Friday, May 30, 2008

Magic Eye from a Yellow Henchman

Storyline continued from Henchman's Tag...

So, while I was out and about bagging and tagging and other such things, I ran into a yellow henchman. It seems henchman are everywhere these days. They're all envious of me, middle management. It's the far-reaching dream of a henchman to one day ascend the career ladder and be put in charge of his own team of mindless henchman.

"Isn't that right, Haitian?"


"Hey, what's this?" I asked and picked up an odd little sphere dropped by the fleeing Henchman.

"He seemed to have dropped his marble," The Haitian replied.

I handed the marble to The Haitian while I observed my surroundings. The Henchman was long out of sight; there would be no returning the dropped object.

Then, I began to notice the impoverished state of this particular part of town. Shacks were everywhere, with the exception of one grand skyscraper in the middle. Before I could begin to ponder the strange contrast, I heard the thunderous sound of a an approaching mob.

"Get him!" someone yelled. "He's got all the loot!"

I drew my gun, ready to defend myself and, if I had to, The Haitian as well. But the mob circumvented us. They continued down the path after the strange yellow henchman.

"Looting? Wide income disparity? Angry mobs? Are we in Brazil again?" I asked The Haitian. I could have sworn our mission had us placed somewhere in Tennessee.

"I do not believe so," he replied. Handing back the marble.

He was right. We weren't in Brazil. There were way too many fat people in that slow-moving mob. We were still in America.

After a successful bagging and tagging of our target, I returned home, I placed the marble in my desk drawer, and there I forgot about it for months....

* * *

"Um, Dad?" a girlish voice called from the living room. "There's a floating eyeball talking to me!"

I ran in quickly, expecting Henry Gail, a former target of mine who had the power of having really big eyes (at least we think it was a power, maybe it was just genetics. But hey, that's why we capture 'em, right? To find out these things?)

But it was no Henry Gail.

"Shoot it, Dad!" a lanky boy screamed at me.

"Who are you?"

The eye began to speak.

"Not you," I said, "this little punk kid in my house. You can't just come in here bringing your big ol' eyeballs, probably getting cytoplasm-like goo all over my furniture."

"Dad, it's me, Lyle!" he replied.

"Oh, yeah, got a haircut, right?"


"Um, yeah, I don't have time for this dysfunctional family stuff," the eye spoke. "I'm a very busy eye."

"Well, what is it you want?" I asked the optical organ.

"I am a genie. You can have two wishes. Make 'em quick, though. You've had me in that drawer since Christmas. I'd like to get out of this place, maybe meet a nice girl eye or something."

"Wow, I get two wishes!" Lyle cried out.

"You mean you get to watch me make two wishes," I corrected him with a pat on the head. "Let's see. First....I want a raise at The Company."

"How much of a raise?" the eye asked to clarify.

"Um...ten percent?"


"Woo hoo!"

"Wish for a Cadillac, Dad! I'm so tired of Nissans," the kid pouted.

"Don't distract me, Kyle. I'm thinking." I wrinkled my brow hard as I considered my final wish. "I've got it! I wish for an action figure to be made after me. How cool is that, right?"

"Done!" the eye replied. "Now, can you pass me on to someone else please?"

I put the eye back in my desk drawer and went to my local toy store. "Check it out! It's me!"

The eye genie is still in my desk drawer waiting for Mr. Muggles, Lyle, or Claire to find it....

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Mr. Bennet: Pepped and Ready

You know what they say, the third time's a charm. I didn't win the first two Last Gladiator Standing competitions, but they were rigged, I tell you. I only lost the first one because I wasn't invited to compete. Then, I lost the second because Dark Jedi Kriss knew she couldn't win against me in the final two. But this time, I'm going to win.

How do I know? Simple, I'm now a staple of blog reality shows, and we in the paper business know the importance of staples. I recently won Sylar's Bachelor, and with it, I ate George Clooney's brain and now have the power of super stardom. It'll be just like Rob & Amber going on to the Amazing Race after kicking tropical butt on Survivor.

"What do you mean they lost the Amazing Race?" I threw a stapler at my publicist.

"Ow, I just mean that they came in second," he replied. The stapler that had struck him suddenly grew insect-like legs and scurried away.

"So are you saying fame doesn't win you reality shows?"

"Only American Idol, the rest require talent and skill." Then, my publicist was no longer my publicist. I mean, he was, but it was like he was my mom as well.


"Oh, shut it, Noah. Get that loofa and have at my back," my publicist/mom shouted.

"We don't have time for your hygiene, besides you're still dead, remember? Ask Jesus to wash your back."

"You mean Buddha?"

Then, John Lennon walked up to me, placed a hand on my shoulder and said, "Mr. Bennet, you can't win this one with fame alone. You have to be the ball."

"But I'm famous, George Clooney famous!" I protested.

"So was he once," Lennon said before flying away on a yellow submarine.

This definitely threw a wrench into my plans.

"Mr. Bennet," I heard a voice calling out. "Mr. Bennet?"

I opened my eyes to find myself lying on the ground with an incredible pain in my head. "What happened?" I asked.

Find out what happened!