Burnt Toast Diner

stepping on too many bad butterfly

2009-11-08T07:16:00.000-06:00

hello. how everybody doing? this week i go save charlie-san. she work in diner in texas. when i teleport-o to texas and look in diner, old lady come up and talk to me.

"cute-o butt" she tell me.

i look down and notice that i still in hospital gown.

then, old lady flirt with me.

"hey, you want to go on date-o with me?" she ask me.

ひどいよ！ (that mean gross in japanese)

i try to be polite. i smile and say, "no thank you. i already have girlfriend."

"maybe you like two girlfriend," she say.

"no no no!" i say and run away.

that old lady very creepy.

then, i look for clothes. i can not save charlie-san in hospital gown. fortunately, many people dry clothes outside in texas. must save on power bill, ne? they do same thing in japan.

anyway, i go to one house, and try on clothes, but they too big. they say everything bigger in texas.

i think they make people bigger in texas too. so, i try 'nother house. owner see me and almost shoot me with bb gun. finally, i find house with clothes and no owner with bb gun. clothes fit good too. but i see bratty kid with toy gun.

"you steal my daddy no clothes!" he tell me.

"i sorry. i must take!" i say, "it matter of life and death. i must save woman i love."

"love?" bratty kid say, "love no exist. my mommy and daddy scream at one another all time. my mommy like to throw dish at my daddy. chase him around with rolling pin too. love is just fairy tale. now give me back my daddy no clothes!" he demand.

really? why must kid in united state be so bratty?

eventually, i convince boy to let me have clothes. i tell him bullshit about good guy versus bad guy. he no understand that i just say that so i can steal his daddy no clothes…so i can do job and he leave me alone. it work. it work very well. then i start to talk about brain man.

"you crazy, mister," he say. then he run away.

so, i stop time and put brain man on bus far away. before i stop time, i talk to myself. i tell myself that he must go back in time and save charlie-san. talking to self very weird. also very complicated.

"where your sword?" my past self ask me.

"that not important," i say.

then he talk to me about comic book . he talk to me long time about comic book. was i really that dumb three year ago? that what they call rhetorical question. please no answer.
then, i talk to ando-kun.

"where your sword?" he ask.

really. why do ando-kun and i always talk about sword in past? we obsessed with sword then. that sword really piece of junk that belong to this guy, who i no like very much any more.

then, i tell ando-kun to stay. i sound like i talking to dog. "sit. stay. good dog." maybe i need to learn to treat friend better, ne?

finally, i talk to charlie-san and tell her we can go anywhere she want.

"i want to go to otsu, japan," she say, "because kensei-san born there."

i almost tell her i no want to go, that i meet kensei-san in past and he turn out to be asshole, but i no say. i want to make charlie-san happy.

then charlie-san start telling me many thing about otsu, japan. she also start to speak in 'nother language that greek to me. turn out it really greek. she learn two month ago.

"charlie, stop that," i say.

"i sorry, hiro-kun," she tell me, "it aneurysm. it make me do. i sorry, but i dying."

so…i have to take brain man out of bus and convince him to fix charlie-san. we have stand-off behind diner, only with supa-power and not gun. i win and he fix charlie-san. we about to leave for japan when butterfly man appear and steal charlie-san. he say he trap her in time.

"you no butter-fly man, you evil butterfly man," i say.

"you can have charlie back, but you must crush my butterfly first," he say.

he bad butterfly. maybe i crush him once i find charlie.

Raising a Teacup

2009-11-02T11:08:00.000-06:00

Is it bad parenting if the kid ends up dead? Yesterday I would have said, "Of course!", but today I'm thinking, "Well, it really depends on the circumstances of the child's death."

You see, before paper, before shooting people, before anything else, my top priority has always been protecting Claire. She's my child, and I would do anything to keep her alive. Fortunately, her ability makes my job really, really easy. I didn't realize how easy until now.

Kids are fragile, like teacups!

And like teacups, you shouldn't let rednecks drag them through town behind a pickup truck.

Proper Uses of Teacups

Being held by Lady Gaga

In an advertisement for this fine establishment

Riding in them

Improper Use of Teacups

Bathing Disney characters in them

Leaving them with a perverted clock babysitter

Doing vodka kitten shots out of them

Above all I am a good father. And this little emo tarnished my perfect record. So, I think I may need to create a new rule for myself: Only adopt kids that can't die.

Happy Halloween from the Unloved Carnie

2009-10-31T12:00:00.001-06:00

I really need to escape this place. It's Halloween and I'm forced to do manuel labor and bond over food as we worship the blueberry Waffle Gods. This isn't a carnival haven for people with abilities. It's like a roach hotel and once you get sucked in you can't get out. Although I had several chances to escape, Lydia always kept me grounded. But now that she's playing reindeer games with that emotional crack head Sylar, I might just not have anything to tie me down to the carnival.

The other day, Sylar thought he saw someone, and so did I. It was my water witch, the beautiful Blonde Goddess who was immune to my knife tricks. But once More Sylar stopped me from finding her. And you know why? Because he had to pull the oh -whoa-is - me I don't know who I am, and I think I shook a lot of hands and flew jets and look at me! I look like a mime! So Samuel shooed him off and sent the Water Witch away! Leaving me once more feeling like the red headed left handed step child.

So I've decided to escape the carnival once and for all. But in order to do that I needed a disguise which meant a trip to the local costume Shop. It wasn't easy sneaking away, with Lydia being Emo about her daughter Amanda and Samuel with his we are a loving family please eat my waffles spiel. While Sylar was crying like a bitchy little girl on PMS, and Samuel was out getting revenge on the backwoods cops that went all small town vigilante with a side of deliverance on poor Jeremy I decided to run into the city and visit the local costume shops.

My first Choice was to dress like Toad from the X-Men. But once I looked in the mirror I thought maybe I better try something else. Maybe it was the green mousse hair, the giant tongue or the ridiculous looking goggles. Why would he wear them anyways? Why am I running around looking like a sycophant Frogman?

My Second Choice was to dress like Darth Maul from Starwars. As I contemplated buying Princess Leia's Gold Bikini (in case the water witch is into Role-Play) I noticed a group of girls staring at me and giggling.

“Stop following me!” I snapped at the group of young girls trailing behind me. Normally I'm not opposed to woman following me, but in this case I found it disturbing. First of all they were teenage girls and some boys as well. Second of all, they were all Starwars fans wearing T-shirts of Darth Maul.

“But you look like the guy who played Darth Maul,” a blonde girl said as she stepped in front of the pack.

Geez, I wasn't even wearing the mask. I'll I had on was the robe and funky boots. “Yeah, because I'm wearing a costume,” I said spinning around and doing Darth Mauls signature spin.

“But we watched you throw those knives and you did the signature Darth Maul spin, we saw it!” She pointed her finger at me. “Can we just have your autograph, or you know take pictures or something?”

“You have me confused with somebody else; I’ve never been in a Starwars movie, let alone a movie at all! I just work at the carnival. Look if you leave me alone, I’ll give you some free passes for the Ferris wheel or something.”

So I decided not to go with the Darth Maul Costume. Instead I decided to go with being Snake Eyes from G.I. Joe. That way my face was covered, the water witch could still see my hot body and if any kids came over and bugged me I'd just swipe them with my sword and steal their candy. So Ms. Water Witch, since your in the business of helping others, why don’t you just come to the carnival and help me?

Edgar, the unloved Carnie.

An Invisible Man, Sleeping in...a Van?

2009-10-30T08:06:00.017-06:00

I was really hoping that we could have stayed at our last location until we found the Carnival and then left with them, but things didn't turn out that way. Sadly, Claude and I have had to leave our last location though not because of Zombies or because of how scared I was after watching Paranormal Activity. Apparently our last landlord was even more skittish than I, when it comes to possible paranormal disturbances and he sent some local ghost chasers to our building to check it out. It would have been nice if he had told us this when he came and told Claude and I that he was sending us to the local motel for two nights and picking up the tab for everything. In the process of getting all our props and gear packed up "just in case" we wound up leaving food and- more importantly- beer in the fridge. While the motel had decent room service, their beer selection was not good and Claude insisted, after the "crap beer" he'd snagged way back when at Peter's flat, that he would never drink that kind of "rubbish" again. I believe he said that bathing with that particular beer was preferable to drinking it. So Claude went back for his beer. Normally, this would not have been a problem, even with investigators about, except for the fact that they'd put a thermal camera in our kitchen. Of all the rooms to put thermal cameras in, I, personally, would not have picked our former kitchen. The only invisible presence there was Claude. Now me, I would have put a thermal camera in the main bedroom or in the "closet" that Claude had used as a bedroom. While invisible to the unaided eye, Claude showed up clearly on the investigators' thermal camera. You should have seen the colors he turned when our landlord collected us from the motel and told us that our kitchen was haunted and then he showed us the video "proof." Claude made the excuse that I couldn't sleep in a place that was haunted and went on to say that we'd be moving on as a result. I won't tell you what Claude said once the landlord was out of earshot. I really wish I could have seen this coming but all the readings I had been doing for clients left me no time or energy to read for myself or even for Claude.

After all the trouble we've had with stationary buildings and what not, Claude figured we should get some kind of mobile home but not something too big. RV's were out mainly because of how limited parking spaces for one are and we couldn't find one reasonably priced that wasn't a "stick." Neither one of us can drive anything that isn't automatic and Claude hates driving on the wrong side of the road etc. Then we got lucky and found this hippie type van. Sure it was old and Claude hated the paint job but the previous owners took really good care of it and it even has a small but comfortable living area and the built in fridge was a definite plus. Given that the Carnival we are seeking moves around a lot, I'm thinking that having our own van should be a plus. Of course Claude just had to call Maaco to repaint the van, because not only did he not like the paint job but he also didn't want to be mistaken for the van's former owners. While I look like one of the former owners I don't really think Claude does. I'm sure this was a major factor in his decision to repaint as was the fact that the painters offered to raise the roof for free. See what you folks think:

Personally, while I do resemble Velma, I don't really think Claude looks like Shaggy. Shaggy is kinda cute and all, but I much prefer Claude. Claude figures, with the new, white, and rather plain repaint job, that once we find the Carnival, we can just add their logo. I really would have preferred a Celestial pattern, or maybe even red and black but Claude insisted on just plain white. On the plus side, at least he didn't tell the contractors to modify the inside, beyond raising the roof a bit. He actually really liked the interior especially the built in fridge. Now, we're on the road again but at least we have our own wheels. All we really need to find at the moment is decent parking spaces until we can find the Carnival.

The Slaughter House Rules

2009-10-29T20:30:00.000-06:00

Do you know that thing I said about how Becky Taylor is evil? Well, I was totally proven right. Not only is she evil, she's some sort of invisible, deadly evil. I mean, she - Let me start from the beginning.

The crazy Psi Alpha Chi girls came after us in the middle of the night and Claire went all La Femme Nikita on them and I think she maybe just about killed someone with kung fu. Becky was heading up this sorority sanctioned kidnapping, unsurprisingly. She took off her hood so Claire would back off. "Like, ohmigawd," Claire exclaimed, "I was just trying to defend my BFF! Duh! And what is with your gawd awful hideous outfits anyway?" That's when the girls put hoods over our heads, taped us up, and threw us into the trunk of a car. I'm sure there was some sort of camera back there, filming us for YouTube or something crass like that.

Our uncreative captors relocated Claire and I, as well as two other apparent prospective pledges, to some abandoned slaughterhouse. You'd think it was Halloween or something like that. I was having none of it. I mean, how lame was all of that? Totally, that's how lame it was. Completely and utterly. I could tell Claire was kind of on edge, so I was playing it cool for her. I mean, Becky was up to something - probably no good - but I couldn't let Claire sit and obsess about it. Even if the look she has on her face when she's stressed is totally adorable. Then again, she always seems to be stressed out. Must be why I think she's so cute. Anyway, to help Claire keep her cool, I let her play Twenty Questions with me about my love life. Did you know she's still got her V Card? I think that's so precious. But just as things started to get juicy, Claire was just about jumping out of her skin! "Like, did you see that?! It was totally, like, some sort of moving shadow thingy!" I figured she was trying to change the subject - you know how flakey cheerleaders can be. She was crazy insistent, though, that something was going on. I wasn't sure how to keep her distracted from that thought. Claire Bennet is the mother of all conspiracy theories. She's got to be Richard Belzer's wet dream.

That came out so wrong. You know what I mean.

The whole deal was really boring. Some chick got Carrie'd (covered in blood, not the other kind), and Claire tackled me to knock me out of the way of some flying meat hook (being tackled by a girl is fun and all, but hitting concrete is never a good time). The happy funtimes kind of ended when I was nearly strangled, though.

Not my idea of a good time! Can't... breathe!

Now, when I say that Becky's an invisible, deadly evil, I don't mean she's a ninja. No matter how hard she was trying to look like one. No, she's all wishing she were Claude Rains or something.

Outta sight!

Apparently, Becky Taylor was pulling the strings on our little night of mayhem. And trying to kill me! Didn't I tell you that girl was evil? I told you she was totally evil. I think trying to kill me qualifies as totally evil, and also means I was right. Never mind the fact that she went Vlad the Impaler on poor Claire. That top is so ruined. She got away, though. Becky. But Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Ditz kind of had to see me take Claire off the pike, so to speak. I'm not sure what we're going to do about that. The one girl might just keep quiet because she knows no one would believe her, but blondie? I get the feeling she'll tell anyone who listens what she saw. Now, if it were just me, I'd be okay with just telling people to bite me if they tried to bug me about it, but Claire... She wants a normal life.

She says it's okay, though.

"Like, omigosh! I've got this totally under control! I just need some wind chimes."

Claire says she knows this guy from like the Dominican Republic or something?

Beauty is Pain

2009-10-28T06:00:00.003-06:00

"Just go in, talk to him, sign him out. He's got nobody," Bennet said, while staring at my chest. "You've been there."

"No, I haven't, and you're never going there," I said, chastely.

I know, it's not what you'd expect to hear from me. The Tracy of old would have let him go there, and deeper, but no longer. Now, after my encounter with Dirty Old Man Malden, I've actually been considering... saving myself for the right person.

There. I said it. O Saint Fukelliakelle, patron saint of those who sleep around, forgive me!

As it turned out, though, Bennet wasn't there only to get into my pants. He needed my help to save some kid named Jeremy, whose powers had resulted in the deaths of his parents, several innocent animals, and, apparently, his skin care regime.

When I saw his face, and heard his story, my heart went out to him. Here was someone just like me, someone in danger of letting great destructive power get in the way of really great looks. Out here in Hicksville, Wherever, he had the potential to be a real gem, someone I would let my hypothetical plain but overachieving daughter go out with in an attempt to make her prettier by association and thus make her worthy of my name, but now, with this disaster, he just looked so dreadfully... ugly.

Bennet was right. I'd been there, too. Except that when I murdered a man, rather than let myself fall into squalor, I made the right choice and slept with Senator Petrelli while he was still worth sleeping with. But if it hadn't been for that one decision, I could've wound up riddled with guilt and acne, just like Jeremy.

There, but for the grace of Saint Fukelliakelle, went I.

From there, we started making plans. Bennet and I would adopt Jeremy, and we would pretend to be a formerly loving couple that had divorced on the grounds of irreconcilable ugliness. Jeremy would live with Bennet and mope about like a stereotypically banal yet secretly repressed teenager, I would come over for weekend power practice and softball games, plus heavily inappropriate makeout sessions with my "ex-husband," and we would all get rich off the sitcom earnings.

It all would have been perfect, if Jeremy hadn't gone and killed someone else, splattering noseblood all over us in the process.

In a flash, I realized what a fool I'd been. Bennet and Jeremy didn't understand what it was to be beautiful, not really. For them it was all about murder and testosterone and trying to evade the law and "live normal lives" and whatnot.

Sorry honey, Beauty Goddess Tracy Strauss won't play that game anymore.

"We could've saved him," Bennet told me, after the fashion police had rounded up Jeremy.

"Why should I, Neville?" I asked, proud of myself that I'd remembered his first name, despite his unattractiveness. "You ever think the beautiful people could just... be beautiful? Out in the open?"

"After today, no," he said, continuing to stare at my chest.

I glared. "Don't ever call me again," I said, and drove away, leaving him stranded in Hicksville, Wherever.

From now on, I would look for people who understood me, people who were beautiful... maybe even a community of beautiful people? There I would become queen and all would be well. I would find what I've been looking for.

Maybe even that special someone I'm saving myself for.

I'm coming for you, hot stuff.

XOXO,
Tracy

jjjjjjjjjjjHwhatt? Drrukn bolgging!!

2009-10-27T10:27:00.000-06:00

Graet nwes! Imm durnk! Wiat...taht's not teh graet nwes. Ist thhe goood newess buts theers bettrer newws. Graeet newes! I jsust gott to remeeber waht itt iis. Hoo ya! Teh graaeet nwes is taht Im klilingg Slyarr!

OMG! No, your not! Im like rite here!

Go waay! Sputid Slyar tyring to ttkae overr my bolg. Tish is my bolg not Slyar'ss bolg. I jsut need mroee acholollll!!!!!

Like stop it! Your hurting me!

Oen moree shto shuldds do it.....

I'm melting! I'm melting!!

Yess!! Fnilally! Hes ggnoe. At fristt yuo knwos he wastnt taht bad of a gyu ralelly. I maenn it wass kdnida nice hvasing a feriend to shaare my daaay whitt. Btut tehns he tokoo it too frarr!

"Yuuor a dylsesicx losrre!" ehh wuold tuants me. "Gvie me bck myy bdoy!"

Btut tath didnt get to mee.

"Yuuor a faat losrer!" hee wuld tuant me. "Gviae me bacck my boddy!"

I wsas useed to itt.

"Yuoor a sutpids losre!" he wuodl tuntt mee. "Giev mee baack mmy bdoyy!"

I swas udsed too taht onne tto!

Btut ehent he weent and ddi smoethingg I wsant at all useed to! Hee gavs myy wfie an orgamss!

"OHhf Mattt! Wwhy cannt yuuo bee lkei tahtt alll tthe tmiee?" Jjancie askked acrdodingg to Slyyar.

Weell duhh! Theer arre pulicb deccency lwas, tathss why.

Bttu Jacine doseent havee tow orry abbouttt tahtt anmyoree. Tehere wnot bee anyy moree seex beecusee I fuondd a curee for myy Slyar prolbeem! Itss onne teqila, too tequilla, trhee teequila....

It Can't Be True!

2009-10-26T07:08:00.001-06:00

So, inside this house of mirrors thing, I was shown information about my past. It was a horrific sight! There were murders, brain feasts and more murders. But the worst part was when I saw an old blog post that I wrote.

"NoOocoOoOOoOOoO!!!!" I screamed. The grammar was atrocious, but the thing that was really too much was seeing myself in a dress. My stomach churned as I ran outside of the reflection maze.

"What a wuss," the speedy fellow with the knives commented. I'm not sure how I could hear him from so far away.

As I stared down at the puddle of my vomit, I couldn't help but feel something was missing. Brain chunks? What? I needed to find out who I am, and that search led me here, to the Burnt Toast Diner.

"So, that explains it," I said, "I'm a blogger. Now I see why I have no family or friends, but that doesn't explain why I'm a murderer."

I decided I should travel down to Midland, TX and visit the Burnt Toast Diner. Perhaps there would be clues there. But Samuel stopped me.

"Thinkin' 'bout leavin'?" he asked. "Once a carnie, always a carnie. That's part o' the Carnie Code."

Well, he had me there. So, I decided at the very least to postpone my trip to Texas. Besides, what little memory I had told me it was a terrible place. I had the strangest feeling that only two things came from Texas, and I was pretty sure I wasn't a steer.

"I hope I'm not from Texas," I sighed.

"Don't we all, brother," Samuel replied.

With the help of the Internet, I was able to find this website and log in to my Blogger account. Or at least what I think is my Blogger account. My password was "aikenrox69!"

"Can it be?" I asked the all-knowing carnie ringleader. "Is this really my Blogger profile?"

"Yes," Samuel answered me, hopping down from the human cannonball cannon. He strode toward me and continued, "you are Sexy Sylar."

"No," I resisted, "That's not true. That's impossible!"

But there I was, in full Sexy Sylar regalia, right on the Blogger profile. It was me alright. I wonder if it's still too late to be Nathan, whoever that may be. This Sexy Sylar guy gives me the creeps.

Unhappy in the Hospital

2009-10-25T06:32:00.000-06:00

last week, i wake up in hospital in gown that no cover rear-end so well. i hate hospital. anyhow, i see peter petrelli there. peter-san tell me i teleport-o to his apartment and pass out. destiny has been doing many odd thing. it take me to different place to fix all my mistake. at first, i think that destiny bring me to peter-san to fix problem.

“maybe, destiny has brought me to you, peter, to fix problem in your life,” i say, “and you have many problem because your family very strange. by way, how your brother, fu-rying man doing?, is your mother still being billan?”

then petrelli-san get annoyed.

“don’t be silly, hiro,” he say, “do i look like i need help? who the one sitting in hospital bed acting like they been hit over head? yes, i do many dumb thing sometime, but i fine. my brand of stupid normal, but your brand of stupid is sick stupid. we need to find you cure.”

then, he touch my hand and take my power. he try to teleport, but end up teleporting to ladies room in nearby bar. (i make same mistake once three year ago. ando-kun thought it very funny). then, peter-san come back to my room and say, “whoops, my bad,” before teleporting away again. i hear this time he end up in noah-san no bathroom. remember boy and girl, no teleport while stupid.

after peter-san leave, nurse come in. she want to poke me with needle and draw blood.

“no, i afraid of needle! please no stick me!” i tell her.

“hiro, don’t be a wuss!” she answer, “stick out arm and let me draw blood. we have to run many test to see how you doing.”

“wuss? what does wuss mean?” i ask her.

“wuss is person who afraid a lot,” she answer.

a hero must never be wuss, so i decide to give her my arm to take blood. she take many vial of blood. i swear, my nurse like vampire. maybe she no run test on blood. maybe she take it somewhere and drink.

i also get to meet peter-san no girlfriend, emma-san, while in hospital. emma-san is what some young america-jin call emo. peter-san also very emo. i think they make good match. anyhow, emma-san come in room and tell me she discover that she have ability. she deaf, but she can see sound. she not very happy with new power.

“how do i make power turn off?” she ask me. she sound like she afraid of new ability. many people afraid of new ability.

“you can’t turn off power,” i explain, “it not like light swit-chi. it part of you.”

i tempted to tell her many other people wish they have ability, but no have. she very lucky. ability is part of her so she should shut up and live with it. a hero should never be rude, so i decide not to say that. emma-san leave so i start to think of new way to help her. then, i discover that there talent show on floor for kid. i decide to do magic trick. before show, i take blanket from bed and use it as magician no cape. my gown no fit so good, and blanket cover back. i no want to give people show during magic show, ne?

magic show go very well, and emma-san start to learn that power not bad. everyone happy and applaud except for boy in back row. he keep saying, “this very stupid,” and “these magic tricks suck” during performance. he even throw spitball. why is some american teenager very obnoxious? during magic show, i decide to play “magic trick” on him. i stop time, take ipod he listening to during show, and turn volume up…all the way. he very surprised when i start time again. maybe that teach him not to be brat.

after magic show, nurse very mad.

“you keep your japanese tush in this bed,” she tell me.

then she take out needle and say, “now i give you something to calm you down.”

no no no! i no like needle!” i say, but she hold me down and give me shot.

after shot, i talk to emma-san. then i remember one person i forget to add to list. charlie-san! how can i be so stupid and forget charlie-san. i care for her very much, but she still die. emma-san give me paper and pencil. i add charlie-san to list. then, emma-san leave and shot take effect. i get sleepy. very sleepy. i sleep for many hour. when i wake up, i hear beautiful music. at first, i think that i die in sleep and go to heaven, but then i discover that it was just emma-san playing music. her music very pretty. it attract everyone on floor to room like light attract fly or sugar attract ant. maybe emma-san no ability like pied-piper, ne?

when emma-san see me, she get annoyed. tried to get me to go back to bed. instead, i decide to teleport. people at that hospital so annoying. and hospital in america so expensive. hospital also like vampire, only this time it drink money. how can america-jin put up with?

so i teleport-o back three year to see charlie-san. i wonder what she say when she see me in hospital gown. hopefully, she no think i escape from mental hospital, ne?

okay everybody! time to go save charlie-san! ja ne!

The Universe and Boys and Girls too!

2009-10-24T12:09:00.001-06:00

Ok, so you know how nothing is EVER my fault right? Well its not my fault that both boys and girls think I'm peppy and cute. Heck, even gay boys think I'm adorable.

But my wholesome all-American vibe has taken another step! Get this. My roomie Gretchen, who is kinda weird in cute Juno kind of way... I turned her into a lesbian! Or at least bi. I know it was me because there's no way someone around me could have anything different or interesting about them. It would be an overwhelming soap opera.

Anyway, so I was all "Gretchen, you totally killed Annie! You are NOT allowed to do anything more interesting than me! Jeez, don't you know how my life works? What's your problem?"

And then she kissed me and I was all "oh,". Because there's nothing new about that. "That explains everything," I told her.

"You aren't freaked out?" She asked nervously.

"Um, no? I'm totally used to it. So hey, I'm gonna go pick up Chinese take-out or something, kay?"

So while I was walking to the on campus takeout place, I did a little bit of self-analysis. I mean I did feel kind of bad for turning Gretch into a lesbian. "But its not like its a bad thing right?" I asked myself. "Gay people are cool. I even went out with a gay guy for while... and then a straight guy. And then a nerd...

And don't forget the rapist!

And its not like I've never done any expirementing before..."

And then I got it! The universe is not about gay or bi or nerds. Its about love. You just need love, right? Yes! "LOVE MAKES THE WORLD SPIN!" I cried into the chinese take-out place. And thats when I had another epiphany. I know! I'm so on a roll right!

The cheap Chinese take-out reminded me of another person who's been down on love and smells like Chinese food.

"OMG DAD!" I shrieked as I popped into his dingy appartment. He quickly closed his laptop. Poor guy. Must be resorting to porn or something.

"Hey, Claire-Bear, what's new?"

I shrugged. "Nothin' much. Gretch might have slipped me some tongue but no big,"

"What?"

"Ok, so I know how to help you, Dad. You need to get some-"

"New guns? Cats?"

"What? No! You need some love!"

"Aw, Claire-Bear..." He wrapped me in a hug.

"Well its no secret that I love you dad, but my sexual pursuers are a bit overwhelming right now. Get it? You need some sexual healing!"

"I'm sorry, sounds like you just said the word 'sex'. I'm pretty sure I told the Haitian to wipe that from your head..."

"So can I have some quarters in exchange for that awesome advice?"

And then all of the sudden, the Universe granted me another gift. A visit from my Super-Cute-Uncle Peter!

But he didn't even look at me! He and my dad totally scampered off together to who knows where leaving me with nothing but a baggie of quarters!

Later, as I put my reallky cute panties in the dryer, I realized that I should be happy that my dad has found consolation in Super-Cute-Uncle Peter. But no, both should know that Uncle-Super-Cute-Peter belongs to me! And so does Dad! But in a totally non sexual way! "Why, Universe, why? Why are you so confusing?"

"I ask myself that every day," A very small voice said from behind.

"Oh, hi... Linus, right? What are you doing here?"

"Muggle's clothes are in the washer at home. I have to wash mine here. Anyway, I know what its like to be ignored, so if you ever want to talk sis..."

"Hold that thought I just got a text." It was a pix message from Dad. "Meet your new brother" it said.

"OMG! I've always wanted a brother! He's even kinda hot!" I cried to the laundromat. As I left with my clothes, I was hit with another epiphany. Uncle Super Cute Peter and Dad weren't doing anything sketchy behind my back! Maybe the Universe really is all about love. And everyone, boys and girls, seems to love me... and I love everyone back so... I'm the center of the universe?

All Too Normal Activity of the Invisible Man

2009-10-23T04:49:00.005-06:00

or: Why those with overactive imaginations

should avoid the cinema

No. This is not a post by Dr. Morewordsthannecessary Suresh. It's me, Claude Rains, the Invisible Man. Wanted to post about what Tarot and I have been up to since she last posted. Like she told you lot, we hadda leave our last town thanks to Zombies. Fortunately the Puppet Master made short work of the undead infestation. We found another town, this one with no Zombies (I checked) and it had this great building with a shop and a half decent flat over it for rent. Perfect place to set up shop again. Which we did. Of course this town that we've set up shop in would have to be one of those playing that new movie Paranormal Activity. And, of course, Tarot wanted to go see it. While I don't mind movies- I get in free for obvious reasons- I was concerned about the effect this particular movie would have on Tarot. The conversation went something like this:

"C'mon I really wanna see this!" She said, pleading.

"You're gettin' your own ticket if we go." I said, a serious expression on my face.

"OK. Just promise you'll sit near me?" she replied, still pleading.

I sighed. I'd thought that refusing to sneak her in to this film would have been a deterrent. "I will but are you sure this is a good idea? Every bloody time you hear our current building settle at night you go daft on me."

"It's a movie on a subject that fascinates me."

"I had noticed. Thought you got your fix for that watchin' it on the telly."

She gave a me a look. Not a dirty look but one of those half really pleading for me to go along and totally determined to go alone if she had to looks. I knew then that Tarot was going to see the movie, regardless of what I said, and nothing short of tying her up would stop her. The thought did cross my mind, but tying up Tarot would eliminate any chance of having her attract the attention of the Carnival we both want to find, so I said, "OK, fine. I'll go with you and I'll sit with you, but you are buyin' your own ticket and don't blame me if you're too scared to sleep afterwards."

"Thanks!" She said smiling and gave me a hug which I returned awkwardly. Not really one for domestic stuff, me.

So off to the theater we went. The movie was quite good. Not gonna give you too much there. I'm no reviewer and there are plenty o' those out there, so you can read what they wrote if that's what you're lookin' for. What I will tell you is it that clarified somethin' I'd told Tarot about why the Company had me executed rather than sent to level 5 when I went rogue: people fear what they can't see. It's that simple. It was a lesson about to be reinforced unintentionally later that night.

Sometime much later, we returned to the flat we were renting over our shop. I woke up in the middle of the night and I was thirsty. I decided to get up and grab a beer from the fridge. Now I should mention, after 7+ years of bein' in hiding, and bein' on my own, I have a habit of going invisible when I wake up. I'm still workin' on trying to stay invisible when I sleep. I reckon you can't shoot someone you can't see and this had never been a problem before, even after I started travelling with Tarot. Until that night, that is. I should also point out that the building we're currently in is rather old with plenty of creaky floorboards. I had my socks on, but not my boots, and anyone in the building would have heard me walking to the kitchen, even though I was makin' an effort to be quiet. I got there and when I reached into the fridge to grab a beer I heard Tarot let out a blood curdling scream behind me. I turned round to see what had scared her and I realized that it was me, or rather the fact that Tarot had thought some unseen force had been making noise and opened the fridge. I let go of the beer and headed for Tarot to stop her screaming, taking her into invisibility as I made contact with her.

"Bloody hell, woman! It's me! I just wanted a beer for goodness sake!"

She looked relieved and stopped screaming,

though I did have my hand over her mouth as having the police show up really wouldn't do. I took my hand away when I was sure she wouldn't scream or anythin' like that.

"I'm sorry, Claude. I had this really weird dream and then I heard something while I was still half asleep and when I saw what I thought was the

fridge opening by itself..."

I shook my head. "I tried to warn you. If I'd been a demon or whatever, what would I have wanted with the fridge? I'd like to think, that if I were somethin' supernatural aimin' to scare you that I'd have been makin' a lot more noise as well."

"Yeah. As usual you're right."

"Back to bed with you. Don't need you gettin' a migraine. We both know you can't read when you get one and if you can't read we won't have any customers or any chance of gettin' the attention of the Sullivan Brothers Carnival."

Tarot went back to bed and since her room is huge (I'd taken the glorified closet- "two bed room flat" pah!) I moved my bed in there. I'm a light sleeper, and beyond the usual old building settling noises, I didn't hear anythin' strange. I know Tarot finally got some sleep, I heard her snoring, but she didn't sleep very well. If I thought I could trust him, I'd see if the Haitian was about. Tarot was barmy enough before this. The last thing I need is Tarot going insomniac, as well.

It raining pool boys

2009-10-22T11:49:00.001-06:00

I swear to baby Jesus, since Mummy left Father, it has been a parade of pool boys. When I use the term "boys", I mean males that have the IQ of Steve O. It is October for Buddha's sake! Why do we still have a pool boy?

Her first pool was Roy:

Roy was this brain dead footballer. He had his own "pool cleaning" business. Mummy claimed that she found him in the yellow pages. I think she meant she found his phone number on the wall at some trashy Walmart. His work outfit consisted of jeans and pierced nipples. I don't understand why pierced nipples unless he plays for both teams. I wouldnt be caught dead wearing that.
At first, he just came over once a week to clean the tub. After a few weeks, he says that the tub neeed "every other day service". Mummy agreed to it and his pieced nipples was here quite a bit. I was quite upset with the developments. Mummy was using my money to pay this brain dead jock. That money goes to my pampering fund. I tried to tell her but she said that she didn't want to get sick from this tub. She gave me a choice: either she dies for germs in the tub or she lives and will not ship me to father. I for one do not live on Chinese food. (Sorry Father)
Roy started to do house hold chores for Mummy all the time. She would throw her ring down the drain at nine P.M. and Roy would come right over and take care of it. Mummy always played Def Leppard when he came by. Then Mummy would move me up in Claires former room when he "fixed" stuff. After awhile of being here, He would answer the phone here like he owned the place. He would "accidentally" kick me. I know it is on purpose, cause he have this messed up look in his eyes. He knows darn well I cant help myself.
When I met him, I wanted to bit him so bad. My plan was to knock down some flea meds that she had to give me. I would bite him, then, from the flea meds, start to foam at the mouth to scare him. I would also make a fake paper saying that I had rabies. But before I could get my plan in motion, he quit coming.
Now, we have Tommy as our current "pool boy". Correct me if I wrong but why does she need a poolboy in Autumn. I would ask that but I want to be eat. Tommy is OK. Nicer than Roy. At least he doesn't kick me. Mummy hasnt thrown her rings in the garbage disposal yet. Hopefully, I don't have to start call him father or I might just have to fake rabies.

Note to self though: I might have to put DFS on speed dial.

A word from the Original Carnie Bad-Boy

2009-10-21T12:00:00.002-06:00

Why is it that I’m the one who looks like a jerk in front of Lydia when it should be Sylar? And how come everybody witnesses me getting my butt kicked by guys who look like they are the poster children for Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Let’s recap shall we? First I was beat in a fight by Peter the emo EMT driver. How is it that he suddenly was able to mimic all my smooth martial arts moves in a matter of seconds? It took me years to master those skills and has nothing to do with my abilities and suddenly he’s all badass like Chuck Norris? Second, how is it that some scrawny tall effeminate one-eye browed man could knock me back by flicking his hands in the air? Is that all he’s got? I’d like to see him try and fight me without his abilities. Then we’ll see who’s bad like Chuck Norris.

Sylar needed to be put in his place so I could go back to being the resident bad boy of the group and to make sure he keeps his hands off Lydia. Not that it should matter, because I always thought he preferred men to woman, but these days it’s hard to tell. But who knew the big bad wolf, the one who steals abilities would turn out to be such an emotional nutcase in the house of mirrors? He wanted to know who he was right? Instead he ended up stumbling out puking like a fourteen year old girl consuming her first shot of tequila.

So when Samuel set him up with the detective I knew this was my chance to be the resident bad-boy again. I just had an inkling he wouldn’t able to go through with taking care of carnie business. Especially when he was screaming “I didn’t do it, this isn’t me,” In the house of mirrors. Oh Boo-Hoo, get over it! He wanted to know the truth, was it our fault he couldn’t handle it?

So while Sylar decided he should go all noble and let Detective Lubbock get away, I had to go in and clean up after him, by doing the old slice and dice routine. So much for redemption. Sylar looked at me as if I were a monster, or worse-that I killed a GhostBuster!

He may be one of us now, but I’ll be watching him closely. At least it looks like I don’t have to worry about Samuel getting all touchy feely with me anymore now that he has a new Golden Boy. I don’t know if I should be relieved or pissed off.

My New Job

2009-10-20T11:39:00.007-06:00

My job search wasn't going very well. It seemed I kept becoming distracted by YouTube videos of cats.

"Wow, I never realized the Internet could be used for so much more than stalking," I said aloud before there was a mysterious knock at my door.

Naturally, I was peeved. I'm the only one allowed to be mysterious here. This is my bachelor pad, and I'm the king of mysterious. But then, I don't knock. I tend to mysteriously kick open the door.

It was Claire at the door, along with her laundry. "I, like, need quarters," she whined. "Oh, my God, look at my, like, lingerie. It's so cute!"

"No, thanks," I replied. Suddenly, there was a sound from inside my bathroom.

Wait a minute! I'm not defecating. That must mean...INTRUDER!

I know what some of you are thinking. Perhaps grabbing a gun to shoot someone for using my restroom is a bit of an overreaction. But you don't understand! I'm in a bachelor pad now. That means there's only one bathroom in this place, and it's mine. A guy needs his turf, a place where he can be king, and nobody but me gets to sit on my throne.

"Oh, my god! It's, like, my totally sexy and totally cute uncle, like, Peter!" Claire celebrated.

"So, can I shoot him?" I asked with my sights trained on his forehead.

"Um, no, Dad!" Claire replied.

"But he sat on my throne!" I protested before giving in. "Oh, alright. What are you doing here, Peter?"

"My powers. Sadness and despair, like my soul, flushed down the toilet," he...answered? "What are any of us doing here?"

"Well, your soul better not have clogged it," I shot back, "or I'll have to use that special hair of yours as a plunger."

Peter finally went on about Hiro Nakamura wilting like a Japanese hasu flower and explained that he wanted my help in finding him a healer.

"Well, I have been looking for a job," I said. "How much does it pay?"

Peter's job paid nothing, which was actually more than I had been making as a professional cereal-eater. So, I decided to take him up on it. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of a shotgun wielded by some brat more whiny than Peter.

"Don't shoot," I suggested.

"Back away, man! I'll blow your head off, man!" the boy counter-offered.

"Look, son," I calmed him, "you're not a killer. You're a healer."

Then, Peter appeared from nowhere and the boy killed him!

"Hmmm...I guess I was wrong," I said kneeling by the soon-to-be corpse. "What do you say, tiger? Want to give healing another try?"

"I'm scared," he cried. "Everything I touch dies!"

"Come on, sport," I encouraged. "I'm touching you."

I guess that was all he needed, a little encouragement and non-sexual petting. It felt so right. Maybe it was because I always wanted to have a son, but something told me I found my new job, a job I was born to do.

I'm going to be a father!

Stepford, Virginia

2009-10-19T08:11:00.000-06:00

Sorority girls are evil.

I know what you're thinking, really. I don't trust popular girls because they're bitches. But, I'm telling you, they're evil. This chick, Becky Taylor? I think she's the ringleader. Just look at her. I'm serious.

Exhibit A: She's got horns like the devil!

She's just too nice. And the way she separated Claire and I? She's up to something. I just know it. It kind of reminds me of an episode of this show I used to watch when I was a kid. Oh, what was it called?

Just can't think of what it would have been...

Anyway, if I had been trying to actually kill somebody, my aim would have been way better. This timing is horrible, though. Claire's so paranoid, I had to tell her about... Well... It's not such a big deal, right? College is all about this sort of stuff. But that's why I'm so worried about this sorority stuff! Those girls are going to brainwash Claire. But apparently my speed dating audition impressed someone - maybe that Allison girl - so I get to pledge, too.

Psi Alpha Chi, you're going to have to get through me if you want Claire.

An Undead Problem

2009-10-16T07:00:00.004-06:00

As he wrote in his last post, Claude had found us, what seemed like a great place to set up shop while trying to find the Carnival. The trouble was there was a major drawback. No, not government operatives or anything looking like Company type. We were haunted but not by ghosts. Ghosts I could have dealt with, even worked with. This was much worse. It was Zombies!

Every night they came out and you couldn't go outside. The locals were totally in denial about it. Claude had tried spying on the locals to find out more and I'd even openly asked a few about the Zombies but no one would admit to anything, and Claude couldn't find a reason either, though he did find some decent beer. On the plus side, during the day, at least, we were doing a good business and making a lot of money. Sadly, there was also no sign of anyone from Sullivan Brothers Carnival. I'm wondering if they had avoided this town completely due to the Zombies. The trouble is, the only time we could move out was at night both due to our lease and the fact that Claude prefers to travel at night. Granted he can cloak us both but he also believes in hedging our bets.

Then we had a lucky break, but it didn't seem like one at first (though not the one we were hoping for) . We were having a slow day, and I was dreading nightfall. It wasn't easy to sleep knowing there were zombies outside, not to mention the racket they made. It was late afternoon. We had a visitor but I knew, even before he began looking outside anxiously, he had not come in for a reading. Claude was invisible and, as usual, not far from me, so I heard him curse under his breath when our guest came in. I gave Claude a questioning look in his direction (where I figured he was standing) and he whispered "Puppet Master."

Being as the man whom Claude called the "Puppet Master" hadn't tried to do anything to me and my gift wasn't giving me a bad vibe I decided to talk to him. I got the feeling he could use some help. He realized I was another Special and he was really nice. He told me his name was Jason and that he was going to be meeting Lauren, a lady friend,the next day, in the next town over, but he needed a place to stay at least until nightfall as there were some really nasty people following him. He also explained about what he could do and that he was trying to make a new life for himself. I explained about the Zombies and after I convinced him that I wasn't crazy he said, "Great. I can't travel but at least I don't have to worry about the jerks who are following me come nightfall." Jason looked sad.

I thought for a moment. I wanted out of this town as did Claude and Jason as well, and we all needed the cover of night. "Jason, does your gift work on Zombies?" I asked.

"I suppose it would. They're less intelligent and therefore less likely to fight control. How many are we talking here?" He looked hopeful.

"About 50 to 100." I said.

"Crap." He said, looking worried. "For that many I'd need to make them all do something carefully planned out ahead of time."

"Maybe you could make them all Thriller dance until they fell apart?" I offered.

Jason looked disgusted and said, "That's sick!" Then he gave me a wide eyed grin and said, "I like it!"

When night fell, the Zombies came out, and Jason used his power. Next thing you knew, it was like the classic video, Thriller, only gorier.

Once he'd trashed the Zombies, Jason said good bye and headed off to where he was meeting Lauren. I told him thanks for taking care of the Zombies and wished him luck.

Claude decloaked once Jason had left and said, "Nice work. He really has changed from the files I'd read. I also could have sworn his name was listed as Eric Doyle. No matter." Claude shrugged, "I've already packed us up. Let's get the 'ell out of 'ere." And so we left.

I'm not sure where Claude and I are headed, now, but I really hope there are no more Zombies. And if you're reading this Jason (or Eric), You totally rock man!

The Case of the Missing Carnival

2009-10-14T12:00:00.004-06:00

We all have deep dark secrets hidden away in the closet along with numerous skeletons, some real and some metaphorical. Lydia has a daughter and a questionable lifestyle choice of being a vegetarian. Samuel secretly enjoys dressing up as a tranny, please don’t let the black nail polish and black eye liner fool you into believing he’s an old school Goth, or he’s trying to project the right atmosphere for the carnival. I often question his sexuality as he has this habit of invading my personal space by getting all touchy feely with me.

Even I have secrets, some I’m ashamed of, other’s I’m not. But here, and today I am going to reveal my secret confession, my true passion, one I’ve kept hidden not only from Samuel but Lydia as well. I wasn’t exactly lying when Samuel confronted me about the wad of cash Lydia gave me to go and find her daughter. I actually do grift, I won’t lie, I enjoy swindling people out of their money, but my real passion isn’t grifting, it’s solving mysteries. In fact, that’s how I earn most of the money I hide from Samuel. In fact, I think I feel a clue coming on right now.

Has anybody ever wondered how the Carnival can disappear and reappear? One minute it’s there and the next minute it’s gone? There are a lot of theories, and I plan on exploring all options so I can solve this mystery. I have many theories from Rebecca having another ability to allow her to be a giant sorority girl (which is scary when you think about it) who could block the carnival with her powers of invisibility to Samuel using his abilities to shift the earth around so that it made the carnival appear invisible.

However, I recently discovered that the carnival can move. And not as in packing up all the rides, and traveling across the highway. Somewhere deep inside the carnival, underground is a secret wheel that when turned it will move the carnival to another location allowing it to move through time and space. I know, that sounds crazy, but is that really as farfetched as a time traveler who looks like he over-dosed on laxative in order to teleport?

Now that Samuel’s secret is out, and the mystery of the disappearing carnival is solved tune in next week for my expose on Lydia: The secret diary of a carnie!

Argumentum ad Ignorantiam

2009-10-13T11:26:00.008-06:00

It has been posited to me on several occasions that I, a professor of profundity, have ceased to exist. "Where's Dr. Suresh," the curious coeds at the university where I thought often inquire.

My answer to them, the retort that would surely assuage the meaningless void in the pits of their stomachs, is simply that I do exist. I conduct cognitive activity within the neuronal core of my being, therefore, I am.

Unfortunately, it is an answer that I may not deliver myself. And without that answer, how can I expect belief? How can I expect anyone to know of my existence when I no longer seek to prove it?

There was a time, a moment, in my life when to prove my own existence, my own intelligence and influence on this great meaningless world of ours, on this unguided path of Destiny, was my only desire. However, now I find the only need I have is the bare necessity of redemption. If even the greatest of organic killing machines can feel remorse for their murderous actions, then surely I must too.

The bear necessity of shame.

What is it that causes this great swelling of shame within me? Is it my failure to accomplish any scientific goal, the only kind of goal worth pursuing, with the plethora of data supplied to me by my father's research? Or was it my utter and disgusting mistreatment of a woman who I found udderly worth discussing that sent me down into this lonely hole of regret and remorse?

"I found him," an observant and search-capable young person announced, "he's hiding under his desk."

I crawled out of my cozy comfort zone and stood in front of the gazing third eyes of my organic chemistry class. "Yes," I enunciated, "it is me, Dr. Suresh, destiny's taxi driver and the sole arbiter of my father's research."

"Why are you hiding under your desk?"

"Yeah, class started last month."

"Have you been there the whole time?"

"I love you on Parks and Recreation!"

Good points, all. How could I explain to these impressionable minds the cruelties of the world which I single-handedly uncovered during my own scientific quest around the globe? How could I crush the ambitious desires of these would be do-gooders by revealing to them the true and awful nature of the world, and its inhabitants? How could I face them knowing that I represent that very indecency, that very worm in the apple of humanity, that keeps us from functioning as a wholesome society, a tasty and scrumptious apple pie?

"Umm...where did he go?" the students pondered aloud.

As long as I can remain outside their visual field, blocked from their world view, I could take comfort in feeling no shame, in feeling no remorse, in feeling no anything.

"Peekaboo," exhorted before getting the better of my childish need for fun and games, escaping back into the depths of the unseen.

When something cannot be proven to exist, does it? Perhaps Destiny is not as complicated as we often believe it to be. Perhaps we are shown what is, and not shown what isn't. I hope I can remain not shown, for that may be the only way I can ever be shown redemption.

The Great Photocopy Caper

2009-10-12T08:21:00.001-06:00

today i get many phone call for dial-a-hero.

many many phone call. tadashi-san keep calling and saying that he going to jump from roof because he get fired for photocopying butt. i try to help him. i help him 47 time.

I know sometime i make trouble …

…but who photocopy bum 47 time in 47 different way? tadashi-san very strange. i think maybe he have serious problem. need to get psychological help for problem with exhibitionism.

ando-kun say tadashi-san's butt very famous in company. a picture of photocopy went around company email several month ago.

if tadashi-san knew he butt of many office joke, he jump for sure. anyhow, today i learn that some people destined to photocopy butt no matter what do. i almost lose patience and tell tadashi-san to jump already. he do many people big favor.

one time, i go to his office at 11:00 am for 16th time and say, “yes…i know. i supposed to talk to kimiko-chan. you tell me that 15 time already. i will as soon as i stop tadashi-san from jumping off roof because he get caught photocopying butt.”

ando-kun look very shocked and say, “what you mean you time-travel 15 time already? and you doing it to stop tadashi-san for copying butt? tadashi-san is big pervert. you risk life for big pervert? i say let him jump.”

then, ando-kun try to stop me from going to roof after tadashi-san call me again. you know, giving time-traveler hard time is very bad idea. they can create much trouble. i stop time and then dump slushie from convience store on ando-kun’s head. it stain his shirt a pretty shade of pink. i thought it was very funny.

“what the hell, hiro? what you do that for?” he shout after me as i run away.

i hope that tadashi-san would not jump again. that way, ando-kun would be mad at me and not talk to me all day. more importantly, he stop lecturing me about having talk with kimiko-chan. unfortunately, tadashi-san jump and i have to go back in time again. i have to go back in time 31 more time!

now i have bad headache. i think i broke brain after dealing with troublesome tadashi-san.

I Quit

2009-10-11T07:42:00.001-06:00

For all who will remember, this is the creep who used to be my boss.

Now, of course, yours truly managed to rid her beautiful self of him by transferring to the political team of Crazy Gorgeous Hottie Senator Petrelli, which didn't work out so well either.

Ahem. Yes.

But, as part of my ongoing crusade to share with the world the loveliness that is me, I realized that I would need a media outlet in order to broadcast my beauty to all those in need of it. And, unfortunately, I neither own nor can easily buy a media outlet, mostly because I depleted most of my ready cash sometime ago as I was evading the government by revamping my wardrobe.

Fugitive fashion. Oh yes.

So, I went to the Dirty Old Man.

"Tracy!" he exclaimed, staring at my chest.

"Robert," I drawled, pretending to be attracted to him. "How are you? You're looking well-off - uh, I mean, well."

"Ogle ogle ogle?" he asked, a thin stream of drool leaking from his chapped lips. I briefly thought of freezing it, but then realized it would make him look like he had a single long, protruding tooth, which would enhance his ugliness to the point of physically blinding me.

"Well, darling," I said, batting my eyelashes prettily, "since you've missed me so much, how about giving me that television channel you always said you were going to give me?"

"Ogle..." The Dirty Old Man paused thoughtfully. "Ogle, ogle ogle ogle?" he offered.

"Get rid of the previous owner? That's all?" I snorted disbelievingly. "All right then, point and shoot, baby."

I hated calling him "baby."

He beamed, showing his cavity-riddled teeth, and handed me an address. And because my Super-Gorgeous Water Action allows me to travel through sewers without so much as dirtying my hair, I soon found myself at the decrepit, ostentatious doorstep of my intended target, attached to an equally decrepit, ostentatious house.

I rang the doorbell. "Ding-dong," it said, hideously.

The door creaked open, and I couldn't believe my eyes.

It was the most pathetic old bag I'd ever seen, so misshapen and malformed that I couldn't bring myself to kill her - not out of pity, you understand, but because the ugliness of her fleeing soul would've ruined my clothes. It was pathetic, really.

"Squawk?" she asked, vulture-like.

"Madame, I just want to tell you, you are very ugly," I said politely, and slammed the door in her face.

Flush with anger, I stomped away from the hideous creature's house, finally realizing what a fool I'd been. Of course I couldn't work for Dirty Old Man Malden - he was too weak to even get rid of a wingless vulture-woman on his own. That was why he'd needed me.

But no more.

I resolved, then and there, to put an end to ugliness on my own terms. No more working for geriatric politicos with limp, flaccid platforms, no no no. I would be a solo act, a vigilante, a lone glamorous voice in the dark wilderness of mediocrity.

I would be America's Next Top Model.

So Malden, baby, if your senile old eyes can even still read this...

I quit.

Filling a Void

2009-10-10T12:31:00.006-06:00

"But if I can't shoot people," I thought out loud, "how can I be happy?

I realized that the world was missing something. There just wasn't enough good in the world, and perhaps part of the reason was me. I did a lot a bad. But part of the reason was NBC, too. They cancelled My Name Is Earl.

How can we be expected to be good people when television doesn't guide us that direction? Instead of teaching us how to right past wrongs, television teaches us how to be confused and stranded on a tropical island, how to heal hospital patients with insults and how to laugh at fat people doing whatever it is fat people do.

There simply isn't a moral guide for us anymore, and so it's no wonder I'm morally gray.

It's up to me to fill that void. It's up to me to right the wrongs of my past and set an example to everyone else. I will have to inspire them to do good, and who knows, maybe there could be some shooting.

"There can't be any shooting," Claire explained.

"But that's my favorite part," I whined. She, of course, was right, I realized. "What if I used my taser gun?"

Claire rolled her eyes. "Just, like, be a better person, duh!"

I suppose I might as well give it a try. There was a void needing to be filled in the world, and I'm just the person to do it. I've got the looks, the wisdom, the list-writing capabilities, the gun--

"No gun!"

--the sling-shot and the determination. I could do this. And maybe I could even get my own TV show.

My name is Noah.

I'm just trying to be a better person.

The Invisible Man Has a Plan

2009-10-09T07:24:00.002-06:00

I'm not exactly a people person but going solo just hasn't been workin' that well, lately. As I'd said in my last post, I'd had a small group, after bein' solo for 7 years, but then those soldiers in black (as Tarot calls 'em) showed up and you lot know the rest. So after that, I had to work out a plan of how to get the attention of the Sullivan Brothers Carnival without gettin' caught by those Tarot and me and the Carnies are hidin' from. Not an easy task and far more complicated than balancin' plates. I don't care what my ex-colleague says. Took a lot of blood, sweat, and beers, but I finally came up with a fine tuned plan. While I wouldn't call it fool proof, it does have a high chance of success.

Although Tarot pointed out that the Sullivan Brothers

Carnival likely have someone on board with a gift similar to hers, most who see just have either precognition or psychometry. Tarot sees more than that. Definitely a plus and a point in our favour. Also, of the two of us, she's also the flashier, as I much prefer to stay unseen. After all, I am the invisible man and I'm also the one best experienced at what to watch for. So I told Tarot that she would have to be bait- I mean the enticement. Granted, Tarot showing off her gift was as likely to attract undesirables as well as the Carnie folks we were seeking, so I'd have to stick close and keep watch over her invisibly. That was the one part of my plan Tarot didn't object to. Seemed enthusiastic about it, actually.

We needed supplies, and although Tarot never complains about my habit o' nickin' things, she's not exactly the most graceful assistant. And she has a bad habit o' bein' easily distracted, and her gettin' distracted was doubly likely where I planned to go liftin'. So I told her to stay put. She didn't like that but she listened. I found a string o' shops full o' mystical flashy hoo-hah and psychedelic stuff. Stuff that the late crack head painter might have liked. Reckoned it woulda been right up his alley, if it weren't for the fact that he's dead. Very reminiscent of an acid trip directed by a new age guru with eastern tour guides. I nicked a crystal ball, some nag champa incense, some psychedelic tapestries, and some suitable costumes for Tarot. Tarot was happy to see me return, if you'll pardon the pun, no shock there, but she actually seemed to really like the crazy costumes I'd brought her. She liked the crystal ball as well, though she insisted it wasn't somethin' she was used to usin'. I told her, "It's just for show, luv. The marks will expect it. Besides, y'never know; you might actually be able to do somethin' with it." I let her get dressed and, I must say, she certainly looked the part, with what I'd given her. I told Tarot to practice lookin' like a seer as well as to practice with her cards and the new crystal ball, and I went out again, alone, on another supply run.

This time I was lookin' for more mundane stuff. I went several different places in search of cash as well as for some travelling cases to put our new gear in. I reckoned that one way or another we'd be doin' a lot o' movin' around either once we managed to connect with the Carnie or while trying to find them and avoid undesirables. I also needed to find us an 'alf decent base of operations to work out of. Found a cheep storefront bein' rented by this bloke who was more interested in the money I handed 'im than askin' any questions. Nicked a few more supplies and made a sign for the place then fetched Tarot to set up shop. So we're all moved in and waitin' for customers and the Carnie folks to show. All in all, it's not a bad gig. Tarot and I have done this sort o' thing before so we should hold up well enough and long enough for an opportunity to go elsewhere to present itself. Hopefully, that elsewhere will be with the Carnival.

For the Love of Salad

2009-10-08T11:49:00.007-06:00

Hello, it’s Edgar again, the resident Carnie Hit man who has the moves of a Sith Lord and the sword wielding skills of Snake Eyes. There are rules at the carnival, and one of them is no contact with the outside world. That means no cell phones, but what’s bigger than that is no outside food. We have to live off artery clogging deep fried corn dogs, garlic fries and cotton candy. It’s a fast food lovers heaven, but smuggle in a salad? With Fat Free Dressing? You might as well just ask Samuel to dig you an early grave. So when Lydia asked me to make a side trip to Whole Foods, after I gutted Danko, injured Bennet and got back the compass, I quickly agreed. It’s hard looking this good by living on fast food alone. If Samuel knew we were conspiring against him I can honestly say I don’t want to know what he would do.

“Did you get it?” Lydia asked.

“Taking a big risk here, you know we’re not supposed to eat Salad,” I said.

“I know Edgar but I had to have it, I have to tell you something,” she placed a hand on my arm, “I’m,” Lydia looked into my eyes, almost ashamed, “A vegetarian.”

“You’re a vegetarian?” I asked in confusion.

“I became one when I was a teenager, and I was scared,” Lydia turned away.

“You stopped eating meat?” I asked trying not to judge her life style choice.

“Did you think I wanted to give up meat? I was too young, I was too different, one day I left my last hot dog at my sisters house and ran away,” Lydia said. "I ran away to here!"

“It’s okay,” , I said reassuringly.

“No it’s not,” Lydia said, “My tattoos have never moved on their own before, something is happening, I think I’m supposed to eat a hot dog. Oh Edgar, I don’t want to be a hotdog. I need to be alone right now with my salad.”

I left Lydia’s trailer, confused as to what I should do. But she trusted me and I knew where my loyalties lie. Later on when I was practicing my knife throwing Samuel approached me.

“Lydia seems upset about something? Is she unhappy, dissatisfied with her food?” Samuel asked.

“She didn’t say anything to you about the corn dogs?” I said.

“Not a peep,” Samuel said.

“Okay,” I said.

“You and Lydia are free to eat your own food and your own mistakes,” Samuel said. Then he had to go and one-up me by taking one my knives and hitting the bull’s-eye.

Is it so wrong that I don’t want to live off carnival food? Does this make me un-loyal because I want to eat a salad?

The Plot Holes and Pit Falls of Being a Single Parent

2009-10-07T09:27:00.001-06:00

What happened? I really don't get it. Suddenly, I'm on the edge of divorce and my life is falling apart.

It baffles my mind how removing Sandra from my life was like pulling the carpet out from under me. I mean, she wasn't even a big part of my life before. When she was home, all her time was spent grooming Mr. Muggles or trying to remember why she just entered a room. Did she really ever DO anything?

Not really.

And yet, here I am without her and nothing seems to be working out. Somehow I don't have a job, even though Angela and I started a new company. I guess it was a nonprofit organization like General Motors.

And why am I always eating cereal and take-out? I used to be a world-renowned chef!

But now, for some crazy reason, I've become a lazy bum. I'm even packing on extra weight despite a healthy diet of Coco Puffs and General Tso's Chicken.

"You, like, need a job," my Claire Bear suggested.

At first, I thought that idea was insane. I was finally getting to enjoy my retirement. All this me time could be good for me.

"Ooh, look, there's a job in lumber," Claire excitedly showed me the classified ad. "That's like practically paper."

"In its infancy," I corrected her. "But, I'm not good with babies."

"You were, like, good with me," she smiled.

Looking at my hopeful little Claire Bear, I realized I couldn't let her down. That's exactly what I've been doing lately. She doesn't want to see me down in the dumps without a plan. She wants me to go back to being my creepy, stalkery self. She wants a dad on a mission.

Maybe I could sell lumber. How hard could it be? You just find a potential buyer, use The Haitian to knock him out, implant a tracking isotope, offer 10% off if they buy within the next three days, and--"

"Dad," Claire whined, "you, like, have that face."

"What face?" I asked.

"That I'm going to get to shoot somebody face," she answered.

Hmm....I'm going to get to shoot somebody....

Perhaps it is time to come out of retirement. If Brett Favre can still fire off a football at his age, surely I have a few more bullets in my chamber.

Another one bites the dust.

2009-10-06T12:00:00.001-06:00

I just can't manage to keep the men in my family alive. As much as I try, inevitably all of them are in for a dirt nap. It's only a matter of time before the same fate and Peter will cross paths. Though, knowing him, I'm sure he'll have something noble to say before his passing. Ever so trite, yet ever so endearing at the same time. I had hoped that Elle Bishop's hair cut would have shaved the emo out of him, but alas. I'm sure I'll be in for an earful of emo speeches now that Nathan is worm food.

All of that trouble to keep him alive and for what? For that salty, hag of a Ginger to do my dirty work for me. Admittedly, I am impressed by her prowess to get the job done. If it wasn't for the fact that it was my eldest son that she picked off ala Cosa Nostra, I'd raise my Chardonnay glass to her.

Perhaps after I get done slapping her into next week, we can let bygones be bygones and exchange murderous tips whilst we bond over mani-pedi's and salt scrubs. I mean, what's done is done.

With that said, I'd like to take a moment to bid adieu to Nathan; my eldest son, the bane of my existence, that giant pain in my ass, the glorified sperm donor who was technically more trouble than he was worth. May you rest in peace in a place where virgins run free and do gooders cross the line between doing good and being Noah Bennet. All that Bible thumping you did in 2008 has paid off now. May the God you worshiped have mercy on your zombie like soul.

May he have mercy on mine as well. I'm sure it won't be long until we're reunited in the afterlife. Actually, I think I'll be going downwards. Satan actually called my house, and informed me that I had a job and a full service suite waiting for me for when I arrived. In forefront thinking, that's probably a better deal than what I have going on here now. I'm sure the rest of the 12 will be waiting for me, helixes intact, kicking ass and taking names.

You all still have time to bet on me in a death pool. Granted, I'm now the equivalent to Smarty Jones, and the purse may not be high. But I thank you for your support. It's nice to know that someone cares.

Godspeed,
Dame Angela Petrelli