After all the emailing, blogging, and searching, I finally met Claude. It was an interesting meeting to be sure. I had just come down from the roof, where I’d been tending Claude’s pigeons, to get something out of the flat I’d been renting, when I saw him standing in the hall.
Tarot?
Claude?
Claude nodded. He looked a bit under the weather so I told him to come on in to my flat.
Thanks. I suppose you’re willing to look after me as well as Poodle?
Peter doesn’t need my help. His brother, Nathan indicated as much. Just the same, I’d rather hang with you.
Really?
Yes, really.
OK, nurse, know any decent hangover cures?
I can handle that.
I’m sure you can, at that.
Of course, after all he’d been through, Claude needed some rest. Fortunately, I have plenty of space. So one mystery is solved, now we just need to find a way to keep Peter (or anyone else) from exploding.
Save the hospice nurse, save the world.
No, it’s not “save the hospice nurse, save the world.”
It’s “save the Twinkies, save the world.” Here’s my reasoning.
When Peter goes nuclear, the only two things that will survive are Twinkies and Sylar’s cockroach friend. Since I don’t feel like going all Fear Factor and eating cockroaches, I will eat Twinkies to gain my powers of Nuclear Invulnerability.
SAVE THE TWINKIES, SAVE THE WORLD! We could all be like lolz sleep0ver sylarz!1 but instead of eating brains to gain powers, we’d just have to consume massive quantities of white frosting-filled goodness.
~ Lana
I was wondering about Claude. I was hoping we would see him again before NY exploded.
Watch out for Mutant Cheerios!