The Witch is Dead

Previously on Mr. Bennet's Diary:

*Ding Dong*

And now, Mr. Bennet's Diary continues...


"Who is it?" I heard from behind the door.

"Room service," I replied, oh-so-cunningly.

Sylar opened the door and flipped on the porch light with his mind. The sudden brightness momentarily blinded me. I fell backwards off the porch.

Sylar screamed and slammed the door shut. "You lied to me!" he yelled. "You're not room service; you're Mr. Glasses and you want to kill me!"

"What was that? I didn't hear you." I hoped he had leaned forward to repeat himself, and apparently he had. I kicked open the kick-openable door and it hit him in the face.

A grand showdown like no other was underway. Sylar did a backflip, landing in the kitchen. I ran after him and he sent knives flying at me with his mind. I dodged them and ducked them and was stabbed by most of them.

But I didn't let it phase me. I was determined to kill this monster. Sylar's relentless mental tossing of various kitchen utensils was getting annoying, but nonetheless, I made my way toward him.

Then, in memory of Hank, I laid the smack down. Sylar couldn't block any of my attacks. I struck with lightening quick speed and drunken cat ferocity.

Me Kicking Sylar

Sylar knew he was outmatched. He could sense it in his gut, feel it in the dent I left in his face, smell it in the urine he left on his floor.

Suddenly, he Force Pushed me into the wall. Before I could get up, he darted like an obese lady darts for the ice cream truck.

I rose calmly and dusted off my nice suit. Then, I made my way to the door. The night was cool and calm. There were no signs of an epic battle underway. I stepped outside, alert to every sound, every move. The flutter of a butterfly engaged me in Judo Chopping mode. I was indeed a fine tuned fighting machine.

But Sylar was nowhere to be found.

And then it hit me. Another rock, that is. I turned around to see a Chevy pickup packed with drunken Mexicans kicking up dirt as it sped away. "Oye, Gringo! Regresarte a los estados unidos!" one yelled at me.

As the dust settled, I noticed an odd sight. The cantina door was missing from its hinges. It was clearly the work of Sylar. I feared for my friend Pavo, who was no doubt still inside, drunk as a Mexican ninja.

I ran inside and saw Pavo's brainless body lying underneath his favorite table. "NooooOOoOoocoOOOoooooo!" I yelled.

Outside the cantina I yelled, "You will pay! You will pay for what you did!" I knew he had heard me. I could feel his presence, like Darth Vader could feel Luke's, but I'm the good guy here, but that doesn't make Sylar my father.

Then I saw a strange chunk of material on the ground. I picked it up, it was soft and mushy. I touched it with my tongue, "Brains!" I said aloud. This wasn't Radical Wheat Monkey Brains, it had to have been Radical Pavo Brains.

Then, there was another piece a few feet away. Then another. And another. It seemed Sylar made a fatal mistake that would lead me right to him.

I only hope he hasn't stolen the Mexican Ninja Ability from Pavo's brain yet. I could picture what he'd be like with that ability. It wasn't a pretty sight.

Mexican Ninja Sylar

I heightened my awareness to prepare for the worst. I may be able to get the drop on Sylar, who moronically left a trail of brain crumbs behind, but his Drunken Ninja fighting style would be difficult to counter with my Paper Salesman Ninja fighting style. But I was ready for the challenge.

Then, I saw the remainder of Pavo's brain, sitting conveniently on a target with a sign labeled, "BRAINZ".



I started to say a few words in remembrance of Pavo, "You were a great Ninja, and an even better Drunk," I began. "Your fascination with cheese has taught me a lot and you will be missed. But I vow to you..."

I was stopped short when I noticed Sylar. He telekinetically pulled on a rope. I realized I had walked right into his trap. There was no escaping this.

The rope pulled, the bowling ball fell. But the metal conveyance flipped the wrong direction, and the ball fell on Sylar's head. He fell to the ground in great pain, nearly knocked unconscious.

I took a knee beside him. "This is it, Gabriel," I said.

"Don't kill me! I only wanted to be special enough to gain the love of AJ McLean."

I pulled out my lucky sheet of 15 LB Translucent Bond paper and folded it into an airplane. The point was sharp. With a quick jab, I put the young brain snatcher out of his misery.

The cold night wind blew gently as I walked back to the cantina. I bidded farewell to Pavo's brainless body and picked up my duffel bag. Clothing and toiletries fell out of it. Weird, I thought. What happened to Jake?

Despite the loss of Jake and my good friend, Pavo, this was a good day. I made the best of the situation and finally killed my nemesis. The witch is dead.