Babysitting for Mama Petrelli

Well, it seems we finally found out the true origin of Gabriel Gray. Someone that vile and disgusting could only have been the test tube love child of Angela Petrelli and a crazy snow globe collector. How exactly Mrs. Gray and Mrs. Petrelli created him, I really don't care to know. I'm sure it was despicable.

Regardless, Mrs. Petrelli now has a third son, as if the two others weren't enough trouble. We all remember what happened when I tried to bag and tag her eldest.

"Those stupid-looking pajama bottoms make your butt look big."

And Peter has always been nothing but trouble: whining about how we shouldn't kill ants because they too have souls, crying over spilled milk, complaining about being bitten by ants, whimpering over ants having drank all the spilled milk. His cry-baby tantrums are incessant.

But I have to say, the newest addition to the Petrelli Brats is by far the worst. I can put up with the cross-dressing. I can put up with the murdering. I can even put up with the Aqua music he plays constantly. But I can't overlook what he did to my Claire Bear!

That's why I was really upset that Angela tasked me with keeping an eye on her little baby.

"Oh, Bennet, he's just misguided," she insisted. "He never had the chance to suck at my teat of motherly love."


Holding back vomit, I said, "I'll catch these villains, but you have to never say anything like that again."

Continued at Burnt Toast Diner....