These are the challenges of the Drag Queen Sylar

My Fellow Blog Readers: Its day four of my enforced chastity. I’ve suffered from night sweats for the past few nights, but I’m hanging in there. At the moment, I’m sitting at a little cyber café thinking about the latest challenge issued by Sylar. I’ve managed to survive this far, and now I’m off to find Sylar a few friends. Oddly enough, this challenge is not as easy as it sounds. I pulled out my blackberry and scrolled through my contact list. I know there has to be at least two friends on my list who could play nice with Sylar.

As I scrolled through my list and noticed Pete was the only other male on it, I decided to my blackberry wasn’t going to serve me on this occasion. I was about to give up hope and throw my hat in the ring when I saw Donald, an old friend of my father’s, walking past the café. I waved to catch his attention, and then I jumped up and ran outside to meet him. We chatted about my father and he told me he was always impressed with my shark-like instincts. Then he asked the question that always manages to come up these days… “What happened with your campaign and your run for Congress?” In a moment of uncharacteristic honesty, I blurted out that I was on the inside track for the White House but gave it all up to save Pete…and the world too…”

Donald grew silent for a moment, and then he said, “Are you telling me you allowed personal feelings to interfere with a shot at the big seat? —-He paused rather dramatically, I thought, then he yelled out, “You’re fired!” He turned in a huff and stalked away with his two stands of hair flapping in the wind.
Well, I’ll admit to being a little disappointed by these events. My time was running out. I had to find a few friends for my love interest soon, or I would have to suffer a broken heart. I walked across the street and into Central Park. My mind was buzzing with bad ideas; and I wasn’t paying much attention to where I was going, which is why I ran directly into two men who were stepping out of the bushes. I was going so fast the impact with the taller one had my head bouncing off his chest and throwing me backward to the ground. The tall one helped me to my feet, and I apologized to them both for interrupting whatever they had going in the bushes.

The short, stout one said that I wasn’t interrupting anything; they were just lost. He seemed like he was distracted by something, but he pressed on to say, “My friend and I are short on time. I know this is going to sound unbelievable, but we are from the future. My name is Captain Kirk and this is my First Officer Mr. Spock. It’s too complicated to explain the logistics but our ship ….blah, blah, blah…”

I could tell from the way he took a deep breath his explanation was going to be lengthy and my mind wandered back to my own problems. I tried to keep eye contact while pondering my next move when I focused in on Kirk saying, “…so all we need is someone adept at time travel…blah, blah.”

I interrupted him to say, “Look if you will come and meet a close friend and make nice with him so that he likes you. I’ll call another friend, named Hiro, to help you get back home.”

Both men agreed, I gave them Hiro’s cell number, and a half hour later we were sitting across from Sylar chatting like school girls. The more Captain Kirk talked; I realized that he was a real ladies man. I think I really could be friends with this guy. He was working his charm for all it was worth on Sylar. The only time I got jealous was when he commented on how nice Sylar’s legs were looking.

Mr. Spock was also attempting to enlighten Sylar about a few things by explaining that words hold little meaning in the grand scheme of things. The true stories are always revealed in the subtext, and if people find they are uncomfortable with the subtext, well you can always just pretend like nothing happened; and with those pearls of wisdom, the Captain looked at Mr. Spock, Mr. Spock raised an eyebrow, and the two excused themselves.

After they were gone, I turned my attention to Sylar. As usual, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, so I stood up and asked him if he could adjust my clock. I wonder if that was subtle or subtexty. Anyway, what happened next I’m sure you’ll hear about soon enough.