Well, I had an UNUSALLY bad day, didn’t I. Woe is me, yet again, and all that comes along with it. One son went positively apesh*t; trying to slice my head open like a cantaloupe. My other son suggests that I go to hell. Rest assured, my dear Nathan, that I’m already there. And my black sheep of the family son is a perfect little angel. See what knowing that you’re an heir to a mass fortune of New York real estate, cash, and assets can do for a bad attitude! Redemption doesn’t happen over night, but greed does. God bless your genticaly inherited, black heart, Gabriel Petrelli!
Though, I have to give opera claps to Nathan where it is due. Tracy, even though she’s a walking result of DNA in a petri dish, is quite lovely, pearls and all. Much better than her dreadful, Paxil swilling sister, Nessica! I have yet to have the pleasure of meeting Barbara. I shudder to think of what kind of a sticky mess she turned out to be. God willing she has a decent therapist.
But the true splendor of it all seems to the imminent return of my dead husband, Arthur, who clearly:
1: is not so dead
2: is very pissed off
3: has managed to turn into a pimp whilst in a coma.
I swear to God I thought there was an actual body in that coffin when we buried him. Who knew such details were overlooked at an overpriced, upper class, funeral home these days? I wish someone would have said something, or I wouldn’t have spent all that money on a proper burial suit. I know better now. When, and if my children ever die, they’re all being buried in clothes from The Gap! Except Gabriel. He’s my new favorite, and will be buried in clothes from Banana Republic! Suck on THAT, Peter!
But, back to Arthur and all of this foolishness and mayhem that is headed my way: like a looming storm of turds to ‘reign’ on my Queen of The Company parade.
In my honest opinion, the thing that turned him into a pimp is the ring. I wish I could find a suitable picture of it for you. It’s quite a GEM! Hah! I love it when I’m ironic. But anywhoooooooo…
Yes indeed, he’s managed to get himself a pimp ring, is “chillin’ all up in the crib in his ‘Big Daddy’ bed,” and has managed to turn Maury Parkman in to his He-Servant. How is this possible? That’s not the man I knew and tolerated….I mean LOVED!
THIS is the man I knew…
How he managed to turn into this…
It defies all logic and reason.
All I know is perhaps I should put gold rims on that car of his that I “stole” after his “death” for when he comes home and attempts to act like nothing happened. At least that’s the ideal. I would prefer not to discuss this whole mess with out my both my shrink and our crazy watch making son present. Gabriel is the best bodyguard a mother could ask for.
Well, alas, I have nothing to do but wait until next week to begin yet another round of matrimonial fun, bickering, emotional blackmail, and other joyous events that really brings a couple together. I’m sure he’ll be happy to explain his penchant for purple faux fur hats to me, and why he used his eldest son as lab rat, threw the middle one away like last weeks moldy take out, and turned the youngest one into a simpering nurse with a latent, power mad, God complex.
Please pray for my wretched soul,
Mrs. A. Petrelli
** Dedicated to “Tracy” on M’spizzle Heroes RP. With out her, I’d still be wiping my Chanel shadowed covered eyes with a silk hankey. Thanks to Rys for the pic. I can only see the future and be crotchety. Other than that, I have no talent.
Don’t tell lies about my Father… He is a wonderful, noble man. Well…that pimp thing may be true…but other than that.
I knew I should have killed him at the Company’s Christmas party in ’97 after he asked my Claire Bear to sit in his lap. Trust me, had I been more than middle management, that would have been the last time he got to play Santa.
I think Tracey would be a good wife for Nathan. You and her both love the pearls. With some training by you, she could be next HBIC.
So I’m like RELATED to Sylar? Sometimes I wish I could kill myself…