They see me rulin’! They hatin’!

Well, I have to admit, so am I. Yes. It’s my first day as Queen of The Company and I’m a-hatin’!

Is that what you kids are saying these days; “hatin”?

But can you blame me? So many morons, so little time. More so, so little staff. Who do I have to mentally manipulate to get some decent help around here? It’s not like there’s a temp service for people with special abilities. I can barely find someone to fetch me a proper espresso complete with lemon peel, much less hunt down the little hooligans that ran screaming from the Pokey on Level 5 and are now off to run amuck and cause obscene amounts of wild shenanigans.

Good thing my bastard son Gabriel is here to save the day! If anyone can reign in a bunch of murderous lunatics, it would be their King. That homely woman I sent him to live with did a bang up job of scrambling his brain ala the eggs he refuses to eat. Virginia Gray, I slow clap your work. You destroyed his psyche worse than I ever could ever do myself.

In the meantime, Future Peter is officially out of my will. Let’s recap the mayhem this little stinker has caused.
* What a leather clad troublemaker; with his hiding himself into some husky lunatic and then loosing him at gas station. Now I have to put his picture on a milk carton. There’s no Molly Walker for me to use as a prepubescent GPS now.
* Continually dismissing his emotionally distraught niece’s requests for assistance with the many problems with her head.
* Shooting his brother in the chest, failing to kill him, and then attempting it again in a church of all places. (Not that it was such a bad idea, Nathan’s mouth is unusually large, like his head,)
* And in general just being der Schweinehund.

I didn’t raise him right. Perhaps he too, would have been better off being fed a steady diet tuna sandwiches and stale Ruffles from the gourmet, avocado green kitchen of Virginia Gray.

What’s an old woman to do? Firing Elle was therapeutic, but simply not enough to soothe my power mad and eternally crabby soul.

Perhaps I’ll find a nice brunette and offer her up to my new found son as a hors d’oeuvre.

She’s first to be plated complete with garnish…

“Yumm-o” indeed!

My child claims that brains are disgusting. I beg to differ. Clearly he’s never had the sweetbreads at Maxim’s de Paris. Perhaps I’ll take him there next May for Mother’s Day so I can celebrate it properly, unlike this past one. We all know how that turned out, and if not, scroll down. I was robbed! Brats.

Well my Dears, I’m off to raise a little hell of my own. I have so much to do, but nothing to wear except for these Sarah Palin-esque suits. Now that I’m in charge, I’m thinking about installing casual Friday. That way I can wear Gucci loafers to show off my ever prized stolen sock collection.

With the exception of this unfortunate day, I never miss a chance to show off my socks. Love me, love my socks. That is all.

I bid you adieu,
Mrs. Angela Petrelli