Stuff

It seems like only yesterday Sylar was sound asleep in his little Anti-Power Containment Cell. They escape so fast, don't they?

I often find myself wondering what he may be up to at the moment. Where could he be? He didn't even tell me where he was going. Maybe it was because I was shooting at him when he left. But the gunshots aren't that loud, he could have said something to me. Or at least called.

But I've been trying to get my mind off Sylar for a while. There's so much other things going on right now. Claire seems to hate me. Sandra's losing her memory. And The Haitian is flunking history.

I think Claire's memory erasal didn't go completely as planned. Perhaps the stress from failing a school course caused The Haitian to slip up. She seems to know that I know stuff that she shouldn't know about. Or maybe it's just normal teenage behaviour. Sometimes I feel like I've always been 44. I guess I can't relate to what kids today are going through.

As for Sandra, there's really no hope there. I'm a little saddened, but I still think her parents would leave me their fortune, even if Sandra's in an asylum or dead. So, it's a minor hiccup in the plan, but nothing major. I'm actually looking forward to the decrease in marital nighttime activities. For years I've been trying to convince her we're too old for that. But she would always insist on it. Well, okay, we're not to old for it, but she is. Maybe she'll cool it as a vegetable.

Then there's The Haitian. He used to do so well in history class. In 5th grade, a couple years ago, he even played one of the slaves freed by Lincoln. Originally, he was assigned to be Lincoln, but had problems delivering the Gettysburg Address, so I suggested to the teacher, "Hey, he's Blackish! Why not make him a slave?"