Passing the Time

Well, it looks like I may be here a while. I don't know what's taking Hana so long. My guess is she found a new evil-doer to thwart on the way over. She probably feels that policeman on horses are conspiring against her!!

So, what to do...well, I could sit here and be miserable, possibly lose my mind, and hallucinate about Pee Wee Herman in the corner (I will definitely puke!) or I could get my mind off my situation with a little game.

So, how about a Photo Caption Contest! It was so much fun the first time.

Here are the rules:

1. Post your captions as a comment here.
2. Keep it somewhat PG-13 (my daughter may be reading this!)
3. Be the best and win!

Now for the pictures:

Photo #1

Photo #2

Photo #3

Photo #4

Photo #5

Waiting

Well, they finally took Ted back to his own cell.

"Me want stay!" he screamed as the drug him out from under the bed. "Glasses no find me yet!"

And now I'm all alone. It's no doubt part of their psychological game. You see, Primatech specializes in playing psychological games with its captives. That's why we use all the puns.

They're no doubt watching me, seeing if I go crazy with all this solitude. But they're forgetting I'm a nerd. I'm used to be alone. This won't get to me.

Of course, I usually have WoW to play, or CS. It's actually kind of hard being alone without any of that. I've been playing Minesweeper, but it's just not doing it for me. I need more! I need people!

Well, virtual people anyway. People are overrated, like tea cups. I mean, who even uses tea cups these days? Why bother with the fragile little pieces of ceramic crap? They're too small to fill with a worthwhile drink anyway.

Okay, maybe I am going a little crazy. It's like the room is getting smaller. My only outlet is this web log! The walls can close in on me, but I'll still be able to escape into cyberspace.

And cyberspace is a nice place. There's so much joy here. It's much better than here in this cell. I think I may not be alone anymore! I heard something!

Ah! There it is!


Maybe if I don't move...


..if I don't make any sound...


..it won't notice me!



I'm scared!

Interrogation of Me

"Time to tell us what we want to know," Thompson said.

"Never!" I yelled. I was amazed at my dramatic abilities.

"You will."

"I won't!"

"You will."

"I won't!"

"You won't."

"You will!"

"No, you will."

"Yes, I won't!"

"So, tell me, Bennet," he started, "Why did you start selling paper?"

"I wanted to protect the fragile tea cup people!"

"I see. And who was your first customer?"

"Freddie Mercury. He needed paper for his band, and well, we had him on file as having potential for being evolved."

"Go on."

"Well, I met with him and we discussed the contract. Then later that day, I kidnapped him. But the isotope gun we used on him wasn't clean and he contracted AIDS as a result. I felt terrible! Worse than when Mrs. Agnew flunked me in math for not showing my work."

"Did you enjoy your childhood?"

"No! It was horrible. All the kids would make fun of me."

"You felt angry."

"Yes! I wanted to smash their little tea cup heads. But I couldn't. I didn't have muscles or anything like that. So, I couldn't do anything about it."

"It's okay, Bennet. You can tell me all about it."

"Well, I started exercising. I worked really hard to get in shape. And now I look great. I'm the cool guy now."

"And what's your goal now that you're finally cool?"

"Well, if you don't kill me, I'd like to maybe start my own business. Selling paper probably."

"You realize, of course, that I can't allow that to happen."

"Maybe I could sell pencils?"

"Not if my friend takes a look under your hood." He glanced over at Candace.

"I thought she was a lesbian."

"No, that's not what I meant."

He left. But Candace stuck around. I hope she doesn't look under my hood. Or under my bed. Ted is still hiding.

Visitor

Today I was lucky enough to get a visitor. Unfortunately, it was Ted.

"Me angry with glasses!"

"Why's that?"

"You put me here! I want run free and hunt but you make Ted be trapped."

"I didn't do it, Ted. My evil boss shot you, remember? He's the one you want. I've switched sides!"

"Want play scrabble?" Ted asked me.

I thought, What the heck! We started playing, but the game got boring really quick.

Ted's only words were 'ooh' and 'grrr'. Needless to say, they weren't in the Scrabble Dictionary.

"You know what, Ted? Let's take a break from Scrabble. How about we play hide and seek?"

"Me hide! Me hide!" He said and ducked under the bed.

I started counting out loud. Meanwhile, I flipped open the Primatech laptop they issued me. I had to unhack it as well so they wouldn't track my activities.

I decided to get caught up on Sylar's Blog. He was still posting on it, despite no longer being my captive. Even with me changing sides, I'm still his enemy. So, if I ever get out of here, maybe his blog can help me find him and kill him.

I was amazed at the post I saw. It was from Hana! Hana was posting on Sylar's blog! The good news is she is now on her way to rescue me. I hope she has a decent plan. Maybe we can get Matt and Ted in on it too. Well, we'd need some fish or something to offer Ted so he stays happy and doesn't blow us up.

"Hehe!" Ted jumped out from under the bed. "Glasses no find Ted! Me under bed! Me hide good!"

"Yes, you hid very well, Ted."

"Again!" he ducked back under the bed.

I hope Hana gets here soon.

Electricity and Omelettes

Here I am, back at Primatech. But this time I don't have health benefits.

I had been curious about what they would do to me. I know from experience that anyone who is even slightly a traitor is immediately executed. But they need me. Why? I don't remember anything. I don't even remember my first name!

Thompson came into my cell. He looked delighted, as usual.

"What are you going to do to me?" I asked.

"It's like my father always said," Thompson began, "You can't make an omelette without busting some head. I always hated when he cooked breakfast."

"Well, I am hungry," I said.

"Tell you what. I'll flip a coin. Heads, we torture you. Tails, we feed you."

"Oh, I hope it's tails."

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a nice, shiny coin. The suspense was killing me. I'd prefer eating to being tortured. My fate lies on the flip.

And there it was. The coin flew up into the air and came back down, landing in front of Thompson on the floor.

"Yay!" I yelled.

"That's heads," Thompson said with a smile.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"How can you tell?"

"Because it has a head of a dragon on it as opposed to a tail."

"Oh, that's a nice observation."

Thompson walked to the doorway of my cell and glanced down the hall. He turned back to me and said, "You're familiar with Raiden, right?"

"Yes." I had a little experience with him. Thompson actually brought him in. Usually he's just a desk guy, but he wanted this assignment for himself. The Haitian and I hung around for support, but they didn't let us in on much. I just knew he had some kind of electricity power.

Then he walked in the room. I braced myself for a karate beating, but rather than strike me down, he spoke.

"Behold, mortal, it is I, the Thunder God Raiden."

"God?"

"Well, evolved human. Technically I'm mortal too, but I'd be tough to kill what with all the electricity I command and all."

"Oh, I see. So are you going to make me breakfast?"

"Silence! I want to know where Claire is."

I didn't speak.

"Tell me now!"

Still, I remained silent.

"Guess we'll have to do this the hard way."

"You'll never find her!" I yelled.

Raiden looked frustrated. His hands started to glow white with power. He Force Lighteninged me.

Luckily, my rims managed to draw the current. They were indestructible.

Raiden relaxed his electric assault and did some karate moves. Then, he let out another strike.

But my glasses still absorbed it all.



Raiden finally grew tired and nearly came close to crying. He walked away. I said in a deep voice, "Bennet Wins!" He turned around and pointed an electrified finger at me.

"You won't always have your glasses," he said. "And when you let your guard down, I'll be there."

He suddenly vanished in an electric whirlwind.

"I guess we'll have to try plan B," Thompson said and closed the door.

I'm hoping plan B is the omelette. But I'm somewhat worried it may not be.

I Hate Paper

Well, they're driving me back to Primatech now. It hasn't been an enjoyable ride.

"Hey, Thompson," I said. "How about stopping for a Happy Meal?"

"I don't think so, Bennet," he replied.

I was bummed out since the beginning of the trip when I was declined a Happy Meal. I didn't know it would get worse. I didn't think it could.

"You ever wonder why scissors beats paper?" Thompson asked. He glared at me in the rear view mirror with his eyes that he uses for glaring at people.

Then, Candace, sitting in the passenger seat spoke up, "Because scissors cut paper. Just like we're going to cut you." She turned around and faced me, tied up in the backseat. Her smile showed me just how pleased she was with the imminent torture.

I spat at her. Hana would have been proud. Well, she would have been proud had my spit possessed any momentum. Instead the spittle dribbled down my chin and landed in my lap. But I think Candace got the point.

She morphified into my mother! Right in front of my eyes. I almost fell for it.

"Mom, it's you! How did you...hey wait a minute!"

"You let me die, son! And then you left me in a ditch!"

"No, Mom, the kitties killed you. But then...hey, stop it! You're not my mom!"

"How can you say that to your own mother?"

"I'm sorry, Mom."

"Just wait until your dad gets home."

"Stop this! I know it's you, Candace."

She then morphified once more. This time into Keira Knightley. My only weakness!



"Hey there," the magnificent Keira said. "Do you know where Claire is?"

"Eh, uh, brr...ka..ki...errr...gaaa....lou...co..." I replied, drooling. Though this time, I was not attempting to spit.

"Aw, it's okay. You can tell me."

"Muh...ooh..."

"Did you like me in Domino?"

"Aa...ga..."

I tried to calm myself down. I looked straight ahead, not focusing on the immense beauty in the seat ahead of me.

"Come on, paper boy. Tell me where she is."

"No! I'll never tell you," I yelled.

"We're here," Thompson said. "No more games. Now we'll find out what gives you focus."

"Huh?" I said.

"Gives you focus...you know, because of your glasses."

"No, I get it. It's just...not that good."

"See what folds your paper?"

"No."

"What adjusts your lens?"

"That's just crazy."

"What makes you tick?"

"That was for Sylar."

"I'll work on it. Don't go anywhere," Thompson said. "I just have to take care of some paper work." He left me in the car with the evil woman.

Looking out the window at Primatech Paper Company I could only think about how much I hate paper.

Thank the Maker

Well, I'm still alive! Thank God. I must have a guardian angel watching over me. After all that has happened it's a miracle to still be alive.

Of course, I don't really remember what all happened. But apparently it was crazy dangerous! I lost Claire, but it seems that was my plan. And I was shot! Maybe that was my plan too. Normally I don't like being shot, so there had to have been a good reason.

But now how do I find Claire? First thing's first. How do I escape?

Well, some people think I'm stupid for not realizing it, and they're underestimating me. I know Primatech's plan, giving me my Blackberry so I can lead them to Claire. I used the same thing on Sylar.

People forget how 1337 I am. I unhacked my Blackberry and redirected the tracker. Now, they'll see the activity of Mohinder's Blackberry instead. All those big words should confuse them.

And now I'm free to find Claire and plan my escape. My only hope is Hana. Sooner or later she'll find my blog and come to my aid. And after she's done, maybe we can rescue Sandra and what's his name too.

Oh, and Mr. Muggles! We can only hope they haven't found him. If they were to discover the experiments I've been doing, the powers I've given Mr. Muggles, why there would be no stopping them. I can't let them get their nasty hands on that kind of technology.

I just got a text message!

"They are going down!! I'm on my way!!!!"

It was clearly Hana. She will be here soon. And I'll be saved. Thank the maker!

Help, Hana, Help, Help~!!

They gave me my Blackberry back. I have no idea why they're being this nice. Finally, I can start blogging once again! My nerd powers were weakening being trapped in my bathroom with only the technology of a blowdryer to bewilder my imagination.

But now I'm back. Ready to take on the cyber world. But before I can blog, I have to send for help.

HELP HELP HELP!!!

HANA GITELMAN DO YOU COPY????

Send me a message please! I'm ready to switch sides. Let's take Primatech Paper down!

HANA~~!

Hana Gitelman, are you there??

Wireless? Spoon Fed? Chocolate Wonder? Spinster Alley? Frolicking Ninja?

Help!

Gah! I give up.

In Order....NOT! HAHAHA!

Ha! Tricked you with the title, didn't I? Oh, that was good! Not as good as killing loved ones in front of you, but still good. Anywho, I see that Bennet has been posting on Burnt Toast Diner. Perhaps I'll check it out later. I've never tortured waffles before. I could probably morph into a waitress and throw coffee in people's faces! That would be way fun, and totally make it worth the drive to Midland. I'll have to ask around about Claire too. Maybe someone there knows something.

-Candace

Continually Out of Order

So, what if we, like, killed Mr. Bennet? That would be cool, huh? I wish I could break those glasses of his and then stab him in the eyes with sporks, you know, like I do with squirrels. Blind squirrels are fun. And even more fun to make!

But I guess we can't kill him. Yet. Hehehe. Hopefully Thompson will let me torture him. In the meantime I may morph into Sandra and go give Lyle a strip-tease. That should traumatize him for life. Maybe he'd spork out his own eyes.

Anyway, I just wanted to say hi. Hi!

-Candace

Still Out of Order

Hey, it's me. Mr. Bennet! Yes, for reals! So, where's Claire? Does anyone know?

-Mr. Bennet (Not Candace)

Out of Order

Mr. Bennet is currently Out of Order
-Thompson

Poodles, Jews and Wicker Baskets

My curiosity has led me to a very troubling conclusion. I've recently decided not to blindly follow the Company's wishes. However, I won't quit because, well, quite frankly, they pay me extremely well. I make more money than you, I bet. And really, I don't have to do anything. Why, I spend most my time either shooting at freaks or blogging. Two things I'd gladly do for free in my spare time.

While unblindly not following their orders, I stumbled, or snuck, into Thompson's office. I had to find out what was going on with all the poodles, and the new girl. I knew they were connected. I could feel it in my gut. And I was right!

I searched all around Thompson's office, but didn't find anything. Well, I did find a picture of his uncle:



Let's just say Thompson's the product of nepotism.

Then, I found it! A secret door, or hatch rather, was underneath the desk. I worked for what seemed like hours but was only eighteen and a half minutes to get it open. I was excited. There would definitely be a computer down there and I'd get to enter in The Numbers to keep the world from 'sploding. But I was mildly disappointed.

There was no computer. There were only wicker baskets. There were more wicker baskets than there are alcoholics in a Baptist congregation. And the smell, my God the smell. It seemed this room had not been entered in some time. It smelled like a Catholic Church. No, not the smell of pedophilia, but that smell that comes from centuries of never changing anything.

I pulled down a wicker basket and inside was a poodle! I screamed, though manly. Then, realized the poodle was lifeless. Yet it looked so real. I lifted the pseudo-dog up out of his basket and examined him.

"Stupid dog," I said and tossed the thing behind me.

Suddenly the wicker baskets started to move. They were all shaking so much that a few fell off the stacks and their poodles fell out. But these poodles were alive!

I turned to run, and when I did I saw him. The poodle I had thrown was standing there, staring at me with red glowing eyes. "Bark. Woof! Woof!" It said.

"What the Hades does that mean?" I asked.

"It means I'm going to kill you," he said.

"But I'm just a paper salesman," I replied to the counterfeit canine.

"Sorry, sir, I did not realize you were with the Company. What are your orders?"

"Um, sit?" It sat. "Stay!" It stayed. I ran up the ladder and shut the hidden door.

Primatech Poodles! Of course. I should have known. Thompson is creating an army of them.

I heard some noises, so I left quickly back to my office. The new girl was definitely aware of the poodle party under Thompson's desk. She must be in on his poodle plans.

We would be working together soon, in the next few hours. Thinking like a true Godfather I decided this would be my opportunity to find out more. I would have to stay alert to pick up on everything they're not telling me. Her power will soon be revealed. She won't be able to keep that a secret from me. Perhaps with that knowledge, and the knowledge of the pretend poodle plot, I could save the world. Then, I could be a Hero.

Wait, you're wondering "What do Jews have to do with it?" Well, I don't know...yet.

Talk with God

I'm starting to become paranoid. Thompson may be suspicious of me. And I think I may start working with either Matt or that new chick. If I work with Matt, hopefully I can control him. I'd be afraid Thompson may want him to spy on me.

And the new girl, Candice. I still don't know what her power is. She's no doubt a Primatech loyal. If I'm working with her, she'd definitely be spying on me.

I'm also afraid to go home, not that I have a home to go back to, but my family is probably suspicious of me too. I've lied to them for years, how can they not be?

So, I turned to the only person still on my side. That metaphorical God-concept in the sky. Andy Griffith.

"What do I do?"

"You work for a paper company," God replied.

"I know that. I mean, what should I do? About my problems and all."

"Well, that's a more difficult question to answer," Andy pointed over at Ted, unconscious on his little table. "What happened to the dead guy that was there?"

"He wasn't dead. Well, the guy under the sheet was, but that was Hank. The prisoner escaped."

"Gosh darn!"

"It's okay. We'll soon get him back. But I'm sure he's out there killing more people. You realize it's your fault right?"

"My fault? I left my deputy in charge. Blame him."

"What kind of God leaves his deputy in charge?"

"Hey! I'll have you know that delegation is the new big thing in management."

I started to lose my faith. I loved the show, but this conversation was going nowhere. I needed answers. I thought back to the last time I had spoken to God, before the Sylar incident. It was ages ago. I was a much younger man, but still as handsome. I cued the flashback.


1992 or something...

"God," I said, "Am I making the right choice? Working for these people?"

"Oh, hey there. I didn't see you come in. God's out. But what can I do you for?"

"I took on this job recently. I was comfortable with morally gray, but now I'm not so sure. Is morally gray good?"

"Gray is a great color. It's also a good last name. Not as good as Fife, but still a good one."

"So you're saying I should stick with the Company?"

"Sure, why not? They pay you, right? Well, that's really all you can ask for in this day and age. Keep your nose down and your whiskers groomed, that's what my father used to say. And it's gotten me where I am today. God's deputy, that is."

"I suppose I could be okay with blind loyalty."

"Yeah, never look back. You're doing what's best."

"Sometimes I just start to doubt it. Especially when I see the experiments we do. Like that one there."

"Oh, my!"



Maybe Deputy God Fife was wrong. I shouldn't blindly follow orders. It's time I start making up for it. I need to do good and right. Even if it means doing immoral things from time to time. I used to think people were fragile, like tea cups. But who the Hades drinks tea? We aren't British, we're American. And I'm going to right the wrongs of the world whether anyone else accepts it or not!

Snooping Disappointment

Still no word on the new chick. As soon as Thompson leaves, I plan to do some snooping.

I've always been a good snoop. You have to when you're a parent. Especially with boys.

Sandra and I always feared Lyle would one day start doing drugs, listening to rap music, or even worse, downloading pornography. So, we had to keep a close eye on him.

Perhaps my expert snooping ability came from my expert hiding ability. The best kid at Hide and Seek (Me!) always knew where to find others because he'd know where the best places to hide were.

And when it came to computers, I was well aware of all the tricks.

Sure, a quick scan of "My Documents" is fine. But rarely would someone be stupid enough to hide incriminating evidence there. You can always find what you're looking for buried under the most ambiguously named folders. C:/Windows/System/GEOStarter/ Something like that.

Being a self-proclaimed h4x0r, I know there's no such thing as "GEOStarter" and immediately knew that Lyle must have created it to hide his paraphenalia.

But what I found in there was worse than rap music, worse than drugs and even worse than pornography. I found:



It as a sad day. The day I learned my son was a flautist.

Mysteries and Poodles

I've been down at Primatech Paper Company a lot lately. It's not because I enjoy working, though I do, but it's because my house was nuked.

So, I haven't had anywhere else to go really. I guess Thompson is taking care of my house problem. I hope.

I was in our animal research area. I was hoping to get some of the data on monkeys to use with Ted's genome, as we haven't had much luck using human chromosomes. But when I opened the door, oodles o' poodles spilled out into the hallway.

"Rufus!" I yelled.

The overweight idiot came running up with his flashlight in hand. He pointed it at the poodle pile and switched it on and off rapidly.

"Rufus!"

"Oh, sorry sir. I thought I grabbed my gun."

"I don't need you to shoot 'em," I said. "I want you to clean up the mess."

"Right away, sir!"

I decided the monkey genes would have to wait. Ted would have to wait. There was a curiosity within me that I needed to tend to.

The hot chick.

She was studying Parkman last time I saw her. I had the eerie feelings he was one of them. But what could her power be?

I checked her file. Candice Wilmer.

The file seemed to be missing most information. It contained a page of biographical information, a portrait photo, an essay she wrote in 3rd grade entitled "Why Boys Are Mean" and a signed Ani DiFranco concert ticket stub.

What could her power be? None of this helps! Then I found this picture:



It seems she has the power to bathe with clothes on!

There's something about this girl. Something they're not telling me. I'm sure she'll reveal her power soon. But there's a greater secret and I won't rest until it's uncovered!

Perhaps she has something to do with the oodles o' poodles. While it isn't uncommon for large quantities of animals to fill a room in Primatech's research department, it is odd that there would be a poodle overflow. Thompson loves animal research. I think the cruelty appeals to him. But poodles, everyone knows, is his weakness.

He had a poodle named Rosebud as a kid, but it was viciously killed by a bully at school who went around killing the pets of his enemies. Perhaps that is what made Thompson such a stone-cold killer. The event robbed him of his childhood. He was forced into a world of an insatiable desire for power.

As I write, it seems more and more that the hot chick and Rosebud are connected. And perhaps the plethora of poodles is the first clue to the mystery.

Radioactive Interrogation

"We're going to see what gives you your spark, Theodore," I said to the bewildered caveman. He was still highly unaware of what was going on, but recognized me. There was no doubt anger in his heart.

"Me want food!" he hollered.

"This food?" I asked, holding a delicately prepared turkey on a silver platter and a Diet Pepsi.

Ted flung his arms up in the air like a radical wheat monkey and ran at me. His prehistoric face slammed into the Primatech Anti-Power Plexiglass^TM and he fell backwards.

Ha! He was stupefied. The hairy human rose to his feet, looked at the appetizing poultry and darted again straight into the window.

Ted gave out an angry howl and jumped back to his feet and charged the window. Again he was knocked back.

Another smack.

And another.

He charged at it yet again, but stopped short. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the transparent barrier. Then continued his charge, which resulted with him lying on the floor dazed.

"Relax, Theodore," I said. "You can have this if you answer my questions. Are you going to cooperate?"

"Ted co...co...oper...eat! Ted eat!" and he ran into the plexiglass.

"You're going to tell me everything, Theodore."

"Me not Theodore! Me Ted!"

"Theodore."

"Ted!"

"Theodore."

"Ted!"

"Ted."

"Theodore!"

"Alright," I said, "You win, Mr. Sprague. Now tell me, why do go nuclear?"

"Me not know. You make Ted cause fire! Ted like fire but fire kill Mrs. Ted. Me no like that! Makes me angry!"

"I see. And who was your first victim?"

"Me no have victims. Me have prey, cook food animals with good fire. Makes tummy happy!"

"Go on."

"Tummy not happy when me little. Mommy no cook with good fire. Mommy use electric box. Metal in box make boom, kill Mommy. Daddy try cook. Daddy no know how. Ted go hungry!"

"Did you enjoy your childhood?"

"Childhood bad! Ted hairy boy. Kids laugh at Ted. Ted cry!! Ted beat kids with club!"

"You felt angry."

"Me was angry! Kids mean. Hurt Ted!"

"It's okay, Theodore. You can tell me all about it."

"Me no want talk past any more! Me want talk now. Now Ted have good fire. Make bad people go boom!"

"And what's your goal now that you have been going nuclear?"

"Me want torch bad people! Make pay! They no treat Ted good. Doctor no help Mrs. Ted! You no help me! Mrs. Ted dead cause you and doctor and Wal-Mart greeter! Me want explode them all!"

"You realize, of course, that I can't allow that to happen."

"You no can stop the boom! The boom big! Me will make good fire on you!"

"Not if my friend takes a look under your hood."

"You look under loincloth?"

"No, that's not what I meant."

I had definitely made progress with Ted. Soon we'll know everything we need to and then, well, we'll have to snuff him.