PARABOLICAL GRAFFITI

There is something seriously wrong with this city. I've heard of strangers attacking you, but the guy I encountered was ridiculous. He was unnaturally fast and strong.

What kind of Miracle-Grow do these things take?

Hey, I know you do a lot for me and I really appreciate it, but Lois just got here, and she is my cousin, I love her. I've died for her, and I know she is going to do something crazy and Lex is gonna hurt her. Can you just...look out for her or something? I can't lose Lois. I just...can't.

When were you going to tell me that you stuck your mother in the room next to me? Why am I stuck between not-yet-Sylar and the devil woman?

I have it.

Come to the Lux to claim it.

[address]

In places like Los Angeles, Beverly Hills, Hollywood... it's hard to say what people value. Sometimes I wonder if the disappearance of Rodeo Drive would mean more than the disappearance of a cultural landmark like the Hollywood Sign. I wonder if would care more that the Benz dealership had vanished rather than the whole of the Pacific Ocean. Of course there are perfectly simple ways to test these queries, but than I ask myself a question: what could I possibly want with an entire Benz dealership?

So I'm left with these questions each day running through my mind. I could act on them, but there would be little point in wasting energy on an ugly street or a body of water I've already held in my hand.

I don't even like seafood.

Something will come to me eventually, it always does. I need a challenge on a grand scale. Something with an end play so brilliant that when I finally do check and mate I'm awash in the ultimate feeling of success. It will come. Before I'm forced to take the ocean and make a scene.

Oliver? AC? Bart?

This isn't funny.

Well, I didn't know you could make this wrong of a turn in Hogsmeade. Interesting, that, because I've no idea where I am and I think the person behind the counter was right annoyed with me when he had to explain how to use this thing.

He's gone.

I can't...feel him anymore.

I need a favor. Can one of you help? Or at least hear me out?

After approximately two weeks of being here, I’ve finally decided that everybody here is absolutely right in telling me that I won’t be getting out, and that this version of Los Angeles isn’t normal in any sense of the word. I’ve seen vampires. I’ve seen demons. I saw a creature with antlers and a tail. I’ve seen many things that I would have never imagined to exist before rudely being shoved into this place. But the one thing that I’ve heard of being here, but that I haven’t seen, are werewolves.

The people that tell me there are so called werewolves around, are they correct? I’d like to know and would appreciate it if somebody would please give me an answer to the question that is of some importance to me right now.

Before anyone becomes suspicious of my intentions, I will say right out that I mean them no harm. It would be a comfort to know that they exist here, even if they are different.

The name’s Gabriel, by the way.

Would anyone mind taking care of Aaron for a night or the weekend? I'd really appreciate it - more than you can imagine.

And would anyone like to come toy shopping with me for Aaron sometime? I can treat you to Starbucks afterward.

All right, kids, here's the deal. I'm a doctor. I don't know about the rest of you, but that's what I went to school to do for the rest of my hopefully not-extended life until some merciful hand smote me down before I became too old to enjoy the oodles of cash I was promised and yet didn't actually get. Being a bartender is gosh darn swell and all, given the freedom to drink on the job if I really want to, which I usually do, but too much of a good thing makes it not good anymore. In theory.

Given that, yes, my life somehow is part of a TV show, it's been a little hard to prove I can, in fact, be a doctor. So, knowing some of you are actually having the same problem, I suggest we team up to either orchestrate some ethically sketchy credential creation or we branch out to other ideas.

So, who's in? Come on, I know you're all just dying to go back to a life of thankless public service. Fingers are just itching to hack into the next patient for no gosh darn good reason other than you like your shiny scalpel, aren't they? And yes, I am pointing my finger at you, Shuffle-Along.

So I wanna know what the FUCK has Smallville so busy that he can't look after his supposed best friend. How the HELL did he let her marry SATAN? I really wanna fucking know.