Telephone Memory

The phone rang in our hotel room. Since The Haitian was still in the shower, I had to interrupt my Lifetime Original Movie to answer it.

"Hello?" I said.

The cold female voice on the other end replied, "Noah."

"Yes. Who is this?"

"Oh, you can't be serious. You poor, moronic fool."

"Angela?"

"But of course!"

"How'd you find us?"

"Oh, can it Bennet. Let me talk to The."

"The?"

"The Haitian. You two have worked together for so long, yet you still refer to him by his full name? How pedestrian!"

"The is in the shower. I'll tell him you called."

"Oh, Bennet, you certainly are quite the..."

And I hung up the phone. It was exhilarating! Far better than sex with Sandra.

(Note to Sandra: Just kidding. I love sex with you. I just wish you wouldn't insist on including Mr. Muggles.)

Finally, The Haitian came out of the restroom in a towel.

"You had a call," I said annoyed.

He ignored me.

"It was Angela Petrelli."

The Haitian started flexing his pecks, alternating between the left and right. "Watch this," he said.

"Don't change the subject! I won't be distracted by your strong, manly, dark and bouncing man-boobs again. Why did Angela call?"

"Uh..."

* * *

I woke up in my hotel room bed in a puddle of my own drool. My head ached and I felt very groggy.

The Haitian was sitting, fully dressed, at the foot of the bed watching The Fairly Odd Parents on Nickelodeon.

"Haha!" I hollered, "You watch cartoons!"

* * *

"Hey, wake up," The Haitian shook me. My vision took focus slowly. He continued, "We need to get on with our mission."

"What happened to my pants?" I asked.

"What pants?"