Burnt Toast Diner

Mother's Day: A vile travesty.

2008-05-11T21:00:00.000-06:00

Mother's Day.

What is this shenanigans? It's Mother's Day! I should wake up to brunch, a dozen roses, and a loving card from my two sons. Instead I find this taped to my bathroom mirror...

Am I really that bad? Am I Faye Friggin Dunaway? My sons have never seen me running around the house with Ponds all over my face, screaming NO WIRE HANGERS! Do I look like this!!? Have I ever done this??

I admit I've done this....

But certainly never THIS...

I'm not one of those OTHER Company parents who completely wiped their behinds with their children. I didn't walk out the door on my tubby son with nothing more than a head pat and $120 to carry him through a weeks worth of tasty treats at the Winchel's. My children are not electric psychopaths in need of Haldol to the point that they even freak out Sylar. My children aren't pining over stick figure drawing druggies, they just pine over the ones that pining. Ridiculous shenanigans!

If their father was in a grave, he'd be turning in it.

I say to my two sons to take personal responsibility for themselves, once and for all! Their powers are not my fault on purpose, and it isn't my problem that they aren't mentally equipped to deal with them. So Nathan can fly. Whoop de do! So can anyone on a good acid trip. So Peter is absorbent like a giant "emo" sponge. (Is that what you kids are saying these days? Emo? It was the hair, wasn't it?)

Additionally, people, and by people I mean MY CHILDREN, need to get over Kirby plaza already. Common sense would tell anyone with a brain that hasn't been turned into a canape by Mr. Gray, that if Peter has been in contact with his niece that HE CAN HEAL HIMSELF AND HENCE HEAL AFTER SAID EXPLOSION. In as much, since he's been with Nathan his WHOLE LIFE, it's his problem that he couldn't simply propel upwards and save the city himself. But Nathan had to butt in and screw everything. Peter could have been a hero. Nathan could have had a government job with full benefits. I could have had a cocktail and a hot date with Daniel Linderman. But NO! No one listens to me. No matter how fist over arse backwards my dastardly plans are, I know what I am doing and I am ALWAYS right! Do not question my authoritay!

<--Perhaps this is something Parkman Jr. can aspire to one day. The thought stealing maniac!

I'll give you wire hangers! Brats! How dare they! I was forced to make my own brunch! At least I'm skilled enough to make my cappuccino look pretty, as seen here...

Then I went out and stole some socks to self soothe.

Super Human Spoiled Brats! Hmph!

Musings in my confusion

2008-05-10T06:00:00.000-06:00

So I'm kinda laying low for the time being. After winning the big jackpot and my problems with being a decoy, it's best I stay out of the spotlight a while. The Christmas party was a nice break... I get the impression more covert help will required of me soon, so I'd best get a start on that by going completely stealth, but not nearly as stealthy as my hero, Claude. *sigh* I think he's still annoyed at me for what happened while I was playing decoy so he could go to two funerals. I adore him but he's not the most trusting individual, not that I blame him. I have noticed the way he scowls any time Mr. Bennet is around. Claude won't talk about it, but I did see some sort of betrayal in my cards when I did a reading on it. I wish I knew how I could help.

Of course the fact that Claude rolls his eyes any time I try to offer help or even try to quietly approach him isn't very encouraging. For a man who's invisible, it seems the rest of us are transparent to him! Maybe I ought to just get him some beer and "shut it."

The only problem with that is, if I even look like I'm headed for a place that sells beer or alcohol, Claude finds a way to divert me from it. I still don't remember much from when I got drunk while in disguise, but I can tell you I'm avoiding drinking myself. Claude handles it just fine. Wish I could say the same for my handling of our...well whatever this is. I still can't even define it. Don't partners in crime or whatever talk to each other?

If I thought it wouldn't draw too much attention, I'd start my own business, not that I'm big on crowds, or that I like reading for money, but, I think it would be a lot less suspicious than trying to keep the casino gig going any longer. It would also keep my mind off of things. I'm also a lot less likely to get into trouble if I'm busy. I'd go back to Nursing, but the schedule is so limiting. I did love it but not being able to come and go as I pleased was rather confining as was trying to sleep so I'd be sharp for work. I'm nocturnal by nature, which was good for me as nights are not as quiet as one might think. Sleep is hard to come by for me as usually I get awakened or I have horrible nightmares of things to come. I'm glad I retired early from Nursing even if I'm now a seer who can't see her own future.

And Claude, if you're reading this, you should know I did have a dream about you and it wasn't a good one. I won't post it here as I dunno who else might read it, although I get the impression you'd rather read it than talk to me :( .

Push Hard

2008-05-02T17:12:00.005-06:00

“Hanson, where the hell are you?” the Lieutenant screamed into his phone.

“You’re not going to believe this, chief,” I replied into mine. “I went to guard presidential candidate Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator like you asked, but then we went to South Dakota and rode a giant terrorist airship towards Area 52 until he and I brought it down. Pretty wild day.”

“I don’t care about your day. I don’t care if your paper boy brought you a hot fudge sundae with extra fudge!” he howled back. “I’ve got a job for you, you need to get to the Pookatoomi Building in Los Angeles, there’s a Die Hard situation going on there.”

“A Die Hard situation? Aw geez.” It seems like since that movie came out way back when, whenever a cop is in another city and some little trouble starts brewing, he immediately takes off his shoes and heads into the air ducts. “Can’t you send Agent Johnson?”

“Agent Johnson, Smith, Jones, and Shivolski are all on assignment, you’re the best of what we’ve got left Hanson,” he growled. “Don’t screw this up.”

“But what about catching Sylar?” I asked. “This is the Sicko Psycho Serial Killer Task Force, after all.”

“Don’t get me started on that Sylar crap. You’re still on my list about that crazy game show, losing to some guy in granny glasses and a soup bowl haircut. Now get to that Pookatoomi Building and take care of that situation!”

I said yes sir and quickly made my way to my new destination. The Pookatoomi Chocolate Company is a gigantic multinational candy conglomerate that started somewhere in Japan. I stalked up to what appeared to be the highest ranking local cop there and asked for a sitrep.

“There’s half a dozen terrorists keeping the people hostage,” he explained. “We have a man inside, John McStane, we’ve been talking to him over the radio.”

“Gimme that,” I took the radio from his hand. “Officer, this is Agent Audrey Hanson, FBI. I am here to negotiate the release of the chocolate hostages. What are you doing up there?”

“Who me? I just came here to drop the kids off at the pool,” he wisecracked back over the radio.

“Officer, what are you talking about?” I replied. “Do you have excrement for brains?”

“No, I brought my two kids here to swim in the condo pool,” he replied. “After I left them there, I noticed a guy with a machine gun and European shoes. Naturally I deduced that he was a European terrorist and I was right. So I dropped some mud on him.”

“You what?”

“There were a bunch of giant planters in the hallway here,” he replied. “I knocked him out with one and then I took his gun, took off my shoes, and went to the air ducts to get the others.”

“Listen here, Mister,” I barked into the radio. “We can’t have you going all poop crazy on us in there. My priority is to get those hostages out of there and safe. We can’t have you squeezing one out every time you see a terrorist. They’ll find you and then you’ll be up poop creek.”

“Hold on, I see one taking a steamer,” he replied. “Don’t worry, I got him, I dropped some logs on him.”

“You what?” I screamed. I looked at the police sergeant who just shrugged.

“He was walking through the steam room and I knocked him out with a giant tub of Lincoln Logs,” he explained. “There’s another in the bakery pinching a loaf of bread.”

“McStane!” I yelled.

“Don’t worry, I squirted Hershey’s syrup all over him and then knocked him out.”

“Dammit McStane, I need you out of there now!” I yelled.

“Oh my God,” he replied. “They’ve got a mule in there. They’re burning the mule! I repeat they’re burning a mule!”

“Why would they---?” My thought trailed off as I saw the flaming beast come running out the front door. Before anyone could react, the poor creature exploded right in front of the door, sending a SWAT team flying in all directions. “What kind of a maniac would burn a mule in an office lobby like that?”

“I don’t know,” the police sergeant shrugged. “Those guys in there must be nuts.”

“Wait a minute, the Sea Pickle!” McStane called over the radio.

“What?”

“The S.S. Sea Pickle is docked at the building next door,” he explained. “These guys burned the mule over here so they can take the service tunnel over to the dock to float away in the Sea Pickle.”

“Sergeant, send the SWAT team over to the dock,” I ordered. “Have them stop the Sea Pickle!”

A squad of police rushed over to the next building. There were a few quick bursts of gunfire then things grew quiet.

“We got ‘em,” the SWAT leader announced on the radio. “The remaining terrorists are now in our custody.

“Wow, that was some fancy deducing,” I complemented McStane. “How’d you figure that all out?”

“Just lucky I guess,” he replied. “I’m just an analog cop in a digital world.”

“Well, you’re all right in my book,” I answered? “In fact, you’re number one. No, better make that Number two.”

Wedded Bliss

2008-04-28T08:52:00.000-06:00

Everyone thinks they know everything there is to know about me. They don't. As previously established, they know nothing. I however, know everything.

In as much, from time to time I may find it in my blackened and dead heart to enlighten the few souls who stumble across my wretched page here on BTD looking for a good laugh at my expense. I am tickled pink to have the chance to shatter your pre conceived image about me. I have all summer to do it. That way, come September, with all of this soul sharing, hopefully you won't want to look at me and throw up in your mouth.

Unlike my children.

But I digress...

As some of you may or may not know, I was a teenaged runaway bride. I knew it all, and Arthur was a lucky bastard. (A play on words, of course.) We were young, gifted, and in love! An impulsive craving for pancakes with real maple syrup, as opposed to that dreck you get in New York diners, led these two young "G's" crusin' up the east coast," and before I know it, I'm a child bride, about to wed be at this special and sacred place...

It was perfect, one stop shopping. The cherry on the cake would have been if I didn't have to get out of the car. But we all know that proper drive thru weddings are in Vegas, and that Daniel wouldn't have been happy to set the tone for shot gun weddings for generations to come with in our kind. From what I have heard from the Primatech grapevine, Niki Sanders and D.L. Hawkins nuptial at the Pink Church of Elvis and what have you was bad enough. Nothing says true love more than Daisy Dukes, red platform shoes, and trucker hats. Not that Arthur and I were ones to talk, but we certainly didn't mean to start a trend.

I have spared my sons the details of my DAAAAAAYYYYYY; my camouflage inspired dress, bouquet of dandelions picked right from the store parking lot, their father's "I HITCHED MY HUSSY AT HUSSEY'S" t-shirt, which he proudly wore until it stank so badly I finally suggested he let it burn as an offering to any God that would listen to us in forty years time.

The fine folks at Hussey's were kind enough to throw us an impromptu shower that I will never forget. It was small and simple, just desert...

and drinks...

.

All in all, it was a lovely day. Of course, when we returned home my parents were furious. Certainly what we did was the opposite of keeping up with the Jonses'. But Arthur and I didn't care. Screw the Jonses', their powerless souls served us no purpose. It was a new era, and it was going to be keeping up with the Petrelli's time! I simply handed my parents their ding dongs in a paper bag and told them to give me my heir loomed pearls! I was leaving with my husband!!

Forty years later, here we are.

Yes, that was the plan alllll along, "putting the FUN in dysfunctional." Now, please pass me my can of Schlitz and my package of white powered sugar Little Debbie Donut Gems. I have the memory of a blissful marriage to celebrate.

Bitter? No, not me. Not at all!

Fnu wiht teh Ladeis

2008-04-26T11:55:00.000-06:00

Bieng snigle now has been graet. Btu I hvaen't had a cahnce to raelly ejnoy it, waht wiht all teh wolrd-svaing I do.

Mhoinder wsa agianst me dtaing. He siad I shuold hlod uot for Jnaice. Btu I tihnk he raelly jsut wnats me fro himslef. He's a jaeluos parnet.

Smoe of yuo may hvae ntoiced taht I hvae dylesxai. I'm aslo a bit on teh haevy side. Tihs has awlays mdae it hrad fro me to meet grils. Tehy dno't wnat a huksy retrad. Ecxept fro Jnaice. Seh loved me fro woh I am.

Btu seh's gnoe now. I hda to mvoe on. So, I called Jnaice to get dtaing avdice.

"Why wuold I hlep yuo pikc up women?" she aksed.

"I'm lonley, ho so lonley," I repleid, plyaing no her haert stirngs.

Fnially seh caved. She sgugetsed taht I tyr using Mloly to meet grils. "Tehy lvoe a flamiy man," she siad.

So, I derssed up nicley and haeded out on teh twon whit my apodted duahgter.

"Slime at teh pretty ladeis, Mloly" I tlod her.

"Gha! I'm nto Mloly. Spot tuoching me. I wnat to go hmoe."

Tehn, I ntoiced an atraratcive flemae looking my way. I aslo ntoiced taht tihs little gril I bourght whit me wsan't Mloly. "Waht's yuor name?" I aksed.

"Sammi! Lte me go!"

Teh atraratcive flemae was aporapching. I hdan't time to fnid Mloly. Sammi wuold hvae to do. "Slime adn be ncie adn I'll buy yuo ice craem."

"KO!"

As teh lady wakled up to me, I piotned at Sammi and siad, "Hye, look. Tihs is my kid. Yep, I'm a flamiy man, a flamiy man all teh way. Lvoe me teh kids, yep. So much fnu, chlidern. I'm snigle too, by teh way. Wnat to dtae me? Plaese, dtae me! Plaese!"

Teh lady garbbed Sammi by teh hnad. "Cmoe no, sweety. Lte's get away form teh creepy man."

"Btu Mom!" seh wihned, "he pormised me ice craem."

She tehn hit me whit her pruse. "Ncie one, sikco! Rael ogirnal. Saty away form my duahgter!"

Confessions of a shamless shoplifter.

2008-04-21T09:27:00.003-06:00

Please allow me to reintroduce myself. I'm Angela Petrelli. As you may recall, some time ago I was arrested for shoplifting a pair of socks. Of course Nathan was mortified when he came for my release. "What could I possibly need so bad that I had to steal it?" This is what he wants to know. Not WHY would I steal, but WHAT.

I had two replies to him:
#1: I believe the correct question is, 'What could I possibly need so BADLY that I had to steal it?" Did I raise a troglodyte? Did he skip English class before my very eyes? Not the sharpest tack in the box. But the ladies claim he's "ripped," and he can fly. I can sleep better at night knowing that he's got that going for him.
#2: The answer to his question is Socks!

Yes, socks! It's the cheap thrill of the five finger discount of lightly lifting the perfect and divine foot shroud. Have a look at it from these old, tired eyes. I married at 16 to be married for 41 years to an emotionally stunted man who left me widowed at his own hands at 57. At least I wasn't left intestate. (That means with out a will, you perverts.)

At this age, clearly I'm not going to don a bobby top and hot pants to slut my way through the latest watering hole to make it in this month's issue of Time Out New York. I need to get my ya-ya's too. My drug of choice; a foot fetish which manifests in pair after pair of luscious socks. All of which are neatly tucked away in my Chanel clutch as I sashay out the door past the store "securite."

I'd like to take this moment to share some of my favorite finds with you. Call me a voyeur. What can I say?

These were an obvious choice to add to my collection. Part of the beauty of these is that they actually came as a three pack. More so, I got them at Daffy's. Pret a Porter in the slum? Classic! They had to come home to Momma.

You are looking at the infamous socks of said shoplifting arrest. The fringed trimmed yarn alone makes them worth the trouble. How was I to know the other lady planning on shoplifting them for herself would turn me in to get even. Women are so catty, no? I may have went to jail, but I got my socks. As for my traitor, clearly there were other socks to be stolen, so she is no longer with us.

Look at this delightful sock. I had to have it. Simply had to. I didn't care if there was only one! That little runt wasn't too eager to part with it, even with all of the "suggesting" that I did. She too, is no longer with us. As for the sock, it is on my perfectly pedicured tootsie as I type.

How do I love these socks? Let me count the ways! Perhaps tenfold, one for each toe. Or perhaps its because they say "HO," and I like to wear them in front of Nathan whilst he's on his monthly extortion call to that bleach blonde hussy of a baby momma in Texas.

What's that you say? Christmas spirit? Do I seem like a woman who has time for such things? I'm busy too making and breaking lives...and stealing socks.

I managed to get Victoria Pratt to embrace the glory that socks can bring to our empty, hollow souls. Her striped ones are very fitting for her. But mine are better. They say "JUICY!"

These were stolen from my grandchild Claire. Any one who doesn't appreciate the fact that they've just discovered that they come from old money, and is getting a free trip to Paris on top of it, does not deserves classic Argyle socks.

Finally, these are my crowning glory. I feel they bring me good chi; like imported incense at a Shinto Shrine. I find they are the most inspiring when worn to make those hard core choices that impact not only my immediate family, but the world as well. Fleeing town while everyone chars like weenies on a beach grill was a wise choice made whilst wearing my bunny socks. When the chips are down, bunny socks are a moral imperative . One cannot rely on their friends, any of the 11 of them. But one can ALWAYS rely on their bunny socks.

Yours in cashmere covered foot goodness,
Mrs. Angela Petrelli

Mission Accomplished

2008-04-18T11:11:00.000-06:00

"Sylar has been defeated. Primatech Paper Company is victorious!"

The crowd cheered. As I made my way down from the podium I shook the hands of several young paper enthusiasts. They shouted out to me, "Great job, Mr. Bennet!" and "Four more years!"

Clearly my decision to participate in Sylar's Bachelor was the right one, even if I didn't capture the world's most dangerous brain-eater.

"What do you mean you didn't capture him, Noah?" Bob asked.

"He got away," I explained thoroughly.

"What do you mean he got away, Noah?"

"He escaped," I added.

"But what about your mission accomplished speech, Noah?" he asked.

It was clear that my boss was going to require more details. I decided to start from the beginning...

I told him about Ron Paul stealing my luggage, my date with Sarah Michelle Gellar, my boy band, Samuel L. Jackson being eaten by a shark, making a fruit salad out of Richard Simmons, talking to Mother Gray's ghost, Samuel L. Jackson cutting his way out of the shark with a lightsaber, and finally how an FBI agent and I made it to the final two.

Primatech teaches us that people manipulation is the key to any good paper sale. Also, we tend to work in pairs. So, naturally, I teamed up with and used Agent Hanson to ensure my capture of Sylar.

"But you failed to capture him, Noah," King Midas rudely interrupted.

Unfortunately, a manipulator is only as good as the weak-minded fools he has at his disposal, and my fool apparently got her FBI badge from a cereal box and affirmative action.

I specifically told her to wait outside the window with a butterfly net. Everyone knows that Sylars can't use their magic inside a butterfly net.

By using my own son (by marriage) as a decoy, I managed to get the jump on Sylar, scaring him out the window after being shot in the kidney with mind bullets. (That's telekinesis, Kyle...Lyle...whatever his name is. He was dead, so my explanation fell on death ears.)

Trusting that Agent Hanson had the fugitive entangled in her entomological trap, I decided to look after my wound. I had some leftover Adam blood in my pocket.

"Looks like there's only enough for two," I said to my son, recently turned corpse. "I better take it all just to be on the safe side."

The blood healed me perfectly, or so I thought. On my way downstairs to check on Agent Hanson, I had to stop to pee thirty-seven times! My kidney was still in bad shape, but I could take care of that later.

I walked outside and found my partner crawling aimlessly away. In the half hour since Sylar leaped out of the window, she managed to crawl approximately two and a half feet. She had failed me. Sylar was gone, despite her bold-fisted determination to continue crawling after him.

I called The Haitian who arrived quickly and mind-zapped her.

Before heading back in to the office, I remembered I had a present waiting for me upstairs. I went back into Sylar's bedroom and opened the brain box. There was a note.

Brain-Eating Instructions

Step One: Eat Brain

Love,
Sylar

I stared at George Clooney's encephelon, and the frontal lobe eyed me back without ever blinking. Probably due to the lack of eyelids.

After a couple minutes, I picked up the brain and took a bite. "Holy Cerebellum Supper, Batman. This is delicious! Oh, brother where art thou been all my life?" At that moment, I understood why Sylar killed. Unlike me, he didn't do it for sport or pleasure or paranoia or to make paper sales. No, he did it for the divine taste of evolved brain. I finished my meal and left the mansion.

They were everywhere! As soon as I stepped outside, I was surrounded. I could barely get to my Nissan. It must have been the Clooney brains. I gained the power of fame.

"Yeah, about that, Noah," Bob again interrupted. "We're going to need to remove the ability from you. Fame isn't ideal for a Primatech agent, Noah."

"But how can I slip back into anonymity? I didn't eat Stephen Baldwin brains, ya know."

"Simple, Noah. We stage a drunken foible, then say you checked into rehab."

It was a good a plan, but I really had to pee. "Can we hurry this up? I really need to pee."

"Oh, yeah, Noah," Bob said. "Your kidney. Should we try some Claire blood?"

"Doesn't work."

"Well," he tossed the vial at me, "take it for Lyle, Noah."

"Lyle?"

"Your son, Noah."

I was about to toss it back to him when I had a great idea. If I heal Lyle, then trick him into thinking we share a father-son bond, maybe I could convince him to give me his kidney. Then, after the surgery, I could lock him out of my life forever.

"Thanks," I said.

"We still have a problem, Noah. Sylar is still out there. He is a threat, a growing threat, to all of humanity, Noah."

He was right, of course. There was that. But I had also won the competition. Sure, it may seem like an arbitrary victory, but it's still a victory.

Bob berated me for a few minutes, then realized that essentially he's blackmailing me into working for him, so he backed off. Beggars can't be performance-based evaluators.

Sylar's on the loose. My son is temporarily dead. Samuel L. Jackson killed a shark. And I am Sylar's Bachelor!

Mission accomplished enough.

Agent Audrey Hanson, FBI. So this is how it all happened...

2008-04-17T08:59:00.016-06:00

“You what?” the chief bellowed.

“It’s all right there in the after action report, sir.” I indicated to the paperwork. “That’s exactly how it went down.”

“No no no no no, Hanson,” he replied gruffly. “Explain it all to me. Explain it all nice and slow so when I go home tonight and kiss my wife and pet my dog and my wife says to me ‘Hey honey, how was your day?’ I don’t have to answer that I kicked a deranged lunatic out of my office on her white, pasty tushie!”

“That’s what happened,” I insisted.

“Just… explain it,” he growled on the verge of exasperation.

“OK, this is what happened,” I began. I thought back to my actions of the past several months and what went down at the end of the Sylar’s Bachelor show. “As you know, I was one of twelve contestants. It was a tough competition, much tougher than when I was shot putting in college.”

“Get to it.”

“I worked my way through all the competitors, and it was a… an unusual bunch I have to tell you,” I continued. “There were little girls and 500 year old men and some kind of space vampire or something. Anyway, there was one guy with these goofy glasses who looked pretty straight up to me. In fact, he almost looked like a fed himself but I knew he wasn’t because all he freaking talked about was paper. Paper this and stationery that. He went on and on, I tell you.

“He’s the only guy there that I determined was even remotely trustworthy,” I explained. “I knew that when it came time to take Sylar down, we’d only have minutes to act, so I recruited him to help me. I loaned him my gun—”

“You just gave him your piece?” Chief asked furiously.

“Not my issued handgun, one of my extras,” I clarified. “So I work my way through the competition, and it was something I tell you. I had dinner with his dead mother, I dated Carla Gallo (which was pretty hot, I admit), and I made the greatest all girl boy band evah!”

“Ever?”

“Ev-ah!” I said. “We get down to the last two contestants and guess who it turns out to be after all? The goofball in the glasses and me. At this point, I am dismayed to report that he won, but despite that, I knew it was my duty to get to Sylar. So we have our plan: Bennet flushes Sylar out and then we take him down.”

“Bennet?”

“Yeah, that was the glasses guy’s name,” I shrugged. “Noah Bennet, I believe.”

“Noah Bennet…” The Chief scratched his chin as if he was trying to remember something.

“Do you know him?”

“Nope, never met him. Go on.”

“So I’m all decked out and ready to go and I’m standing outside under the window waiting for Bennet’s signal when all of a sudden something comes flying out of it and lands right on top of me. It turns out that Bennet went rogue on the op and it was Sylar who flew out the window. The impact fractured my spleen and sprained my thighs.”

“Fractured your spleen,” the chief repeated.

“Yeah, I almost died from Spleenal Contusion,” I added. “You know SC.”

“The silent killer,” my boss replied under his breath.

“I think Sylar’s legs broke from the fall, so he crawls off and I can’t stand so crawl right after him. Did you know that I won best low crawler back in Langley?” I asked.

“I am aware of your record.”

“So I crawled right after him yelling ‘Freeze FBI!’ in a loud, clear voice so he could hear me.”

“That’s procedure,” he admitted.

“I was close to him, so close.” I balled up my fist and clenched my jaw at the thought. “I was right on top of him when all of a sudden, everything went black.”

“Everything went black,” the chief repeated.

“Next thing I know, I’m in the middle of the desert,” I said. “I mean, in the middle of nowhere wearing nothing but this burlap sack of a dress and no Sylar to be found anywhere. So I looked up to the heavens and I called out ‘I’ll get you Sylar! I’ll get you if I have to chase you across the globe or into space or on Sylar’s Bachelor 2! And when I do, I’m going to grab that ruggedly handsome yet disconcertingly creepy face of yours and I’m going to bring it to justice for the crimes you’ve committed, you crazy, special person who just wants to be held, lol!’”

The chief looked at me.

“That’s what happened,” I said. “That’s everything.”

The chief looked at me in silence for a moment.

“Get the hell out of my office!” he roared.

“But what abou—”

“Just get out! I don’t want to hear any more!”

Sylar's Bachelor: And The Winner Is...

2008-04-08T05:28:00.005-06:00

It's like, finally over! You've all sent in your votes and the decision has been made! Now, it's time to inform the winner of his/her victory!

I like, sat up in my room in Sylar's Mansion, completely naked, laying on my bed. There were like, scented candles, satin sheets, and a brain in a cooler in the corner of the room with instructions on how to give yourself powers lol.

I had sent a note to the winner that they like, won, and I was waiting for them to get their winning butt up to the winner's circle of winning. And by winner's circle I meant my bed. And by winning, I meant sex.

The door creaked open. I waited with anticipation, when a masculine, muscular figure emerged.

"Agent Hanson?" I asked, inquisitionally (I'm smart enough to use big words like that lol), "You're not supposed to be here!"

"No, Gabriel, it's me, your old pal, Mr. Glasses, the winner. I've come to um...you know...the birds and bees, but with some equipment missing."

"Oh Mr. Glasses! You look especially manly tonight! Anyways, the way I look at it is that we have like, extra equipment!"

Mr. Glasses shuddered. "Well, Gabriel, I'm happy to say, that we won't be doing any of that," he pulled out a gun.

Ooooh, sex toys!, I thought! But before I could drop my pants, Mr. Glasses like, totally shot me in the head, and I fell into our catered dinner, dead!

Lol, just kidding. I'm way too smart for that! I thought ahead! I sent an agent of like, deception and shadow to find out the intentions of these two finalists, and when I found out they were working against me, I sent him as my replacement! And, seeing as how this was my like, former nemesis Richard Simmons, him being murdered and saving me from being murdered killed like, two stones with one bird!

So, as Mr. Glasses kneeled over the afroed corpse, totally confused to find that it wasn't so sexy after all, I lept into the room with the grace of a gazelle, and starting like, chopping off his head! I cracked his glasses halfway through!

"My horned rims!" Mr. Glasses shouted as I tore off his skull lol. He fell to the ground, dead. As he hit the ground, his broken glasses fell off. As they did, I noticed something. That totally wasn't Mr. Glasses!

"So, Sylar, it appears my overestimating of you paid off. What are the odds?" I heard a voice from behind me. I turned to see Mr. Glasses' sexy face, pointing a gun at me. "Using what's his name as bait worked perfectly, even if I had to break a pair of my favorite glasses, it was worth it."

"Uh, you like, got your son killed for this trap? Lol that's kinda funny, sounds like somethin I would do, Mr. Glasses!"

"Yeah, well, we have Claire's blood to use on him if she doesn't mind getting pricked."

"Flyboy West seems to get away with it."

"Lol," said Mr. Glasses. He smiled at me, and I smiled back at him and said "ROFL." "ROFLMAO!" he responded, and then shot at me.

Using my sloth-like reflexes, I caught the bullet with my mind trick! With tears in my eyes, I asked, "Why? Mr. Glasses? We were sharing a laugh, and you use my moment of weakness and love to take advantage of me and try to kill me! I loved you, but you smashed my love, smashed it like a knife slicing bread!"

Then I mind-threw the bullet at him, and it like, hit him in the side, lol. He winced, and yelled, "NOOooOOOcooOOoOOO! I've been pwned! Pwned worse than a Counterstrike n00b!"

"Don't worry, I'm like, not going to kill you," I said. "I'm going to punish you much worse than that! I'm going to spare you, so that you know that you blew your one chance on being with a sexy guy like me, that I'm still out there, but you can never have me. That, and I mind-trick shot you in the kidney so you'll have to get it removed and need to pee like, all the time, hehe, I'm so cruel."

I turned away from him. "Goodbye, Mr. Glasses, and remember me as the one that got away." And with that, I jumped out the fourth story window! Halfway through my fall I remembered that only Future Sylar had the power to fly, not lil ol' me, so I regretted my sexy decision when I hit the ground and broke both of my legs lol.

Luckily, though, something broke my fall, or it may have been a lot worse! Whatever it was had blonde hair and an FBI badge. Hmmm, I guess the mystery with never ever be solved! As I crawled away in pain, I yelled, "I'll be back! I'll force someone to love me or they'll die! On Sylar's Bachelor 2! Lol!"

Meanwhile, Mr. Glasses was crying about losing me up in my bedroom. "Where's West? He needs to stop pricking my daughter and start pricking me!"

Final Vote!

2008-04-06T06:49:00.008-06:00

No immunity this week! There's like only two peeps left and I don't wanna play favorites like my parents did with my nonexistant sibling over me, those silly meanie-heads! And now it all comes down to the Jury! Who will they make me spend the rest of my life with?!

Will it be Mr. Bennet, my one time, like, arch nemesis, and evil paper salesman? The one I thought I would kill week one due to his evil treachery, but ended my stealing my glowing, insane heart? Will I end up being the groom in our future wedding?

Or will I be the blushing bride with Agent Hanson as the one wearing the tux?! She was once hot my trail of sexy killings, but seems to have left that behind! Maybe she still thinks I'm Isaac Mendez lol? Even if she does, I'm glad, because we've gotten, like, so close, she's even let me use the siren in her FBI-mobile! OMG is was so fun!

So now Jury, it's up to you! Send in those votes and decide the winner of Sylar's Bachelor! I just have like, one question: why are the two finalists reformed Sylar killer/capturers?! If I was smarter I might be suspicious! Good thing I'm not!

Agent Audrey Hanson, The Final Challenge

2008-04-05T05:51:00.006-06:00

To win this one, I need to think outside the box. Way outside the box. I went through all the FBI files over and over again yet nothing grabbed my attention until…

I found something in the IASA records. Something buried deep.

IASA, as everybody knows, is the International Aeronautics and Space Administration. They’re very similar to NASA except the part of Cape Canaveral that they’re headquartered in kind of reminds me of Australia.

You may recall that we made first contact with several aliens about three years ago. They showed up with an astronaut who’d been lost in space for the three or so years before that. They made a pretty big splash – newspapers, science magazines, television, the media was all over it.

The astronaut was debriefed and the aliens were studied and then they left. They all headed back to the stars and everything got quiet again. The news went onto other things, the government locked away the information that they gained, and everyone generally forgot about the event.

Until now.

With this information in hand, I made my way to the SETI Institute in Mountain View, California.

“Agent Audrey Hanson, FBI.” I handed the lead scientist a sheet of paper with my message on it. “I want you to send this into space.”

“I can’t do this,” she protested. “This is insane.”

“No way, man,” her cohort added. “If he comes, Earth will like totally be destroyed, myan.”

“Don’t you have a lame romantic comedy to be in?” I asked. “Something where you can run down the beach without a shirt on and get into a bunch of contrived entanglements? Beat it you spazzo pothead.”

“Nguuh huh huh... Gotta go,” he said as he bolted out the door. “Hoobaloo boo.”

“I like you,” I said to the scientist. “You have this quiet confidence and steely determination in what you do. Just send the message and I’ll handle the rest.”

Reluctantly, the scientist acquiesced and sent the message. A day later, a small ship appeared near Earth. Undetected by anyone on Earth, the craft made its way to Sylar’s mansion and landed on the lawn. Its lone occupant stepped out and strode towards me. Though physically not very large, I found him nonetheless an imposing figure.

“You are Audrey Hanson?” he asked as he neared me. “You said you had information for me.”

“Agent Audrey Hanson,” I corrected. “And you’re the famous Scorpio.”

“That’s Scorpius, thank you,” he corrected. “The wormhole information?”

“Ah yes that,” I replied. “So tell me, have you been researching these wormholes these past few years despite the fact that you know their dangers?”

“My business is little concern of yours,” he replied. “I’ve traveled a long distance to answer your message. Your message said that you had knowledge of wormhole technology given to you by the Ancients. Now do you or do you know have that information?”

I drew my pistol. “I do not. I called you here because it is my duty to end a plague on the universe. That plague is you, Skorponok.”

“That’s Scorpius,” he answered as he stepped calmly towards me. “But I think you know that already. Do you really think that you can kill me? Kill me with that primitive weapon? I promised Chrichton that I’d leave earth alone. Because of you I may have to renege on my word. I’d hate to do that.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” I shook my head slightly at him. “It’s all over for you.”

“Really?” He stepped forward until the barrel of my pistol pressed into his abdomen.

“Really.”

Several minutes later, I stepped back into the mansion and walked up to Sylar.

“This is Scorpius,” I said as held his head up. “He is an alien. Half Scarren and half Sebacean and possibly the only one of his kind. He has, or had rather, the ability to read people’s heat signatures and see into the infrared spectrum. I want that power.

Mission Nine: Leather Headhunting

2008-04-05T00:29:00.003-06:00

I knew just the person that I needed to kill to impress Sylar. I'm talking, of course, of the Company's longtime nemesis, George Clooney. His movies are merely a means of financing a special people collection plant, where he performs sinister experiments turning them into mindless zombies. His mindless zombies then star with him in movies, keeping the vicious cycle going. Primatech has long wanted him out of the picture.

First, though, I had to get transportation. Clooney was currently rescuing baby seals in northern Canada. A true supervillain always keeps up a philanthropic front. I'd have to commandeer a vehicle. Cyclops took his X-Man flying gizmo with him, so that left me with one option. A local homeless man keeps a hot air balloon in a meadow near here. It's his only possession, and flying it is his reason for living, he told me that last time I tried commandeering it. But this time, I wouldn't be compassionate to his situation. Sylar was with me, and I had to impress.

Sylar made the guys pants fall down with his telekinesis powers. As he bent down to lift them up, I slammed my gun down on his head. The flame was lit and we began lifting intot he air. However, it was only lifting to about 300 feet, so eventually we had to toss the homeless man's unconscious body overboard. After that, we were well on our way to Canada.

"Unhand those seals!" I shouted at the bewildered celebrity. "Your power of manipulation will soon be mine."

"Yeah, like, unhand the cute little seals!" Sylar yelled from behind me.

Clooney knew he was outmatched. There was fear in his eyes. But he didn't give up without a fight.

The veteran actor tossed a seal at us. I dodged and it landed on Sylar, knocking him down. Without his telekinesis, I would have to rely on my gun. I lifted it to shoot at Clooney, but he blocked the bullets with another seal. He tossed two more at me as Sylar began to get up.

"Eat seal!" he yelled.

"I always do," I grinned. I did not notice the large group of environmental wackos nearby.

"Hey, guys!" George Clooney called to them. "This man eats baby seals for dinner!"

The crowd grumbled as they charged for us. I fired my remaining shots into the group, bringing down two of its members. But the large force continued at us. Luckily, Sylar was back up on his feet and he shot a burst of nuclear energy at the charging horde. They were blasted back as I reloaded my gun. I lifted it up where George Clooney had been, but he was gone.

"Quick! Use your super hearing."

"Yay!" Sylar replied putting his hand to his ear. He listened intently for a short moment, then said, "he went that a way!"

As we stepped into the forest, I noticed several footprints. "He's got a small cadre," I said.

"Ooh, a cadre!"

We followed the trail deep into the woods. After about two hundred yards, I noticed blood on some plants. Then, there was moaning.

A sexy blonde man was stumbling around, bleeding profusely from his nose and stomach. His leg also appeared broken.

"Have you seen George Clooney?" I asked.

"He shot me! That jerk shot me!"

He was hysterical, and near death. I needed to get some information out of him, so I asked him again if he had seen Clooney.

The man regained his composure, somewhat, and said, "Yeah, I saw him. He shot me. All I said was Angelina was sexier than him. When I didn't take it back, he punched me in the nose. The rest of his crew kicked me, then he shot me in the stomach and left me for dead. I...don't...have....long....le...ugh!"

"Not yet!" I shook the man. He had information about Clooney's whereabouts. I needed him alive and talking. "Wake up!" I slapped him.

He came to. "Clooney...is...in a...small bunker...half a...mile....east of here...ugh!"

"Let's go!" I said to Sylar as I began trekking through the forest.

"Wait! I don't want his sexy brain to go to waste....give me a minute."

I gave Sylar and the corpse some privacy while I waited for him to finish his business. Moments later, we arrived at the mysterious bunker.

Mysterious Bunker

I rang the door bell. A voice asked, "Who is it?"

"Umm...it's the hot guy you left in the woods. I was hoping we could...uh, kiss and make up?"

"Oh, good." The door opened and Sylar and I ran inside.

George Clooney saw us and said, "You tricked me!" He slammed his palm on a red button and an alarm sounded. His goons were everywhere.

Sylar began Force Chopping heads and I shot as many as I could. Clooney ran down a corridor, so I ran after him, leaving Sylar to fend off the henchman.

Suddenly, a black man with ninja-like reflexes jumped out at me. He kicked my gun out of my hands. I turned and saw it was Don Cheadle.

"I'm gonna break every bone in your body," he threatened. He pulled his fist back and I screamed.

"Not in the glasses!" I closed my eyes as I awaited the blow. But it never came. When I opened them, Sylar was feasting on Don Cheadle brains.

"Good job!" I picked up my gun from the ground. "Now, lets get Clooney."

"Yay!"

There was a back exit to the bunker, the door was left wide open. Outside, George Clooney was waiting at the edge of a cliff.

"It's over," I hollered at him. "You have nowhere to go." I lifted my gun on him.

"Not in the head!" Sylar cautioned.

"Relax," I replied. I smile at Clooney and said, "Ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?"

"Nice try, Noah," he said and leaped off the edge of the cliff.

"Sylar, catch him!" I commanded.

Quickly, my effeminate companion put a Force Hold on the cliff diver.

"Wait, don't kill me," he begged.

"Good night, and good luck," I replied. I nodded at Sylar and he began sawing through Clooney's Academy Award-winning skull.

The End

Et tu, Brute? Then fall, Sylar!

2008-04-03T22:27:00.003-06:00

I made it to the final two, as I knew would happen. Unfortunately, the jury gets to vote for the winner, and, well, I haven't exactly been the most diplomatic player. I stole Adam's blood. I pelted Nathan with strawberries. I made Maya cry (but who hasn't?) But I did save West's life after he was bitten by Richard Simmons...so that's one vote. And that's a start.

The competition: Audrey Hanson. She's in the FBI, the CIA's retarded little brother that always stays inside the house. Maybe he has light sensitivities, but that's not the point. The point is, she's beatable. But the other point is, I can't risk losing Sylar. I had to cover all my bases.

So, I arranged a chance meeting with the law enforcement officer. Slipping into my Primatech-issued policeman disguise, I waltzed into the FBI headquarters in LA. She was no doubt checking out the FBI's dossiers on possible victims for Sylar's final challenge.

"Psst," I whispered, walking up beside her in the hallway.

"Bennet. I didn't expect to see you here. Spying on me?"

"Not at all." Her accusation had startled me. Everyone knows I would never cheat in this competition. And even if my morals were questionable, I thought she and I shared a fully honest relationship, with a few minor lies. "I came to speak to you," I said. "It's important."

She talked as she walked, seeming busy with some huge murder case or something. "Look, Bennet. I don't have time to help you with your murder challenge. I've got other things on my mind, mainly some huge murder case or something."

"This concerns your murder case...it's about apprehending Sylar." The two of us had talked previously about our missions. I had agreed to assist her in nabbing him, only so that I could then nab him from her and hand him over to Primatech.

"Don't tell me you're having second thoughts, Bennet. Be a man, man. You gotta tough it out. Don't wuss out on me."

"It's not that. I assure you, I was made for this kind of action. Paper isn't as safe as most people think."

"So, what is it?" she asked with a hard stop. She stared, awaiting my response.

"One of us will win. This is certain. I agreed to help you take down Sylar, and so it seems your mission will be fulfilled, as we're the last two standing. I suggest it goes down on the night of the consummation."

"Good thinking. As much as the thought of copulating with a male intrigues me, I feel having a surprise arrest would be of much greater importance."

"Yes, and I for one, just don't want to have to do anything nasty with another dude. So, here's the plan: the loser waits outside the bedroom window as backup while the winner seduces and incapacitates Sylar."

"Yes. Stalkerish, but I like it."

"Exactly."

"Perfect."

"Good."

And so, Sylar's capture is a done deal. Once Audrey helps to subdue Sylar, a quick pistol blast to her head should allow me to sneak our murderous bounty to my office.

Still, I would like the title of Sylar's Bachelor. So, now it's time to get to the final challenge....

Agent Audrey Hanson, Checking the FBI Files

2008-04-02T23:14:00.006-06:00

Nathan Petrelli
Powers: Flight
Drawbacks: I’m not sure if this is related to his powers or not, but Petrelli’s a bit of a jerk to the ladies. I don’t want to be a jerk to the ladies.

West Rosen
Powers: Flight
Drawbacks: Maybe it’s the power of flight, but he’s not that great with the women either. Hey West, here’s a clue: Hanging outside of someone’s window isn’t the best way to get them to like you.

Cyclops
Powers: Optic blasts, ability to function normally with a metal rod up his butt.
Drawbacks: The optic blasts are uncontrollable and I would have to wear those lame glasses all the time. Additionally, Cyclops is kind of like a kicked dog, I would feel really bad if I put him down.

Adam Monroe
Powers: Rapid cell regeneration
Drawbacks: Though the idea of virtual immortality does have its appeal, I don’t think I could stand living all those years, plotting revenge against anyone and everyone who did me wrong one little way or another. Hey jerk, you cut me off in the line at the supermarket, in 500 years I will kill your father!

Spider-Man
Powers: Proportionate strength, speed, and agility of a spider.
Drawbacks: A spider? Ick.

Superman
Powers: Flight, strength, invulnerability, heat vision, super breath, super ventriloquism, etc. etc.
Drawbacks: I don’t think I could kill him to get his powers. Yeah, sure there’s Kryptonite and all, but if the world’s greatest evil minds can’t do it, what chance do I have?

Peter Petrelli
Powers: Ability to duplicate the powers of others.
Drawbacks: That flippy thing with his hair. What the heck is with that anyway?

Noah Bennet
Powers: Selling paper
Drawbacks: Sure, killing my last rival would be a sure way to win the competition and would undoubtedly gain the admiration of Sylar, but do I really want his power over paper? I tell you, we’ve all heard him go on and on and on about pulp and watermarks and card stock and colors from yellow canary to periwinkle and the Kraft process and if I had that power, I think I’d just kill myself.

Andy Samberg
Powers: To make me laugh
Drawbacks: The world needs laughter, I just couldn’t kill you Andy Samberg with your boyish charms and your ruffled hair and your roguish grin. Make ‘em laugh Andy, make the whole world laugh!

Popeye
Powers: Increased strength and stamina from the consumption of spinach.
Drawbacks: Spinach? I don’t think so. Plus, isn’t Popeye a cartoon? Can you kill a cartoon?

None of these possibilities are what I need. It looks like I’m going to have to look deeper into the federal database to find my target.

Elimination: No Second Date

2008-04-01T06:17:00.003-06:00

It's another sad elimination day today, especially since I had so much fun with all of you! Boy scout brains, muffin farts, total deja vu about sharks eating Samuel L. Jackson, it was all a grand, grand time! But, if I'm to find my true love, the one who will somehow survive being me, um, literally, lol.

So, with sadness, I must say that Cyclops has been eliminated from the competition.

Ah Cyclops, you were totally like, the one competitor who saw me for the hot girl that I FEEL like on the INSIDE! And it's the inside that counts right?

hehehehe! That was funny. No, your insides don't matter, except when they're on the outside from like, disembowlment. Only hot sexiness on the outside matters, and I'm happy to say I have that. Don't get my wrong, Cyclops, you had to it too, but well, there's just something you have to know...brb!

.....

There we go! I just went and pulled my pants down in front of you, and now I'm narrating it over again for some reason! Now you can reread this when you're done crying in the shower and relive your nightmare all over again! Yes, for better or worse, I'm a man! Maybe one day you'll accept that, and when you do, give me a call, since I will probably be single again from murdering the winne...er, I mean, maybe the winner and I will have an open relationship, yeah that's it!

Well, final two, continue reading on below to find out about your final challenge!!!!11!!11one!!! OMFG!

Final Challenge: Murder

2008-04-01T06:05:00.003-06:00

"That sound in your heart," Bizarro Sylar said, "what is it?"

"Murder lol," I replied smartly! Lol! I'm the master of one liners! Even better than Arnold! "GET TO ZA CHOPPA!" has nothin' on my sexy lines lol!

But I'm rambling! We're at the final challenge now, between you two sexy men! One of you will soon own my heart, and, as an added bonus, will get to survive hehe! I'm JK...well, as long as I'm well fed at the end of the competition anyways.

So, guys, this last challenge also involves your prize! No, not sex with me, silly, you get that for free! No, your added bonus prize of getting a power installed by me!

You guys need to find someone who has like, a power, be it celeb or a totally made up person (becuz, uh, we know that everyone who isn't a celeb is definitely made up)! Once you know what power you want and who you're going to get it from, you 'n me will go out 'n murder them in cold blood! It'll be a gigglesome time!

Anyways, you'll get to murder them, to prove you're my soulmate and able to take the lives of insignificant peeps! Even though, like, I'm pretty sure you're both already able to lol, one of you being my evil paper-peddling nemesis, and the other an insane FBI agent who thinks she's my nemesis even though she's only been involved in like, 3 episodes...of my life.

So go! Murder a special peep with me! But make sure not to destroy the brain, cause I'll need it later to give the power to the winner of Sylar's Bachelor. Good luck you two!

Immunity: Let's Get It On!

2008-03-29T21:51:00.002-06:00

OMG! This is the last time I'll get to issue immunity! My tears are flowing like the Giza Desert! And that's like, super dry! Wait, tears aren't dry, are they? Oh well! You, like, get the point!

So, I had some dates with you guys 'n they were all fun! But who was like, the most romantic?

Audrey, the manliest of the contestants remaining, you took me to some weird French place that didn't even serve French Fries! Luckily, they had muffins. Must be some new French Muffin or somethin', deep fried, egg-battered muffins. Except that's not what they were, lol. Anyways, I loved the smell of your manliness. It was pungeant, like sniffing the sweaty jockstrap of the star football player. Mmmmmmm.

Mr. Glasses, you took me on a whacky cruise adventure! Not only did it include lightsabering-wielding Sam Jacksons, but I also got to eat shark brains at the end, one of the finest delicacies in all of brainhood!

Cyclops, we had some real brainey fun! And here I thought when Molly was eliminated I'd gotten away from the pediatry...or is it pedigree...you know, the kid lovin' thing, anyways, I thought I'd gotten away from it, but then, we got to the Scouts! Mmmm, their brains were so succulent! And the terror on their faces as I tore their skulls off, lol, it was just too funny! I almost peed my panties laughing at their silly expressions as they lay dying at my feet! Thanks for a great time!

And now, my final sex-robe token of immunity goes too...Mr. Glasses!

Our date was romantic, action-packed, and sensual, all rolled into one evening! Our celebrity guests were amazing! Sam Jacksons? Insane Chefs? Dancing Carltons? How'd you do it?! It seems that when you stop putting all your efforts into foiling me, and instead put it into wooing me, you're actually successful! Maybe you should have tried this from the beginning, silly billy!

Anyways, our Jury of former and current contestants, now it's time to vote between Cyclops and Audrey! Who will be gone? Who will make it to the finals for their chance to win my heart? It's up to you now! Don't let lil ol' me down!

Cyclops gets lucky

2008-03-29T09:16:00.009-06:00

Oh man, tonight is my big date with Sylar! I am so nervous I feel like I'm going to disolve into a pool of goo. Normally when I have some big challenge facing me, I go to Professor Xavier for advice. Not with girls though. He only seems to get lucky with freaky space alien chicks. Sylar is like the hottest girl I've ever seen. I need a guy that has experience making it with total 10s. I called Wolverine.

"What's up, Chuck?" he answered in that cool Canadian gutteral snarl of his.

"Uh, this Cyclops," I told him.

"Then why does the caller ID say you're Charles Xavier?"

"Well, it seems like no one ever answered the phone when I used my own name."

"Good point. So why are you bothering me?"

"I have like this big date tonight with this totally hot chick and, well, I'm really nervous. I was hoping you could give me some advice."

"Sure, sure. I got just the thing for you, bub. The most important thing is that you've got to be relaxed when you're with the dame. Makes you seem confident and aloof. Chicks dig that. Now to make sure you're going to be relaxed on your date, you have to, uh, relief your tension before you meet her."

"Relief my tension? How do I do that?"

"Come on, Cyke. Jennie said you were an expert. You know . . polish your knob. Wax your pole. Jerk your chain. Choke your chicken. Spank your monkey."

"What are you talking about?"

"Jeez! Hang 10 with your big ben! Play your skin flute! Sharpen your pork sword!"

"You lost me, Wolverine."

"Masturbate, you idiot!"

And then the line went dead. I thought about it for a moment and realized it sounded like pretty good advice. Doing that always relaxes me. Before every big battle with Magneto I always did that once or twice. It really helped me get into my zone.

As soon as I had finished up, there was a knock on my door. Confused, I opened the door to find Sylar standing there, smiling.

"I, uh, thought I was suppose to come get you in half an hour?" I said awkwardly.

Sylar had this weird look on her face, like I had just ripped a wicked fart or something. She was staring at my ear.

"I, like, couldn't wait to get started studly, but it looks like you might need a minute. And maybe a dust buster or something."

"Uh, no I'm good, thanks. Let's go. You look really hot, by the way." I couldn't believe how relaxed I felt around such a totally bitchin', half naked knock out like Sylar. Wolverine really came through for me.

I led Sylar out to the nearby field where I was keeping the X-Jet in stealth mode. I could see she was impressed with my plane. We got into the cockpit and I flew her to Washington, DC.

I figured the city at night would make a cool back drop to our date. As we hovered over the White House, I microwaved the Chicken McNuggets I had brought.

"Isn't this romantic?" I asked as I slide an arm over Sylar's broad, muscular shoulders.

"Say, does thing have weapons?" she asked excitdely.

"Uh, sure. Surface to air missiles, air to air missiles, forward mounted guns, lazers . ."

"Ooh, how do the missiles work??"

"You, uh, just aim with that stick and press the red button there."

Before I could stop her, Sylar reached out and pressed the red button. A missile shot out from under the wing and slammed into the White House, vaporizing it. Sylar had the broadest grin on her face.

"Totally awesome!" she shouted, moving the aiming control and firing on the Lincoln Memorial. In moments, it was just a pile of ashes.

"Uh, maybe you should stop doing that," I suggested. "This stuff is improtant."

"I am so totally hot right now!" Sylar exclaimed. Her whole body just kind of shuddered. There was a mad gleam in her eye as she turned to look at me. For some reason, her gaze was focused on my face, just above my eyes. "I'm sorry Cyclops, but I have to eat your brain."

"If that means what I think it does, no problem!" I said as I unzipped my superhero pants. "Believe you me, no reason to apologize!"

As I pulled down my pants, Sylar reached out and pressed the end of her long index finger against my forehead. I realized that my head was getting very warm where she was touching me. My skin was getting hotter and hotter, like I was catching on fire.

A piercing wail suddenly filled the cockpit.

"Agghh!! What the hell is that??" Sylar sqweeked. "It worse than whole squad of cheerleaders on the rag!"

I checked the scanner. "We have two F-18s closing in.," I toled her. "They have radar lock."

"Crap! Can't you, like, blast them or something?"

I rammed down on the stick, the plane's control stick that is, and floored it. Then I flipped on the stealth mode. After a few moments, the F-18s had lost us.

"Oh Cyclops, that was, like, even more scrumptious than the time I almost blew up New York. I want you right now! Well, your brains at least."

Again with the brains. That is code for my pork sausage, right? I figured it was time to play it safe. I set the X-Jet down in a nearby park and we got out. There was a pack of Boy Scouts camping out there. Sylar's eyes started to get misty.

"Cyclops, this is the best date ever!"

And then she ran over to the Scouts and started to eat their brains. Weird. Hopefully we'll be getting busy when she's done with the kids.