Dear Diary

Dear Online Diary that Everyone and Their Dog's Florist Can Read,

I have a confession to make. One I am not sure if I can tell to anyone else, as they could never understand the passions of a woman my age. I can only confess here, in this safe bastion of privacy. Those who know me forget that underneath this cold blooded, soulless exterior, lies the beating heart of a woman who hasn't tapped that ass in about 41 years. I mean, yes, Arthur has screwed me, but never with a single red rose or a proper continental breakfast the morning afterwards. I am a woman! I have needs!

So I turn to my inner most fantasies to survive and get me through the lonely nights while I lay to rest in my cold, four poster, canopy bed. There is only one man who can turn my head and make my bitter heart go thumpity thump....



Look at him! Look at that perfectly smooth, bald head. See his come hither look? Notice his extravagant "timepiece"? He's wearing an actual camel hair blazer! I know, deep in his soul, he knows what pret a porter vs couture is, yet he is still a man's man. Delectable! How could anyone reist the charms of such a fine Haitian fantasy?

He smells good. He speaks French. That accent! Oui j'taime! I could go on and on, but I'll spare the poor souls who are nosey enough to read my dirty little secret, and myself from going through the mental anguish of lusting over a man that I cannot have.

Since he can turn off my charming powers of suggestion at the drop of a dime, I can only hope that one day he sees me for the cougar that I am. Perhaps by then he will have created a voodoo doll in my honor and makes his OWN suggestions. A girl can only dream prophetic dreams that will never come true only so often.

Perhaps one day I will throw caution to the wind and grab his perfectly toned ass anyway. But for now, I admire from afar, and die a little on the inside each time he gives Bennet those bedroom eyes instead of me.

Damned to be Forlorn for All Eternity,
Or until one of my children pick me off...
Dame Angela Petrelli

Heroes of the Corn

Okay so let’s say your friend hypes up a movie. They tell you it’s the best movie ever and you have to see it right away. No, you have to see it on opening night or better yet stand in line for the midnight showing. Provided they have a show at midnight of course. So you’re all excited, you’ve been waiting in line for hours, you’ve even sat on the ground, leaning against the wall because you’re just that tired. Somebody might have taken pity on you and thrown you a sticky quarter. Then you get into the movie, you got your slusho or your popcorn or whatever over priced chocolate confection you prefer. Half way through the movie, you discover the big plot twist, which should be some life-altering event. And not some hyped up pod racing scene that went on way too long either For that split second, you’re in awe but then you blink a few times and go “That was it? That was the big secret?” A complete and utter let down.

Granted my secret wasn’t what everybody thought. I know some people thought maybe I killed somebody or lit my Dad’s cornfield on fire or even might have burned down the school gym because it was filled with rats or something equally lame like that. It would have been way cooler if I worked for the CIA in some secret black ops division. But the truth is, I’m the smarter more cuter version of Forest Gump. I make leg braces look cool. And now that eclipse has come around it’s allowed me to spend some quality time with some friends of mine and reflect on my past actions.

First let’s talk about Matt. He came all the way, because he felt bad about hesitating when I asked if he trusted me. I mean come on, I’m not some dumb blonde, I get it you know? I’m not trustworthy, but darn if I'm not a cutie right? But hey that’s cool, I don’t mind stabbing anybody in the back or the front for that matter. So he thought it would be inspiring to watch Forest Gump. We must have watched that movie a dozen times before I hobbled down to the cornfield. It’s a big corn field but I’m ready.

“Run Daphne Run!” Matt yells at me.

“Geez Matt I’m standing right next to you,” I roll my eyes as he nearly bursts one of my eardrums. Ando and Hiro start humming the theme from chariots of fire.

Well this is it I guess. I look towards the sky hoping for that Christmas miracle. Maybe its time to say a little prayer. Are you there God? It’s me Daphne, I know we haven’t talked much but I think I’m different from the other girls at school. Something happened to me down there but now it’s not working anymore.

Oh that was a private moment, you were supposed to plug your ears you know? Besides I was talking about my feet. What did you think I meant?

Anyways I gather my courage (not the liquid kind fueled by Jack Daniels) and give them the thumbs up, drop my crutches and land face down on the ground eating dirt.

Which brings me to Hiro who thinks he is 10 years old. Now in my moment of shame he decides to throw corn at me and speak in Japanese. “Stop that!” I roll over shielding my face from the offending corn. Why couldn’t he throw something soft like Marshmallows?

“I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” I yell. Isn’t anybody going to help me? Finally I reach over, grab one of my crutches, and swing it in the air ready to knock the offending corn thrower unconscious. Except it hit Ando in his manly goods instead. I didn’t even realize he had Manley goods to be honest.

His eyes crossed as he dropped to his knees. “Hiro,” he said much as he did when Hiro did his fake stab back at the Angry Skunk Bar before landing next to me on the ground.

“Oh yeah that’s gotta sting,” Matt cringed Hiro winced in sympathetic pain.

“What’s he saying?” I pull myself up and hobble over towards Matt and Ando.

Hiro shrugged and leaned in closer towards Ando as he moaned in pain.

“MALACHAI!” Ando lifted his hand and pointed behind the three of us. All I heard were girly screams as that weird kid from the next farm over started swinging his big knife with his wild red hair. See this is one of the reasons I don’t like living on a corn farm. You get all kinds of obsessed freaks who think they need to spill your blood in order to have a good season or whatever they do to get their jollies off.

Matt turned his head to the side but nothing happened, Hiro squinted hard, or he might have been constipated, but again nothing happened. What could I do? Without my speed, I was useless or was I? Swinging my crutch, I disabled Malachai in the same way I disabled Ando. He dropped to his knees, squished Matt’s turtle and all was right in the world.

See I don’t need special powers to be ‘special’ I got Matt plus my

two girlfriends with me. Now where is that damn eclipse because living the corn life isn’t the life for me.

Paging Doctor Clooney

I feel like I am in an episode of ER. It is so dark outside. People are yelling and screaming. There is blood everywhere. It's kind of gross. I feel so dirty looking at it. Father is carrying Claire in the house. Where is Doctor George Clooney when you need him? He can save the day while looking good.

My sister by another mother was shot! I think she was shot because Elle was envious of her blue hand bag. I know I would be jealous too. It is so blue and pretty. It would match Elle's eyes so well, definitely worth shooting someone over. I would have shot Claire for it, too (but don't tell her). Mommy is freaking out cause there is blood everywhere. She wants to go to the hospital. Father doesn't want to go. His reasoning is that people will ask questions. Going by his "reasoning", if she gets worse, won't the doctors get wonder why she hasn't been treated earlier anyways? Or why she's dead? I don't try to understand father's caveman logic. Doesn't the company has some hush doctors anyways. What's a paper company without secret MDs on hand for those painful paper cuts?

I also over heard father saying something about Claire being a catalyst. It sounds like an illness; like cat scratch fever (a terrible disease, mind you!). I wasn't really paying much attention to him talking. I was too busy thinking of how to get blood stains off of the couch. I wonder if you can buy Oxi Clean by the barrel? Oxi Clean is DA BOMB! Like this one time, I got sick after eating my dinner. I sort of up-chucked on Father's favorite chair (I wasn't even drinking, well I mean, all I had was a glass of Chardonnay, and maybe a martini...or two). I tried to walk away and act like nothing happened. It didn't take father too long to notice something wasn't right. He started to threaten me with a rolled up newspaper. Then, Mommy come out with this bottle and cleaned my mess. It did wonders to that stain! Who would have guessed that bearded men would know so much about stain removal? But, I would assume blood would be more difficult to get out, though. Let's see Billy Mays clean this upseeees.

Wait, whhy can't I typee thatttt great> I am staaaaarting to feeel weak. Ooh no, pleease Baby Jesus, let me bbe abble to fiinsh this post. I loove beein able to typpe and blog. I cannt go back being just a nmmoral dog; Iiii tojoo gdddd for taaa! I cccan't go a day without my online gossip. Pleaase coome back poowers! Pleeeeeeeeeeez!@!!@!!!@~!~!

Stupid Turtle and Stupid Karma

Attention Bloggers:

I have the most horrible news. My mother sent me on a mission to find the Haitian,… but that’s not the bad news. My little bro Pete wanted to tag along, but that’s not the bad news. Pete started to whine and cry when I said no, forcing me to take him along anyway, but again that’s not the bad news. I’ve lost my ability to fly, but that’s not the bad news. I’ve been taken prisoner by a bunch of crazy commandos, but that’s not the bad news. My father set me up, but that’s not the bad news either. Get this... I’ve been locked away with no chicks to seduce… $#@$#

The days seemed to turn into nights and then into days again. I lay on the floor and moaned. I knew I couldn’t take much more. I imagined that my manly parts were drying up and falling off from lack of use. *sniff* I was on the verge of an emo breakdown to match Pete’s, when I heard a rustling from the corner of my cell. It was a turtle, and it spoke to me!!!

“Stop whining, you’ve been here for five minutes, besides, this is entirely your fault. Your bad karma has finally come back to haunt you.”

I was incredibly offended. “Hey, I don’t have bad karma. I have sexy karma.”

The turtle looked at me and rolled his turtle eyes. “You don’t think you’ve done something for which the universe might want to get even…”

I said, “Nope, I’m good, good and sexy.

“How about that time you had an illegitimate daughter and never acknowledged her?”

I said, “My Mumzie made me do it.”

The turtle said, “How about all those times you cheated on your wife?”

I said, “I’ve not had sexual relations with any woman.”

The turtle said, “How about that time you nearly let NY explode?”

I said, “Nearly is the key word you’re looking for there mister.”

The turtle said, “How about all those times you picked on your little brother about being a nurse.”

I said, “Well,… Pete is supposed to be a guy, but he’s a nurse instead. I mean seriously, a nurse. He should have picked a manly career…like congressman or something.”

The turtle looked at me, and then his head retreated into his shell just as the door to my little prison swung open to reveal my captor standing with a man in a doctor’s coat.

My captor had a smug look on his face as he said, “Hello Senator Petrelli. It’s time for your probe.”

There was only one thing I could do…I screamed, “Help!!!! Turtle, Help!!!!”

I’m not sure if I imagined it or not, but I think I could hear Petey snickering from somewhere close by... The little fu#ker.

In Teh Mnid of a Cirminal

Teh odl Pretelli lday was uot clod.

Nromally, it wuold hvae been a good tihng. We cna't hvae cirminal matsermnids like hre on teh street, albe to sholpift socks at ayn momnet!

Btu there was a graeter evil to birng to an ned. So, I had no chioce btu to wake hre pu. Adn to do taht, I'd hvae to jruoney whree few men hvae gone, adn sruvived: isnide teh mnid of Msr. Pretell!i

I etnered itno Teh Martix laoding arae. "I need gnus," I siad, "ltos of gnus. Ooh! Adn a mangiyfing glass, Srhelokce Hlomes stlye!"

Teh wihte nohtingness fliled whit rows of sehlves. On teh sehlves were evrey friearm imagaenalbe. I garbbed a sdieram adn stepped isnide Teh Martix.

I arrvied in teh clod, drak hawllay fo Pirmatech. "Hlelo?" I claled uot.

Epmtiness.

Then, I saw Msr. Pretelli hadnffuced to a chiar. "Yuo know," I siad to her, "I was epxecting...I dno't know, fyling mokneys ro smoething in yuor mnid. Tihs is spruisingly...clam."

"Bihend yuo," seh siad.

I truned to see Dahpen, teh lveo of my lfie and frutue baby maam.

"Hlelo, Mr. Anderman," Dahpen siad.

"Waht are yuo diong heer?" I saked.

"I'm heer to ned yuo, Mr. Parkinson." Tehn, she satbbed me! She ran hre figners thruogh my hiar and siad, "Teh flith. I cna't stnad it."


"Wyh, Dahpen? Wyh?"

Tehn, Dahpen mrophed itno Athrur Pretelli.

"Oaky, now I'm copmletely lsot," I siad taking my lsat braethes. "If only Trutle was heer."

Tehn, Dahpen (teh real Dahpen) appread. "Yuo cna't die, Matt!" she creid nkeeling besdie me. "Teh Ocarle tlod me taht I wuold flal in lvoe whit Teh Neo. Yuo hvae to be Teh Neo becuase I lvoe yuo!"

Taht gvae me the pwoer to live! I laept otno my feet and dogded all teh blulets taht Athrur dind't shoot at me.

Tehn, Msr. Pretelli siad some tihngs to him. "Rebmemer taht tihng I do," seh siad sliming, "whit my tuongeu."

Athrur looked as thuogh he was giong to pkue. He suhddered and siad, "Fnie. Get uot of heer tehn."

Adn Msr. Pretelli, Dahpen adn I ecsaped Teh Martix. Btu smoetihng tlod me taht a wra was coming. I cna't say I'm looking froward to teh seqeul.

The League of Gorgeousness

We're gorgeous, kickass, and bad to the bone.

Figuratively, of course. We're the good guys, as you well know - what else but a team of superheroes would be chosen by ME to gift with my beautiful saving light?

It all started after beautiful-future-hubby Nathan flew off to meet with his great-great-great-great-mother, Angela Petrelli, who last I saw was asleep and dreaming of Chanel unicorns or something of that nature. The woman clearly needs help, so if someone could straighten out her head (and her so-last-century makeup), it would be most appreciated.

Having thus been given the unthrilling task of more Googling (okay, fine, meeting with the Justice Department - tomayto, tomahto), I started to reminisce about my superhero exploits defeating Doctor Buglizard.


I realized that I had not killed him, because that is what superheroes do, thereby leaving their hideous, scaled archnemeses a chance to nurse their oozing, pus-filled wounds and live out the rest of their ugly lives planning pointless, futile revenge.

Most of them don't succeed, of course, but there are a select few who do manage to rebuild their death rays and come back with a vengeance. Thinking quickly, I realized that I would need help if Doctor Buglizard was one of those people. I would need friends, allies who were just as dedicated as I am to eradicating ugliness once and for all.

I would need a Legion of Gorgeousness.

So I put on my best smile (which was harder than you'd think; there are so many to choose from), got past the security at Pinehearst by flashing my year-old identity card (along with a few other assets), and walked right up to the man in charge - Arthur Petrelli. I convinced him that the world needed a team of beautiful, attractive superheroes, and he gave me the four best people he had to offer. I grinned, thinking that they would be an excellent command corps for our legion... until I realized that they were the legion.

Four people. Four. Only four pretty people in the entire building. So few people to spread the Gospel of Gorgeous? Absolutely criminal.

Much like the first member of our team.



KNOX - The Brawler

Every superhero team has to have a wrong-side-of-the-tracks black dude who punches things, and our Mr. Knox fits the bill here perfectly. In addition to super-strength and the uncanny ability to inhale really loudly, he also possesses soft, luxuriant hair and the best collection of scalp-care products I've ever seen outside of my own home.







FLINT - The Dumb Blonde

All right, so he's not the brightest crayon in the crayon factory, but Flint does have blue fire powers capable of melting steel and setting hearts aflame. Besides, he's got that rugged bad-boy appeal that I know you mortal women fawn over, so he fulfills that side of the beauty quota.







ELLE - The Other Dumb Blonde

All right, so two is a bit much. But unlike Mr. Flint up there, Elle here has an IQ score that reaches into the double-digits, and is also a girl. This last fact is vitally important for attracting to our cause those few men who manage to avoid my radiant beauty. She shoots lightning, too. From everywhere.





SYLAR - The Distressing Damsel

Brains and beauty, and an appetite for both. Sylar's our heavy-hitter, and the fourth-most beautiful person on the team, next to me and my girls. Fear the power-mimicking action!

(Also note that I have refrained from referring to Sylar using any gendered pronouns. It is better that way.)


Legion of Gorgeousness, prepare to manscape!

XOXO,
Tracy Strauss

Pub Crawl

Hi. It's Tarot again. I'm still in the UK looking for Claude. Clyde the pigeon and I have been to every pub in London. There were a few that Clyde had to wait outside of and others that they couldn't have cared less. One place the folks were so drunk, that they thought Clyde was some kind of grey parrot! Good thing he actually likes crackers. They gave him a ton! Maybe that should be tonne? Any way, no luck at those, sadly. Now if I were looking for just any British bloke, I'd be successful. But I'm not. I'm looking for the one and only Claude.



I've tried ordering more than just soda's in the pubs too. No dice. :( It also doesn't help that the local blokes keep trying to buy me drinks. While I'm sure they mean well enough, the only British bloke I'm interested in is Claude. And I really mean that. I'm also worried about what might happen if I can't find him soon and not just because I miss him either. I can't quite "see" what the trouble is, even with my gift, but I just know it's not a good thing. Even after I've had a few, the feeling doesn't go away, which is odd because usually I'm totally relaxed when I'm waste- I mean had a couple, maybe a few too many. On the plus side I've learned to like the local flavours. With the lack of luck in London, I thought maybe I ought to travel a bit more. I also haven't been over here before and I am enjoying it. Other than the not finding Claude part. Which I'm not enjoying at all and don't enjoy on either side of the Pond.

Clyde and I have gone as far north as Manchester and even tried a few pubs in nearby Salford. Nice place but no luck finding the invisible man. I'm tempted to hit Blackpool tomorrow. Something tells me that place is kinda important but I'm not sure why. I don't recall Claude mentioning it, though. I think it came to me in a dream. I also know I heard it mentioned somewhere but I can't seem to recall where just now. Plus I'm curious about it too. I wonder how many beers... I mean pubs they have there.


I know that given his gift, I could be looking right at Claude and not see him. I have to wonder though, I know he can hold his liquor incredibly well (he'd have to given his fondness for it) , but how drunk would Claude have to be before he went visible? Could he be totally wasted and still be cloaked? On the plus side, at least I have Clyde for company. I just wish the local blokes would stop trying to pick me up. I'm seriously considering moving over here, so Claude, if you're reading this and want to stay, that won't be a problem with me. Bring on the shepherds pie! Bring on the tea! Bring on the pubs! Cherrio!

Knox Says, TIME TO MAKE THE DOUGHNUTS PART ONE

I wanted to tell y'all about this thing that I just got into. I don't know exactly how to put it, but I'm a baker! Yeah, ol' scary boy Knox is makin' yums yums. Kinda soft n' sissy like but hey, its relaxin' as hell!

I kinda 'walked' into this whole bakin' thang. Well, no, I didn't really 'walk' I actually blasted or pushed. I don't know what you would say for makin' a door fly 50 feet off its hinges. But that's really the gist of it.

Mr. P was all like 'Scary Black man whom I adore!' N' I was like 'Yea Mr. P?!' N' he was all ol' n' crusty n' he tol me, 'Go kill fast white chick n' her fat cop boyfriend!'

'Ain't that fat cop the fat baby head games one n' only son?' I asked.

'Yes he is.' Mr. P said 'Now go and Kill my African Prince of Fear!'

So i went all the way to NYC listnin' to my iTunes Library (all 258 Gigs) on my all new iPhone and then I went to some ol' run down apartment and BAM! KNOCKED DOWN THAT DOOR!

And this is what I have to see inside:

TWO MISMATCHED WHITE PEOPLE NECKIN'! And then they get all scared (which i like) n' then they both try n' act all bad ass on me (which I don't like).

Listen people, if I am sent to kill you please follow this simple list of rules...

The 'JUST SHUT UP AND DIE' List by KNOX.
Rules to make my life and the end of yours much more enjoyable. :)

1. SHUT THE HELL UP!

2. Understand that your life is going to end and become afraid.

3. Sing whatever song I tell you to sing, if you do not know the song ask me and I will play a snippet of it off my iPod. Like right now if I were to kill you I'd ask you to sing Manson's Sweet Dreams are made of This off his Smells Like Children album. It lightens the mood.

4. DO NOT TALK TO ME WITH A BAD SCAR FACE IMPRESSION! it will not save your life, it will make the end of it longer and more, much more, unpleasant.

5. Spiderman's a hero, BATMAN'S A HERO, hell even Aquaman's a hero. YOU are not. PLEASE, think about it.

-End of list.

Good, glad to have that outa the way. And, as you can guess Fatty cop n' speedy white girl did not follow my simple little list. NO, speedy tried to run past me.

Now normally I don't smack ah bitch. I don't. It's just somethin' that Knox does not do. But DAMN that woman had it comin'! I said somethin' like 'I'm here to kill you.' or somethin' else all scary like I always do n' the girl has to run past me! I mean, Come on! I coulda taken down Mike Tyson in his prime right then and she thinks she can just run right on by?!

Okay, I closelined the girl. I felt sorta bad but like I said, she had it comin' an after she droped to the floor I was givin' my new carear in life! It was after that bleach blond mop hit the hardwood top that I became a baker! THATS RIGHT! I MADE MY FIRST DOUGHNUT! and it was outa ah cop!
How you like that?! HA! I call it 'copohnut' ! It's a workin' title. Here's the ingreadeants...

1 300lb. cop
1/2 cup of fear
2oz. snide remarks

Add those togeather in a small, cramped, dirty as hell apartment and PUNCH A HOLE through the cops stomach.

There ya go, Copohnut! HA! I love me some copohnut! The only problem is cleaning up the mess...

Me? I just leave it for someone else.
Adios-knox.

Family Rules

So, I'm like part of a whole bunch of families now. And, you know, families have rules. It's just how they work or something. Since all of them seem to be coming together lately, I decided to check on how I'm doing, y'know?

I grew up in the Bennet family. We only have one rule really. "shoot first, ask later," That and don't put pepper in green bean caserole. But then, Dad said mom's crazy rules don't really count. Anyway, Dad's raised me like, really well. He won't let me have a real gun yet because he's saving it for like, some weird family ritual, so I'm kinda stuck with a taser. Remember the black-hole dude? I totally tased him right away. And don't tell anyone, but last year, Uncle-Super-Cute Peter gave me a gun to shoot him... And I still have it. Sometimes, I sneak out to practice. I'm like, really good. I swear, if I see my Crazy-Girly-Brain-Stealing-But-Still-Weirdly-Attractive-Uncle Sylar again I'm totally going to shoot him in his tender place. But don't tell Peter. He's kinda weird about me shooting people for some reason.

More about My really cute emo uncle later. We're moving on to the next family I found out about. I'm going in chronological order, okay? Anyway, the Gordon family doesn't have many rules either. They really don't have anything official really, but Bio-Mom did sit me down a few times to impart some wisdom. "Always use a condom, okaaay?" She drawled. She also told me never to let my brother out of my sight because you never know when he's going to do something unreasonably moronic. But hello? It's not like my brother shoots flames or anything.

But the Petrellis? They are totally big on rules. It's crazy. The other day after our little team meeting, Bio-Gramma pulled me aside and dumped these tablets in my arms. "Our family seems to be continuously growing. It won't be a bad thing if you all abide by a few simple rules," Okay. These simple rules like, weigh a ton, but here's the gist:

RULE 1: A Petrelli must always dress as a Petrelli should. The dress code is: Fabulous.

Dude! That totally isn't a problem! I'm a cheerleader. I've always had to dress in only the most up to date clothes. So, to keep up with this all important rule, I made Peter take me shopping. He totally had fun, but coudn't show it because of his emo thing.

RULE 2: A Petrelli-

This one was scratched out. I could make out somehting about socks though.

RULE 3: A Petrelli may only mate with one on the same level of attractiveness as they are. This is to Preserve our family legacy of beauty.

Yeah, yeah, Bio-Dad has this down. He told me like a million times. He even brought pictures. In fact the entire family is all kinds of sexy. Except for the grandparents. But they're old; they don't count. Anyway, I'm doing alright aren't I? My last boyfriend might not have had the balls or spine to take down the company, but he was cute, right? Anyway, this leads me to...

RULE 4: As the Petrelli family is Italian, it is perfectly acceptable to have borderline inappropriate incestuous inuendoes. However, blatent and indecreet lovemaking within the family is unacceptable. We do not live in trailers. That means YOU Peter.

Jeez. That's like, really ambigious. I mean, it doens't take into account illigitimate daughters and their uncles. It doesn't say ANYthing about people who's Bio-Moms actually live in a trailer. And It certaintly doesn't fit with what Bio-Mom said, "If you want it and you have protection, by all means, sleep with it,"

I'm trying my best here! It's like, really stressful. I think Uncle Super Cute Peter and I are going back into the sewers now... He said he had some poetry to recite for me...

I'm awake!

It's about damned time! Not that I didn't enjoy my beauty sleep, but it seems I missed out on all of the fun. Peter has seemed to have developed a sense of humor about his unfortunate situation that his father has bestowed upon him.



*That's your brother's Baby Momma! Show some respect!!*

Speaking of which, Gabriel seems proud to be slumming and taking on Peter's sloppy seconds.



*I think the tape on her teet is such a lovely touch. Who needs jewelery when you have painters tape to adorn yourself with? Way to keep it classy, Miss Bishop!


And Nathan, thank the Lord, finally isn't taking any more crap from anyone.



*Senator Petrelli sez "Oh No You Didn't!"*

And Arthur? He doesn't need to worry about me...he has pick of the week.



*I have no idea who she is, but all I know is if she's keeping him happy, she's keeping him out of my perfectly coiffed hair. Thanks be to you, Tramp of the Week!*

But, alas, I have to pay homage and proper thanks to the man who brought me from The Land on Nod back to consciousness of this wretched life. My humble thanks and hats off to you...Detective Parkman.



Again with the street slinging. I don't understand these kids today. But with a gift like his, he can keep it realzz on the streetzz yo to his hearts content.

You'll have to excuse me though. I have a lot of lost time to make up for. I have hell to raise, skulls to crack, soup to make, and a world to save. God help us all.



G-G-G Gang Signs!
Mrs. A. Petrelli

OMG Attention!

OMG! Finally! After being an outcast for like, ever, I'm finally gettin' some attention! I mean, it's silly. Why wouldn't a brain-eating serial killer get any attention? That's like, the coolest thing anyone in the whole world could do! You like hunting? Well, deer are cute! You shouldn't kill them! Kill an ugly person instead! Or if you like delicious delicacies? Brain is the way to go! See! How cool is that?

Anyways, some peeps are finally recognizing how truly awesome I am. First it was my mommy, and now, I've been reunited with my daddy! And boy is he hot, isn't he? What I wouldn't give to get HIM in the sack.

Anyways, my daddy came to me in his super sweet company and said, "Gabriel! I'd like to take you out for a night on the town...get to know each other."

"You...you really mean it?" I asked with tears in my eyes. "You...care about me!"

"Sure, Gabe! That, and I think you'd make a great wing man."

"Ok daddy, let's go pick up some hot boys!"

"You mean, girls, right?" he called after me as I scampered down the hall to get ready.

Haha. Silly daddy. Girls were just a side dish! Sexy man meat, now that was the main attraction. I did my best to get ready. I did my hair up sexily, put on a cute little outfit, and activated my cleavage generation powers, before meeting my dad at the entrance.



"I guess you did mean boys," daddy responded. And did I ever! He stood there, thinking for a minute. "Well, at least you won't be threatening," he said, shrugging and off we went.

We got to the club, and it was like, full of skanky girls. They were all over daddy! I tried to save him from the embarrassment a couple of times, but those harpies always sunk their hair in. Crazy sharp hair! I stood over by the bar, and every time my daddy made eye contact with me, I sighed heavily and dramatically. He paid no attention! He was under the sirens'...um...boob allure!

I had to save him. One was rubbing her grossness all over my daddy. I needed to stop it! With my super mind trick, I chopped her head off. Blood squirted all over my daddy. I giggled.

"Oh, Gabriel!" he shouted, and we ran out of the club! "What'd you do that for?"

"I wasn't having fun, daddy! I want to have fun! You need to make up for years of not spoiling me by spoiling me! I'm your daughter."

"You're my son."

I shrugged. "Tomayto, tomahto." What a clever references to tomatoes I had made! I truly was Peter's sister. Or whatever.

"Fine, Gabriel! Where do you want to go?" I smiled. I had the perfect place.



There. This setting was much better. I giggled as the men rubbed their sexiness against my daddy. He was red with excitement! He got so excited, that he even punched me in the face on the way home! I love my daddy.