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Monica's wiping up the glass as a cop takes down her statement. Nice glossy headshot of the guy - Linus Steels, a local gangbanger, who hits up fast food joints. Hee. What are these guys, extras? Monica doesn't want to be a snitch and identify the burglar, and the cop is disgusted with her lack of heroics, saying he can't help a neighborhood who can't help itself. Guess we know who thinks he's above the people. It honestly looks like a scene out of a low-budget porno, complete with lines like "he shoved his gun in my face."

I'm gonna ask you again, is this yo' baby's daddy?

Later, behind Burger Bonanza, Camille tries to play sympathetic listener to a diffident Monica, asking her what is going on. "I jus' didn't want some crackhead looking for revenge," says Monica. Well, I think it's a crackhead up in that tree! Camille doesn't know how Monica pulled off the pole kick move, because no one in New Orleans is offering stripteasercise classes. Monica says she learned it from TV, and confesses that something is happening to her body - who knew superpowers were another side effect of menstruation? She's certainly got the weepy emotional PMSing part down. Just as I'm confused by the daylight in this scene and what the hell Camille was doing at Burger Bonanza anyway, Monica says that she's been there since the previous night and hasn't slept. Well, you can't learn any cool new tricks if your eyes are closed, girlie.

Back at The House That God Prevented From Washing Away, Monica enters the living room where Nana Storm (that's her name from now on), like all old people, love it when young prodigies play the piano. That, and when their dentures fit just right. In elementary school, I used to play Andrew Lloyd Weber hits, old-timey tunes and some Chopin for the elderly at local nursing homes and hospitals. It got depressing after I realized the turnover rate was so high. They really loved it when I played "Memory" as they ate their pudding cups of red Jell-O.

Hurricane Katrina tried to destroy this trippy purple wallpaper but failed.

Micah is a mini-Mozart with better hair, playing some fast arpeggios on a piano that, despite not being played for years, is still in tune. How do you have money to tune a piano but not get better writing and more sets, Tim Kring? Monica admires her little cousin, and sits down next to him to talk about not having mommies. "Mama always said, 'God doesn't give us what we can't handle.'" What about the forest fires ravaging my state of California? The sky is ORANGE. She starts playing along without realizing, as Micah asks, "You play too?" In a scene straight out of R.L Stine's "Goosebumps" series, Monica's possessed by some crazy Russian pianist's hands and speeds through the end of the piece. As she gazes in horror, she tries to stop it, which is the only explanation for how horribly dissonant it sounds. So bursts of musical genius are also a new side-effect of Aunt Flo. Lucky girl, I just get awful cramps.

They don't make a Midol for this.

Micah confronts Monica about the incident, as she hastily covers a tray full of tomato roses she's carved up. She tries to blame it on a couple of hard years, but he's a smart kid. Micah demonstrates his mechanical/electrical engineering abilities by laying his hand on the TV and turning it on and flipping through channels. He reveals that his parents also had powers, to Monica's amazement. Handing her a copy of 9th Wonders, he explains that she's similar to St. Joan, a cat-like heroine who is a muscle mimic, a literal "copy-cat." If Isaac Mendez is dead, how does 9th Wonders still exist, with such conveniently relevant issues? No matter, they're off to test her powers.

I can has cheezburger, if I use mah powerz.

Strolling along the 'hood, Micah suggests kickflips, slam dunks, and...double dutch. Every time I think they've run out of racial stereotypes, Heroes writers surprise me. Monica opts for the jump rope challenge, claiming she is terrible at it. "You want something, lady?" taunts the double dutch girl. Sassy. Why not splice some footage from "You Got Served" while we're at it. Monica concentrates and her muscle mimic skills allow her to show the neighborhood girls up. She gets really into it, clapping and cartwheeling and twirling fire as she skips, to the delight of Micah, who starts to giggle and jump up and down out of support. I've never been so creeped out by playground sports.

For only 25 cents a day, you can wire this child's mouth shut.

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Posted in Heroes by T.Vo at 12:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)
Last Comment: blahblah on Nov 2, 2007 07:50 AM.