Shooting Little Girls

When I signed up as a paper salesman, I expected to have to shoot innocent children from time to time. But after quiting, or being forced to resign I guess, I never expected I'd have to do it!

But I was wrong. The tracking system the evil-doers were using turned out to be an actual person. That much I was aware of before hand. But I didn't know it'd be a tiny version of an adult, otherwise known as a kid.

I had no choice. Mohinder done knocked out my dyslexic friend. He pulled a gun on me. Good thing I'm a quick thinker! I pulled the gun on the child, knowing Mohinder would have to give in. I suspect with the few minutes he has known her, he's grown a great attachment with the girl, and probably ties in with the memory of his deadish sister.

"Drop your gun, or I blow her brains out!" I yelled.

"That notion is quite preposterous! I don't feel wholly assured that the lowering of my weapon would protect the female child from your senseless brutality, most obviously brought on by your uneducated and unsophisticated Texas lifestyle requiring you to tote guns and allow testosterone to oversee your actions."

"Don't try me, Mohinder! Thompson never told you about your father, did he?"

"He informed me that it was indeed Sylar who murdered him."

"No. I am your father."

"Why that is quite improbable and unlikely, dare I say, impossible!"

"It was worth a shot. Speaking of shots..."

"Oh, that was an absolutely horrid segue!"

Hmmm....this is quite the predicament I'm in now. I can only hope for some external miracle, perhaps someone will arrive to disrupt our little showdown. Or maybe Matt will regain consciousness. And maybe Mohinder knocked the dyslexia out of him! Okay, perhaps that's too much of a miracle to hope for. I'll just have to wait and see what happens.

Oh, Mama

I miss my mom. It hasn't been long since I discovered she was murdered by her cats.

She was always such a good mother. A first class mother. A mother that would always say how handsome I was, no matter how fat I got. A mother who wanted me to be more than just a paper salesman.

She was my inspiration. She wanted me to become a lawyer, she'd nag me about it constantly. And because of that nagging, I left home to become a paper salesman. That'll show her, I thought.

But then she wanted me to have kids! She demanded grandchildren, even though she knew she'd never see them because I wouldn't let senile people near 'em. But I couldn't impregnate my woman! Perhaps it was the pressure she put on me. Do I blame her? Mostly. But in the end, it all worked out fine. So, I'm sure her nagging served some purpose.

And now she's gone. Taken from me all too soon! If it wasn't for her smothering, I would have never rebelled against my parents and left to be on my own. It was her annoying habits that drove me to become an adult.

"Gah, Dad!" Claire screamed, "Stop talking about grandma; Peter's exploding!"

"Oh, sorry sweetie."

Mission 3 Accomplished

It's me again. Just checking in to give you an update on Last Gladiator Standing 2. It's going well. I'm having a lot of fun, and beatin' the pants off the competition. But that was expected.

I just finished the third challenge. Check it out here.

Seeking Employment

Before I continue about my trip to New York with Sprague and Parkman, I thought I'd write a post on Burnt Toast Diner. Check it out!

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The Bar Fight

Our first stop was in a little Texas town called Sanger.

The three of us needed to steal a new vehicle. "There's a bar over there," I said. "We should find a car there to take. Why don't you guys find one while I get a drink?"

"Do you think they have donuts?" Parkman asked.

"Maybe. But I doubt it."

"Well, I'm going in too."

"Sprague, get us a good car," I hollered at the somewhat retarded caveman.

"Me want food!" he hollered back. "Me go too! Ted hunt big mammoth and make good fire on it!"

"I don't think they have mammoths, Ted. But come on in, we need some food for the road anyway."

The bar was what one would expect of a small Texas town. There were a few locals sipping whiskey at a wooden table. A couple guys talking at the bar. I got the feeling there were surely no donuts here. In fact, we'd be lucky if they had anything more than whiskey.

"What'll it be?" the bartender asked. Everyone eyed me down. I got nervous. I could feel their eyes judging me; thinking I don't belong here. It was like being in the school gym showers all over again.

It seems our costumes weren't enough. We couldn't pass as true cowfolk. And they could tell.

One man walked up to me and said, "Ye ain't from around here, are ye?"

Ted got angry. "Me from here!" he yelled.

"You ought control your boy there," another said to me. "Lest I have to break those pretty glasses of yours."

I looked over at Parkman, if a fight breaks out, the two of us have guns and can make a real mess of things. I just needed him in my head to plan it all out.

"Parkman?" I didn't see him.

"What did you call me?" one of the cowypeople said.

I ignored him. Where the heck is Parkman?

"Over here!"

I turned and saw Parkman standing behind the bar, serving drinks. What are you doing?

He just smiled at me. Then, as I turned around, I saw an angry cowpoke about to lay a punch on Ted.

"No!" I screamed, but someone pushed me down.

Two men attacked Ted. He left his club out in the car, so he had to resort to his power. I got up and dusted myself off.

Then, Ted's hands started glowing. He shot an explosion at one of the men and sent him flying out the window. Everyone stopped their cheering and hollering and stared at Ted. Then, the other guy lunged at him. I could see Ted ready to go nuclear. He was thinking it in that little mind of his.

"He's thinking about going nuclear!" Matt said.

I jumped in the middle of the two just in time. I grabbed Ted by the neck and held him down onto the bar, and pushed the cowguy away.

"We don't want any trouble here." I said. Ted began cooling down. "We'll be on our way now."

Luckily for you, someone snapped a picture:

Claire!

I finally found her! Sprague, Parkman and I arrived in New York at some plaza or something and she was there with Peter.

I think Peter's about to explode. "Peter's going to explode!" Claire said.

"That's great hun. Wait until you hear what I've been through! Lots of things happen on a trip across the country."

"We don't have time, Dad! We have to help Peter."

"Listen young lady, you may be a fugitive, but you're still my daughter and you're going to listen to my tales. We can worry about Peter later."

Ted said, "Me want hear story!"

Peter started glowing a lot.

"So," I began, "Parkman here was the navigator, and before we knew it, we wound up in Hobbs, New Mexico. New Mexico, Claire! Ha! You'd think something like that would only happen in a wacky comedy movie, but it's true. Poor Parkman....we gave him a hard time about it."

"It's not my fault," Parkman said, "I have dyslexia!"

"Haha, dyslexia, good one!" Ted said. He started jumping up and down hollering, "Dyslexia, dyslexia! Me got dyslexia...look! Me go wrong way." He ran into a pole and we all had a good laugh at Parkman's expense.

"Now can we save Peter?" Claire asked.

"Wait, there's more!" I said. I proceeded to tell her about our travels, but then I got a great idea. "Wait!" I said and pulled out my laptop. "I'm going to write about the trip in my blog too."

Oh, Claire was so anxious to hear about my journey. She couldn't wait. I guess that's why she kept telling me to hurry and get on with it. But like any good story, timing is key. You can't rush 'em, you have to build the right about of suspense.

Nervous

Are you as nervous as I am? Probably not. No, it's not because Other Me is off to New York. New York is a nice place, I've been there several times. There's no danger there.

I'm worried about being voted off of Last Gladiator Standing 2!

I'm also worried about weight gain. The challenges have been mostly physical, so I'm getting my exercise, but the food here is amazing! I don't know what it is exactly, some kind of alien grub, I suppose. But I can't stop eating it! It's way better than Sandra's cooking, which isn't saying much.

I'm thinking I should bring my son, what's his name, up here. He's such a scrawny little dude. It's shameful as a father for me to have a kid that puny. But this food should put some meat on his bones. It'd be good for him, and good for his ego. When you're buff, or even just fat, you feel capable of taking on the world. No matter what it throws at you, barring of course mental anguish from being obese, you can make it through.

Of course, fat people are also dangerous. If one ever manages to get up to top speed, nothing can stop 'em. That's why I don't encourage having Svetlana participate in these challenges. It's an accident just waiting to happen! I already was almost killed by her large bosom. It's not as fun as it sounds.