Bringing sexy back… again

“What’s a Lizard doing at Burnt Toast Diner,” you ask? Well the sign on the front door says “no dogs” so I am technically permitted in this human eatery. You can read my personal blog for the full history.

It’s feels great to be in the loop again. Maybe I can finish the list before Mo-idiot does. That man violated Father’s computer with dirty adult sites. If he put half as much concentration into finishing the algorithm he’d be done by now. Honestly, he’s just not approaching it the right way. I’m still waiting for my Sylar to buy a home computer and to stay there long enough for me to use it.

There are certain benefits to being a lizard. No one ever suspects the lizard. Just the other day I accidentally broke Mo-idiot’s IV valve when Sylar and I visited. He didn’t even notice. I can see why Father didn’t spend much time with him. He spent too much time in front of the mirror picking out what color co-ordination to wear, which by the way ended disastrously, and got sloppy with his work.

Anyway, I crawled out of Sylar’s jacket pocket and took a seat on the table. So what’s so good about this Burnt Toast Diner? I sure wouldn’t want any of their overcooked and carcinogen stuffed bread. There were two menus on the table, some condiments and a napkin dispenser I was more interested in the former. Now food was next to the sciences on the top of my List HAHAHA. Excuse me. So as Sylar skimmed the menu muttering something about brains (or the lack of), I looked carefully through my own menu. We did not have the time to decide on our orders when a perky, fidgety, young female came bouncing up to us. She reminded me of this little annoying dog which we saw earlier on our way here. I wondered how much espressos she had that day. Probably more than I could count with all my claws. I decided to get the usual and raised my head to speak,

“Hello, waitress? May I have an order of crickets with a side salad?” The cream puff ignored me.

Insulted, I added a little louder, “What?! You don’t serve crickets?! What kind of a place is this?” She blinked stupidly.

So I didn’t get my crickets or even my salad, but I did give Sylar my permission to off the little tart and eat her brain (if she even had one). I’d have to agree with what I overheard a woman here stated earlier, the service was terrible. I thought Sylar must’ve agreed as he sipped his tea with a frown.

When the teacup was empty I looked at Sylar expectantly. He dropped me into his pocket and began walking towards the exit. Perhaps he had forgotten our earlier plan to murder the insolent girl.

“Hello?
Sylar?!
Start kicking some butt!
Please?
I’ll be good??
I’ll love you forever???
Do something!!!”

The door closed behind us and I left Mr. Sylar a small brown gift in his coat pocket.