So here I am, at a Primatech Christmas party. Wasn’t I imprisoned by them just a month or so ago? Now they invite me to a Christmas party? Hmm, seemed suspicious. Luckily, I could take anyone in this room if they tried to capture me again. But what would the point be? It would be about as worthwhile as a gazelle evading a cheetah. You see, the gazelle is me, Peter. The cheetah, it is death. Even I gracefully evade the cheetah of death with my gazelle-like reflexes, it will still be there to hunt me down and tear off my cute gazelle limbs a few days later. Frolic. Galloping gazelle. Disembowelment. Such is Peter.
So, why am I here, you may ask? Well, to get attention of course. That, and I’m an innocent, naive boy, and don’t believe anyone would ever hurt me. Except girls, they’re evil, especially when they die on me. Selfish vixens. Anyways, the only thing emos like more than crying, is to cry in front of other people to get attention. So that’s what I did. I went, sulked in my corner away from everyone, started quietly sobbing, until I began shouting, “Caitin! Caitlin!” like a rabid wildebeest.
All of a sudden, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was the man I knew as Noah.
“There, there, Peter,” he said. “I’m sorry to hear about Caitlin, but aren’t you forgetting someone?”
“You mean Simone?”
“No, actually, I forgot about her. She sure was useless, wasn’t she?”
“Yeah, but that’s what I loved about her. You talking about Isaac?”
“Didn’t he kill Simone? What do you care about him?”
“Touche. Um…Ted?”
The man in horned rimmed glasses looked at me for a moment, before bursting in laughter. Even I had to laugh a bit at my silly thought. But only a little! Laughter is like the laxative to the constipation of death. It’s only temporary relief.
Suddenly, I realized who Noah was referring to. “Oh…oh God…You speak of Nathan!” I wailed. “Nathan! Nathan!”
He tried to console me. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re the first person to know my first name.”
“That just further pushes me into despair! That means you’ll die too! As everyone close to Peter does! I am the plague-bringer! I am the hand of death! Everything I touch turns to ash! I am the daylight that burns the vampire! Except my light is pitch darkness!
Noah gave up, and left me be. Someone approached me, and I looked. I gasped at who I saw. “You! You’re the guy who was shot in Kirby Plaza! I heard you were dead! Did Claire’s blood save you?! Did it?!”
He glared at me for a moment. “I am not D.L. I am the Haitian. Are you saying that all black people look alike?”
“Does it even matter, D.L.? You’re alive! Alive! What a joyous day.”
“I am the Haitian! D.L. is dead!”
I heard this, and wailed once more. Bob, the evil King Midas, stepped up beside the Haitian. “Nice going, Haitian. Way to put it delicately.”
“In my country, to be tactful is tactless,” D.L./the Haitian said, walking away. Sounded like France was a neat place to live. But I digress.
“Peter,” Bob said, “I have a surprise for you. I made you a gift, something so that you’ll alwayd be able to remember your pet Nathan. Bring it out, Dr. Suresh!”
I looked up, and this is what I saw:
“You bronzed my dead brother?!” I asked in disbelief.
“No,” answered Bob, clapping his hands. “I golded him! And he was alive when I did.”
“What?! Can you undo this?!”
Bob thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Why would I want to turn something BACK from gold?” he asked.
“Claire’s blood!” I shouted. “That’ll save him!” I grabbed a butter knife, raised it over my head, and charged forth towards the object of my incestual lust. No, not gold Nathan! Claire!
But before I could get there, I felt the sudden urge to go back into my corner and cry. So I did. I hugged my gold Nathan and cried. I noticed Santa enter the room, one that seemed grossly overweight.
“Thanks for stopping him, Parkman,” Noah said, shaking hands with the suited tub of lard.
Bob stepped up to me. “Fine, don’t like my present! I guess we’ll take some Claire’s blood, de-gold Nathan, hide him away, and not tell you if he’s dead or alive! I hope you’re happy!”
“But you just told me he was alive!”
“What? Oh, I don’t know. Didn’t you see the news? It only said he was shot, not that he died! But maybe he did! Bullets do kill people, you know.” Bob stormed off, as ambiguous as a hermaphrodite.
Haitian D.L.s. Gold Nathans. Overweight Santas. Such is Peter.
You forgot to takes your meds this morning,didn’t you?
I want a gold Nathan!
Wow, you’re just as morose as me. How marvelous!
All I can say is I’m glad it’s me and not you. The last time I you died I became a temporary alcoholic and I grew a chia pet on my face. I’m pretty sure my beard is living on in a third world country planning an over throw of the government.
Nah, I think I saw Muggles on a date with that beard a few days ago.