnier tbale, I tired raeding hsi mnid. Jpansee! I raelly shuold lrean taht lnagauge.

"Hlep yuorslef," he siad. I raeched for teh msahed ptotaoes. He smlied at my chioce and siad, "Msahed ptotaoes, huh? Good man."

Hsi fmaily straed srtagnely at me. Nrevuos, tehy smeeed.

"Ho, my goodnses! Tehy'er fedeing teh fta man bfefore me," a msytreuois mnid spkoe pu.

Woh cuold ti be, I wnodered. A hried asasisn? The Hiatain? A rde-haeded setp cihld?

"Sya," I siad. "Wehre's Llye?"

"Woh?" Bnenet saked.

"Dno't you have a sno? Llye, rgiht?"

"Ho, him. Yaeh...he's at teh lbiary. Sutdying."

Snadar saked, "Wreen't yuo sposed to pcik him up?"

"Yaeh, at fuor," he repiled.

I galnced at my wtach. "It's aleady tihrteen fvie."

"Tihrteen fvie?" Snadar was pzuzled.

Bnenet wihspreed to hre, "He's dylesxic. He maens fvie tihrteen." He lokoed bcak at me as fi I dind't haer him. "He epxects me to be ltae, or froget him atlohger. I wuoldn't wnat to disapopint."

Teh rset of the dinenr cotnieud reuglraey enuohg. At teh ned of teh veening, I tahnked teh Bnenets fro dinenr and wnet hmoe.

Teh nxet dya I wnet to teh lbiary to rterun a boko, Bolgging whit Dylesxai. I raelly wsih tehy wuold mkae audoi bokos on dylesxai.

"Hye, Llye," I siad to a scraed litlte kid tyring to stael sancks form teh vedning mcahine. "Bcak agian, he?"

Due West

It was a cold night. They were always cold nights. Steam shot off my barrel as I fired.

"What the Hell?" the man yelled. "That's my car!"

I hated when they pointed out the obvious, but it makes for great exposition in my blogs about it later.

"I'm practicing," I said.

"Well you better practice paying for the damages!" The man started walking toward me. I had seen the look many times, from West, from Nathan, from Sandra....he was going to punch me.

I lifted my gun at him. He didn't stop. I fired off two shots, and immediately following each, a tire on his vehicle deflated. The left side of his car sank and he came to a halt, ducking with his arms over his head.

When he stopped cowering in fear and realized he was still alive, I said, "Look, if I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already. Now get out of here."

The man ran off. As he approached the horizon, I raised my gun, adjusting for distance and landed a slug in his right shoulder. "A souvenir," I said and got into my Nissan Rogue.

The drive back to the Company was a boring one. I used to spend long drives talking to my partner, Claude. Sometimes he was invisible, and a couple times I had left him at a 7/11, but there or not, he was a great conversationalist. I looked over at the empty passenger seat. There was no Claude. There was no Eden. No Haitian. I really need a partner, I thought.

When I arrived back at the office, I stopped Bob in the hallway. "So, I was thinking...."

"Never a good thing, Noah. Remember what happened last time you did that?"

"I know. I know. But this is about helping the Company."

"What's on your mind, Noah?" His use of my name in every sentence reminded me why I left the Company in the first place.

"I could use a partner."

"That's a good idea, Noah."

"Yes, I thought so too."

"Do you have anyone in mind, Noah?"

"I was thinking about West."

"Hmm...., Noah."

I could tell he was uneasy about the suggestion. He obviously wondered how loyal the boy would be. I knew from past experience he would be an effective bagging and tagging machine. He's not the biggest fan of humanity, and I think a chance to prod it along in the right direction would appeal to him. And the flying, well that's just cool. Imagine how quickly and surprisingly he could apprehend our subjects. But he was wary of the Company. I could understand Bob's hesitation.

"I'm concerned about child labor laws, Noah."

"Since when?"

"Since the whole Molly thing, Noah."

It was true. My attempt to kill her would have devastated Primatech. Employing children is always a risky move on the part of secret organizations. They have a tendency to die, or become horribly injured. And dead children bring questions. We don't want questions.

"Let me talk to him," I said.

Bob nodded and said, "Noah," as he walked off.

I got into my car and drove. "Where are we going?" I pretended an invisible Claude asked from the passenger seat.

"West," I replied.

Peter might be a daddy!

To tell what is going on now, I must explain how it started and I am not certain I am the most reliable narrator for this.
Picture this: New Year's Day- I awoke around ten in the morning,which is unsual for me.
My head was throbbing and I note the room is a wreck-I mean that in a
most unsavory meaning. There is silly putty and clothes on furniture and everything else is on the floor like it was just shoved.
Peter is next to me with his arms wrapped about my waist which isn't that odd. He often has cried himself to sleep and mistakes me for his Hello Kitty Doll.
Then, I am bombarded with the most horrifying images which explain why I
was wearing no clothes.


"Hey" Peter awoke and started to nuzzle my neck"Morning"

"Peter, I may the widow of your brother and I think I should go into denial right away. It isn't right!"
He stopped and looked into my eyes with those soulful,sexy eyes of his and
grinned" It seemed right everytime,even right over the Statue of Liberty. It was meant to be Heidi. I just tried to bury my feelings for you."

That is one image I am afraid was the first thing that came back to me. Those
poor tourists. I pray they didn't take pictures.

"Where are the boys?" I was now in fear I had been a bad mother
Peter continued down my neck "I flew them over to their aunt's they are fine. You worry to much Heidi, trust me that was a load of stress you unloaded."
My face started to burn with shame. How did this happen? Why did I have an elf
costume hanging on the bottom of the bed on one of the posts?
Then it hit me
Perhaps the powers that be were striking in order justice must be done. Perhaps, this reality was not our reality!
Oh, after that I just couldn't think anymore. I am a bad,bad,widow.;)
Flashforward to present:
I think I am with child and am going to buy test to see. Peter is just glowing
at the thought of being a father. Me, I wonder if his superpowers can involve carrying the child instead of having to do it myself.
Oops,gotta go-Peter is giving me 'the look"
To quote a certain little tramp:
"SQUEEEEEE"

Still Alright...kinda.

I know people have been pretty concerned about my well being. I just thought I'd use my twenty minutes of alloted internet time to check in and say hello.

Things have been pretty dead around here. Haha, get it? Oh come on who knew the stripper had a sense of humor, right? When you're stuck in who knows where, you find things to do.

Speaking of things to do, I finally ran into Nathan here. We had quite a lot of catching up to do. And by quite a lot of catching up to do I mean, the pool table, by the fire place (there sure are a lot of those here) on the big guys favorite chair. We started running out of places to 'talk'. We're creative though, don't worry, we'll think of something.

I've had a lot of time to reflect. Why on earth did I go after Miranda, Marissa...oh whatever her name is? I'm sure she could have watched a video on how to extinguish fire with her pinky toe and gotten out of there. I really should have gone after Nathan. If Nathan and I were together in a hotel room in a seedy casino in Vegas instead of trying to help out family members well, maybe things would be different. Though that would involve giving Nathan's brother a brain, hey Sylar, you got one to share?

I have no clue where things will go for us from here. I don't even know where I am. Am I dead? Am I in a coma? Am I in limbo? Is this just another world being played out in my pretty little head? I mean, if I'm dead...where is DL? Did he get some super fancy suite? Are we on different floors? I heard mutterings of 'the company'. These thoughts are just too much for me to process, so I stick to my usual most of the time. I sit and I cry 'Oh Miiiiiicaaaaah' or something like that, then blame myself for DL's death for an hour or two, cry some more...it's repetitive but familiar.

Does it really matter? I'm basically just trying to keep Jessica and Gina at bay because they want their greedy paws on every sleezebag who comes into view and then its time to figure out exactly where I am and how I get back to my precious little pumpkin, Micah. Then we are moving far far away from any family. Wonder if I can get Nathan to come with? I'm sure if I promise to wear his tie again and nothing else, I could get him to say yes.

SAT Prep Class Sucks

You know, my life is full of plans for world domination and hanging out with my super-hot older girlfriend, Elle, but even I have to get my head out of the clouds sometimes, even if keeping my feet on the ground (so to speak) sucks.

What am I talking about? I'm talking about planning for my future. Of course, my old plans will have to change a bit, but I'm sure Elle and I can steal her daddy's gold and get an awesome apartment. I just need to get into college first, and that's where the SATs come in.

So I took an SAT prep class with Debbie, May, Martha, Claire, and Elle. I think Elle came along because her dad never let her do normal teenage things. That, and I imagine she wanted a chance to take some of Claire's blood.

It was kinda boring at first, going over the stupid rules of English grammar and the robotic language of Math formulas, but the essay writing was where it got interesting. The teacher was this little man with bad hair and glasses, and he got a bit overexcited critiquing our essays.

Debbie was "so brave" for writing about "her struggles with alcohol abuse" but needed "to tone her language down in order to remain sympathetic." May and Martha's essays were "profoundly uninteresting" and "could be interchangeable with the musings of any other teenager." Claire's essay, about meeting her grandmother for the first time, "perfectly utilized the archetypes of the maiden and crone to tell a whimsically over-the-top story." My essay "described the trials and tribulations of adolesence with the superhero and science-fiction mythos skillfully woven throughout."

But when he came to Elle's essay, the teacher just sputtered and said, "Good job."

"What was that about?" I asked her.

"Oh, I just wrote about the time I got a kitten for my birthday and dad made me electrocute him to death. No biggie. Besides, he's probably just subconsciously mad at the company or whatev. Didn't you see the marks on his neck?"

When everybody left the class, I decided to see for myself. "So, Teach," I said, "What's your story? What hidden talent are you hiding?"

He just looked at me and said, "Kid, I can grade a scantron sheet test just by looking at the dots, and you, I'm afraid, are woefully average. Hate to break it to you, but you're not the alien god you pretend to be."

...Eh, forget him. He's just another servant of the machine. I know I'll rule the world someday!

But I did learn something worthwhile from Elle and her essay: Sometimes it's a relief to not be the craziest person in the class, you know?

Regestration for Lafawnda, SATs, and a Missing Biodad

So winter break is over and I'm back to school. I'm still in Cali while the evil paper company figures out where they want dad to work from since he's pretty much their biotch again now. On top of that, now that the whole family knows about Daddy's gunslinging exploits, we have to listen to it at the dinner table.

The other night during dinner, Daddy was recalling some of those exploits from the past. He seems to be happy to be able to talk to us about it now. What ever happened to the "When I was a youngun I had to walk up hill to school in the rain both ways"? Now when I complain about practice being rained out he tells the whole family how hard it is shoot somebody when they can turn into water. Geez, such a drama queen. And then a tiny voice spoke from under the table.

"Speaking of school... My teacher thinks that you might have registered me for the wrong grade..."

Mom started to scream. "Rat! RAAAT!"

"No, Mom, it's just Larry," I said.

"Claire Bear. You know that's not his name," Daddy said. "His name is Lafawnda,"

He looked under the table but Lafawnda was no longer there. We finally found him in the corner wrestling Muggles for a piece of garlic bread. Muggles was winning, so we pulled him off and Mom made him a plate of food and pulled a stepping stool for him to sit on at the table. "Now what's this about Linda?" Dad asked when everything was settled.

"My teacher says I'm in the wrong grade,"

"That's ridiculous. You can't be any more stupid than the rest of the first graders. I will not have my son put back into Kindergarden," Daddy said, pounding his fist on the table indignantly.

"No, not back. My teacher says I should be a freshman. At Claire's school,"

Daddy looked thoughtful. "Daddy! He'll totally screw up my new super awesome reputation!" I cried. Daddy thought for a few more minutes and when he finally spoke we were almost done cleaning up the dishes. "I have it!" He cried, thrusting his hand to the air. "We'll register him at Claire's school,"

"Daddy!" I shrieked.

"But we'll do it under a different name so he doesn't tarnish Claire Bear's reputation,"

Mom clapped, clearly in awe of Daddy's brilliance. "What will we call him?" I asked. Dad went back into his thoughtful mode. "How about... Lyle Bennet," He said. "He can have our old last name until we go back to it. And Lyle... Well, that's the one name we never call him, so it must not be his name," He reasoned. Linus didn't say anything. He just nibbled on his bread with a little grin on his face.

The next day I met up with Mom, Dad, and Lindsay to regester him for my school. We had to be quiet because the SAT prep class was still going on. (I finished my stuff earlier than the rest. My ex was right when he said I was smart). We were just leaving the office when a scream split the air. My B.E. (Ball-less Ex) was running toward us. Something had finally made him snap. "Robot on the loose! Politition-bot on the loose!" He cried. Elle was trailing behind him, but making considerably less noise. "What are you doing here, aren't you like, 20?" I asked her. I'd been waiting all day.

"She's with me," E.B. said, slinging an arm around her.

"I didn't know you had a thing for little girls, Elle," I said. "If you and E.B. don't work out, I know this crazy cheerleader who might go for you," Elle bristled. She had obviously met May back in SAT prep.

"Anyway, you're biodad-bot has gone missing. We were poking him with some of your blood and now he's running around out there. We must terminate him!"

"No!" Elle and I both screamed, but for very different reasons. Well, maybe not. I am a Petrelli by blood.

Daddy excused himself and went running off. West and Elle flew off somewhere leaving me, Mom and Lafawnda. "I have to go... to the bathroom," I said. Why do I have to do everything around here?

Steamy Exploits of a Former Politician. Read at your own risk.

So, the last time you guys heard from me I was making like a statue at the big Christmas Party where “Nooooah” was hosting. $#@@$#. I tell you that Bob is a little sensitive. He turned me to gold with so little provocation, but I have to admit the situation worked in my favor. Just between you and me… even as a statue, I get the hot chicks. I spend most of my days as a laundry stand. I’m stuck in a corner with panties thrown across my face. Now that I think about, it isn’t so different from my life before the unfortunate gunfire incident and gold statue transformation.

My nights, however, are a whole different story. Elle frequently moves me to her bed. It’s a very accommodating thing for her to do. She tries to massage my stiffness away. I think she gets how uncomfortable stiffness can be to a man, I mean to a statue. However, our nightly ritual was a little different this last time because her little boyfriend showed up. I tried to tell her I’m not into underage kids…or guys…yeah…I’m not into those either, but it turned out not to matter because she pushed me out of the bed. I landed in an awkward position. My golden bum was up in the air and those Hannah Montana sheets didn’t quite cover the situation.

I was stuck in that position for a good 25 minutes while they discussed what to do with me. They finally decided on some of my daughter’s blood. The needle broke three times before that West kid finally accepted the fact that he couldn’t give me the blood that way. Finally, Elle get’s the idea that they could give me the blood through an open orifice. Oh…How I wish Parkman was there to read my mind at that moment…I was screaming EAR, EAR, EAR…but alas, West, felt the need to try an enema…I would tell you more about it, but I have blocked out the experience.


The good news is that I’m no longer a gold statue. The bad news is, the kid wasted what little blood we had and it wasn’t enough to take care of my bullet wound problem. I did learn enough to know how to save myself. Now I just have to find my illegitimate daughter. I hope she isn’t holding any grudges over my multiple rejections toward her and stuff.

Before I left on my new quest, I sent the West kid on a fool’s errand. I needed some time to pay “my” respects back to Elle. Yeah…She wasn't happy when she looked over my shoulder and saw the camera clicking. That guy her father paid to spy on her is probably still feeling the sting. I don't know if I'll ever get that burnt hair smell out of my nostrils. However, by the end of the evening, I got her mind off of it, and I left her happy. In fact, I learned a few new tricks you can do with electricity.

The Bishops: Putting the FUN in Dysfunctional!

Things have been pretty...creeptastic lately, like you wouldn't even believe! It all started with Daddy's Christmas party, apparently Daddy took it upon him to put the FUN in Dysfunctional. It was...a good time? Despite seeing Peter. Ugh. I swear that guy's sole purpose in life is to get me all irritated or whatev. Good thing Adam wasn't there. It would have been like ex-boyfriend overdose and I would have totally needed to spew. I'll admit there are some days where I really miss Adam, and some where I really wish I didn't do what I did with him. I'm strapped for deets, apparently my Daddy is getting suspicious of this place and mentioned maybe getting his own journal. Yuck, how like....WEIRD would that be? God forbid he gets like, a girlfriend or something, how yuck would that be? *shudders*

ANYWAY. So this morning I was set to have my typical Jamba Juice date with my little snuggle birdie when I awoke to an ice cold heavy figure next to me. I jumped up and pulled back the sheets to reveal that stupid statue of Nathan my Dad kept over from the Christmas party. I had been too busy eying West and glaring at the Cheerleader to really hear what that was about but....Nathan was a real trooper I'll give him that. I ended up under the sheets for a moment longer, paying my respects and all when there was a knock at my window.

WEST. Whoops, how would I explain how exactly the statue of Nathan wound up in my bed??? I used all my might...which hello I'm built like an eleven year old...so it wasn't much...to shove the damn thing off my bed. Great, that STILL looked bad. There was the statue of Nathan face down in my floor tangled up in my Hannah Montana sheets.

I quickly climbed into a Chewbacca shirt to lighten the mood and a Transformers hoodie was thrown on over that. I opened my window and grinned. "Hello my little eagle, how are you this fine winters morning?"

He gave me a curious look. "Is the statue of Nathan in your room again?"

"What? NEVER."

He peered over my shoulder and threw his hands up, obviously he wasn't happy. "Okay, seriously Elle. Your Dad is creepy, why does he keep doing that?"

"Oh. Yeah. My Daddy, right...what a creepface."

"I have an idea, lets leave the Nathanbot, I mean statue down there in Kirby Plaza. Let's see your Dad get a hold of him from atop the sculpture."

"What?" I paused. "Er uhm. Thats not nice, he'll like, rust or something."

I could not imagine his pretty face being rusted. Could you imagine it? What a horrible thing to picture. Those long, beautiful, eyelashes covered in yucky flakey rust. NO WAY.

West shrugged. "What it's not like we can bring him back to life or anything."

Or could we???? I grinned. "Oh yeah, like...no way, no life bringing backy or anything because that's just absurd. Who would wanna do that? Not me because I don't need to be kissed by Nathan Petrelli again because it really isn't the greatest thing ever. I mean...I love you?"

West was still looking at me like I had just said that the Autobots were better than the Decepticons. I sighed and looked to poor statue Nathan on the plush pink carpet.

Oh Nathan, beautiful Nathan...multi talented Nathan...

"Uh well, we could bring him back and we would like totally owe us a favor and you could get him to help you take over the world," I suggested.

West's eyes widened. Bingo. AND WHO SAID I WASN'T SMART.

"Plus it would be using Claire's blood and whatev, so it would kinda be a burn on her," I shrugged. Wow, I am an evil, evil genius. Who knew I was this genius?

West nodded in excitement. I wasn't exactly sure how it could work but I slipped on some Hello Kitty fluffy slippers, ran down the hall and managed to located the remnants of Claire's blood in our labs. I swore there was more...Who knew Cheerleeders bleed so much anywho? Yeesh.

And that was that. Of course, how the hell do you stab a needle through gold? Guess we'll just have to wait and see, right?

Contest Termination

We're down to the end! That means voting has started to the right. One of our contestants will be crowned the winner, and perhaps as a prize I'll agree not to shoot them (though a good bagging and tagging may still be in order).

First up, we hear from an odd lady. She claims to have card reading abilities. Big deal. I know what a seven of spades looks like. Oh, well. Company policy makes her a viable specimen anyway.

What Happened?

by Tarot

Visions,

Dreams,

Cards,

Chips.

Bottles,

Pigeon,

Spiritgum,

Mirrors.

Things are scrambled,

Reflections make no sense.

The past is a blur,

The future uncertain.

Holes in my memory,

Pain in my head.

A friend’s ally,

Now lies dead.

What I did,

While he,

Had gone to see,

It’s all hidden from me.

I have read what I must have written,

But I have no recall at all.

All is just the present,

Until my visions return,

And the pain is banished.

Our penultimate contestant, and the only contestant who would know what that word means, is an horrible, horrible man. He's a traitor to all and should not be trusted. Don't vote for this fiend. I'm glad he believes in Karma because I can blame destiny when I shoot him in the face.

The Many Metaphorical Hats Serving as Occupational Identifiers of Doctor Mohinder Suresh

by Dr. Mohinder Suresh

What is my vocation?
Do I have an identifiable occupation?
Or do I flutter
From job to job, like a stutter
In Matt's communication?
A geneticist I was first.
I was a Taxi Driver, at worst.
I dabbled in espionage
It felt like a mirage,
Til I put Bennet in a hearse.
I came to regret my dispatching
Of the very man who'd been hatching
The plan that would destroy
Those keeping me in their employ.
So, I performed some medical patching
Does that determine me a healer?
Does peeling potatoes make me a permanent peeler?
And merely because
I dealt with an artist on drugs
Would I claim to be an art dealer?
So many jobs, here and there.
Similar to a Belgian Hare,
Trapped in a hutch,
Yet still doing much.
But why am I not yet a billionaire?

And then there's his wife, I mean domestic partner. You have to feel sorry for this guy. Even when I bagged and tagged him, The Haitian didn't need to do much to knock him unconscious. A Haitian sneeze and his brain was down for the count.

Peotry is Hrad!

By Matt

I nveer lkied peotry
It mkaes my brian hrut
Is't nto maent fro me,
Lkie a tgiht shrit.

I cna tyr raelly hrad
But it awlays flais
Myabe I cloud do it
If I lreaned how to splel.

I geuss tahts why
My wfie lfet me
Taht and the fcat
She hda anohter man's bbay.

Poetry: Brains for the Soul!!

OMG, hey guys, it's me, Sylar! I, like, have a couple of totally
awesome poems by a couple of hot men to share with you 'n junk! To
start off with, we have one by Peter! If we combined his femininity
with my sexiness, the world would have, like, the hottest boy band
member ever! If only we could get rid of his icky sadness! Sadness
is like, totally uncool!

Emo Angst

by Peter

My heart is as dark
As the deepest depths of a baboon's anus
I see death all around me
Mostly caused by Sylar's gayness

Saving the world, I've done it twice
I am FDR without the wheelchair
The impending doom was just plain nice
In comparison to losing my hair
The cut, the tragedy, caused such pain
Like a constipated loon, failing to poo in the rain
The tears flow, but for now, no more crying
Now to save my girlfriend, but is it just futile?
They all end up dying
Like a hooker in a hotel

To top it all off, my brother is dead
Denial, like with someone who gets hemmroids
I want to hug him once more, I want to snuggle in bed
Petrelli man-love is the only way to fill my void
The pain, the loss, my sanity will teeter
Death. Destruction. Dysphagia. Such is Peter

Next, we have a poem from my best good friend, Mr. Glasses. Once I
had a totally crush on him, but I've moved on and now we're the
bestest of pals! And it seems he's totally workin' for his sexy
company again, the reason we met in the first place! That, 'n my
love of his daughter's brains! How, like, totally sentimental!
Well, let's see what sexiness he has in store for us!

Prophecy

By Mr. Glasses

The painting was vile
It was wretched, indeed!
I spent a long while
Fighting prophecy

I stopped Claire dating
I even killed Russians
But all of my fighting
Brought repercussions

Mohinder shot me
In slo-mo, I died.
It made Bob happy,
But my Claire Bear cried.

I once was blind
But now I see
Once was dead
But now I live
To Primatech Paper Company
My thanks I give

Poetic contrast Imortality and Death (Adam and Maya)

Well I've fought off enough of the hangover to present two poems. This first is by Adam Monroe who ironically has more time on his hands than he'd like:

Reflections Flowering in the Abyss (haiku)

by Adam Monroe
Darkness surrounds me
Consuming spidery thoughts
Will this thought too leave? (Yeah)

People have always wanted
My looks, my charm, my flair, me
This is now a curse. (Really)

Lyle keeps ass-kissing
But he can not help, No more
Than can all others. (Help me!)

Alas! they’re almost
At the door. And I’m not just
Being dramatic. (Please)

Back, vile villainous
Creatures of the lonely night.
I am also cold. (...)

I can hear the dead people
Crawling through the soil
I think they want my box.

I'm forced to wonder if Adam ever met the creator of "Dawn of the Dead."
Now here's Maya, whose poem focuses on Death:

Bringer of Death

by Maya Herrera

A wedding, a symbol of new life;
These memories only bring me well-deserved strife
Back in my home town, the Dominican, Mexico,
(I really don’t know)
Dressed as an angel in a dress never worn,
A demon, a killer, a freak is born
Tears of tar, black death and sorrow,
We kill all, the squirrel to the swallow.
My brother protects me, but everyone still dies,
As we pass from town, even the flies.
Out in some place, covered in sand,
A gay supposed angel poofs into my land.
With him came salvation I thought I’d never find,
My tears no longer the end of all man kind.
But even with my newfound control,
Death and armadillos are the meals I dole.
While wings of passion made me take flight,
Alejandro’s jugular is severed, out of my sight.
So, dear readers, wherever you go
Always carry a knife, and axe or a hoe.
It might be in your best interest if I start to cry,
To give me a little wake up stab in the eye.
But don’t worry my friends, as if you would,
To my dismay I always come back, like termites in wood.

I know I swore off drinking but now I'm tempted to start again! And I thought my card readings and visions were bad!

Poetic Musings of Incestuous Nieces and Brain-Eaters

Hey everybody. It's Peter. I'm taking a break from crying and cutting my wrists and writing songs about girlfriends leaving me (and dying) to introduce some poems to you. This first poem is aptly titled, by a girl who is obviously in touch with her emotions. This is a good thing. It is by my cute little niece, Claire, who also happens to cry a lot, which makes me want to make love to her. Is that wrong?

I Can Still Cry

by Claire

My bones won’t break

And death won’t take

My skin’s like steel

But I still can feel

A bullet through the chest

And it still won’t rest

I watch them fall

One and all

Life’s an endless test

A sword through us two

I’ll walk away

But you’ll be through

My blood will be dry

But I can still cry

I must say, that was as hot as steaming pile of dog doo doo in a flaming paper bag that is to be stomped out by an unsuspecting person's boot, stomped out like the lives of Peter's girlfriends.

And this next poem by the man who is the cause of many of the tears. Luckily, his sexiness redeems him. Somehow, this man who is as idiotic as a child not on Ritalin, has come close to poetic genius by adapting his own version of Schiller's Ode to Joy. However, its lack of metaphors makes it fall short of the glory that is Peter.

Ode to Brains

by Sylar


Brains, source of super mind trick
Sexiness of Sylar!
Touched with telekinesis, a brain to lick
Of the hunger, we eat regardless of gender!
Your sweet powers, free for the pick
Held for next the power of the flier
All men on earth become victims
In my lust for these powers so higher

Be eaten, you millions!
This kiss for sexy boys
Dreamy guys, on this earth
Must have tasteful brains and be my toy

Whoever has the great fortune
To eat a scrumptious brain
Whoever wins the love of a lovely man
Eat his brain and ours!
Yes, anyone who has a soul
It comes from a brain on this earth
And anyone who doesn't should run away
Except they can't with no brain under their hood!

Those who bear the weird squiggly sign
Pay homage to me!
I lead to your death
Where your brains are eaten with glee!

OMG, a poem contest!

Hey Everybody! I'm sooo excited for this contest. I entered a poem and it's like, super deep. Uncle Super Cute Peter will be sooo proud. But you'll have to wait for it because this post isn't about me. Yep, I'm giving an intro like a really suave talks show host! Anyway, the first poem is by someone very special to me. He's more of a brother than my human brother Loyd. Everyone pays more attention to him at least. I think this poem was written during his little stint with twinkies. He was very upset about being out of the dog show buisiness. So here's Muggles! Clap extra loud for him, kay?