So, my Daddy bit the big one. Sylar sauteed his brain and TRIED to make it an extra value meal and get mine on the side but HA, I’m not a girl with an easy brain to pick now, am I?
But see, that’s not even the start of my problems. I mean, I’m free now, right? No grounding, no sneaking around to get dates. No holds on my charge card because Daddy thinks I don’t need that new Dooney & Bourke bag. Noooo. I can do what I want, when I want. I should be happy, and giddy and frolicking through some FREAKING DAISIES.
But Noooo. Peter freakin’ Petrelli always rains on my pretty pink parade. I thought I was over him, and his cologne and his wonky lip and his…Okay. No. Peter is a meanie mean head who jaded me….but he’s….Peter. BIG FREAKING SIGH. When I was laid out because Sylar tried to go human can opener on me. I heard Peter, I felt Peter…I smelled Peter! And I saw? Some creeper who looked a lot like that Weasel whatever guy from that teenage detective show.
So, on top of Peter haunting me. I get FIRED. I don’t work for the company anymore because the she Satan Angela Petrelli decided she didn’t need my services. Does she expect me to work at McDonalds now?!
I need a job. I…have to fill out applications. I have to MINGLE. Ew, ew, ew. GROSS.
So. I need a new place to live, a new job, some new shoes because I kind of fried my fave Louboutins and as she Satan said..a new life.
I don’t suppose you can buy a life at Macy’s, can you?