I send greetings to those of you at the Burnt Toast Café. Yesterday, it was pouring rain outside, so I decided to drop into your fine establishment. I left Odessa yesterday morning and I had just made it to your diner when my windshield wipers broke. Remembering how great the waffles were at the café, I decided it was a good place to pass my time. As soon as I entered the café, a waitress swooped down on me waiving a piece of paper at me. I thought, “Great…It’s another over-the-hill woman who wants my number. Why do they always come after me?” …Well, I guess I know why. I am breathtakingly good-looking…When I took the paper from her, I realized she didn’t want my number. It was a bill. I raised my eyebrow, leaned my shoulder in toward her, gave her my best four and three quarter tooth smile, and asked her what the problem was. She immediately went into a tirade about how I stiffed her on the bill the last time I was there. She threatened to call the police if I didn’t settle up immediately, so I did…Sigh…The last thing I needed was more bad publicity. I ended up hiding in a corner for most of the evening, waiting for the rain to stop and trying to shake the creepy feeling I got when I broke into the Bennets’ two-story apartment earlier that day. What an ordeal that was…
I had one of my people track down Meredith and get Claire’s last name and address, not that I was feeling guilty or anything. I am far too manly to experience remorse of any kind. I just wanted to take a look at her home life and make sure they weren’t abusing her. Should the truth ever come out, I want to be able to claim I knew she was in a good home…Anyway, my contact advised me there was a recent fire at the Bennet house and the family was, temporarily, in an apartment downtown. I was able to get into the apartment easily. Someone had left a window upstairs open. I didn’t fly up to the window or anything weird like that. The world doesn’t work like that. I am a perfectly normal person who is bound by the laws of gravity…Humph…What was I saying? Oh, that’s right…I snuck in the window upstairs. I could hear voices downstairs, so I figured it would be easy to snoop around for a few minutes and then leave. I began my search in the master bedroom.
I hadn’t even opened my first drawer yet, when I was assaulted by the most deplorable odor. I turned around to see what was causing the smell, and that is when I saw IT…It was the biggest rat that I have ever seen. I’m talking bigger than the rats in a NY City Taco Bell. 
I considered wrestling it into submission, but I didn’t want to make any noise. I settled for flexing my well-defined, pectorals at it, but that didn’t work so well. Realizing there was nothing else I could do, I began to make my retreat. It was then that I noticed it had a collar. I think it is called Mr. Muffins…I couldn’t tell; and I didn’t want to get closer…Humph…A collar…Oh…My…Lord…Do all under-privileged people domesticate their rats? 
I didn’t waste anymore time. I got out of there as fast as I could fly…I mean run…
My skin is still crawling. Now, here I sit, reflecting on my final humiliation and blogging about it. When the rain finally stopped at the diner, I tried to sneak out past the waitress, Fräulein Hitler. I was still disappointed that I didn’t get my waffles. Boy, yesterday really did suck. As I made my way to the door, Fräulein Hitler came out of the kitchen. In order to avoid another conflict, I tried to win her over one last time. I purposely dropped a napkin, and then took my time bending over to pick it up. When I knew she had received the full shot, 
I deliberately tightened my bum checks…Yep that always makes the chicks hot. I could tell it was working. I could her breathing turn heavy. When I raised back up and turned to give her my sexy goodbye smile, I realized, to my horror, that the waitress had walked off and behind me stood an overweight man whose shirt did not quite cover his beer gut…This time I really did run.
Stay the course,
Nathan Petrelli
omg hi flying man! u haf a cool pwr! wanna get 2gether sum time n…talk?
flying man??? Ummm. I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m perfectly normal.
However, I always have time for the ladi…Is that facial hair?
Nevermind. Vote Petrelli.
I noticed it had a collar. I think it is called Mr. Muffins…I couldn’t tell; and I didn’t want to get closer…Humph…A collar…Oh…My…Lord…Do all under-privileged people domesticate their rats?
It’s Mr. Muggles. Learn it, Live it, Love it.
Oh. Excuse me. Mr. Muggles. Are you registered to vote? You know I have always been a big supporter of rodent rights.
THIS LANA MOM! WHY YOU INSULT LEETLE DOG? MALENKII SOBACHKI NO DO ANYTHING TO YOU!
I NO VOTE FOR YOU NOW! YOU VER MEAN PERSON! (BUT I MIGHT VOTE FOR YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE VER HANDSOME CHELOVEK! MAY I TAKE YOU AS SECOND HUSBAND?!)
Me? Did I insult someone? My polls do indicate that I am unintentionally offensive to 14% of the voting public.
Please do not commit to a “no vote” because of this one situation. I’m willing to take the necessary steps to satisfy you and secure your vote.
Welcome, Mr. Petrelli. Sorry about what I said of your pajama bottoms. No hard feelings?
Well Mr. Bennet,
You’re sorry about the pajama bottoms. I’m a big enough man to let that go… Does that mean that you don’t think my butt is big? A person less manly than myself would have hurt feelings after a comment like that. (Sniff, Sniff) Excuse me. I must be coming down with a cold.
I would vote for you if I voted.
THERE YOU ARE! YOU BASTARD!!!
Claude:
I appreciate your support. Are you an American citizen? If so, please go to my site, I have provided a link that will allow you to register to vote. If you are not a citizen, I could always use the help with my campaign. Someone with your abilities could scope out the competition.
Mr. Hawkins:
I believe I have heard from you before. Did you visit my website recently? I think “bastard” might be a little harsh. Don’t you? I mean it really isn’t my fault that your wife has fantasies about me. Nor is it her fault. I am incredibly good-looking. Many women love me. Don’t take it so hard.
Beware, Mr. Petrelli, beware. The Special Task Force Union is on their way to your very door right at this moment! It won’t be long before your campaign will be forced to succumb to our Doleful Eyes of Doooooooom!
If I had an opposable thumb, I probably wouldn’t vote for you anyway. Party lines and all. I must be loyal to the Party!
— Comrade Trotsky —