I just can’t manage to keep the men in my family alive. As much as I try, inevitably all of them are in for a dirt nap. It’s only a matter of time before the same fate and Peter will cross paths. Though, knowing him, I’m sure he’ll have something noble to say before his passing. Ever so trite, yet ever so endearing at the same time. I had hoped that Elle Bishop’s hair cut would have shaved the emo out of him, but alas. I’m sure I’ll be in for an earful of emo speeches now that Nathan is worm food.
All of that trouble to keep him alive and for what? For that salty, hag of a Ginger to do my dirty work for me. Admittedly, I am impressed by her prowess to get the job done. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was my eldest son that she picked off ala Cosa Nostra, I’d raise my Chardonnay glass to her.
Perhaps after I get done slapping her into next week, we can let bygones be bygones and exchange murderous tips whilst we bond over mani-pedi’s and salt scrubs. I mean, what’s done is done.
With that said, I’d like to take a moment to bid adieu to Nathan; my eldest son, the bane of my existence, that giant pain in my ass, the glorified sperm donor who was technically more trouble than he was worth. May you rest in peace in a place where virgins run free and do gooders cross the line between doing good and being Noah Bennet. All that Bible thumping you did in 2008 has paid off now. May the God you worshiped have mercy on your zombie like soul.
May he have mercy on mine as well. I’m sure it won’t be long until we’re reunited in the afterlife. Actually, I think I’ll be going downwards. Satan actually called my house, and informed me that I had a job and a full service suite waiting for me for when I arrived. In forefront thinking, that’s probably a better deal than what I have going on here now. I’m sure the rest of the 12 will be waiting for me, helixes intact, kicking ass and taking names.
You all still have time to bet on me in a death pool. Granted, I’m now the equivalent to Smarty Jones, and the purse may not be high. But I thank you for your support. It’s nice to know that someone cares.
Godspeed,
Dame Angela Petrelli
This new company of yours seems to be doing squat.
Meh. I own it.