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It was the third doorknob Liz Lemon had broken today, it was only eleven am, she hadn’t yet figured out a way to turn it into a sketch--at least one that didn’t end in ME WANT FOOD and Flying Spaghetti Monster she was not going down that road again--and Pete so far hadn’t been successful in convincing Tracey that his lawyers weren’t demons. Or something like that.The point being, she had enough on her plate (Plate! Clearly she hadn’t learned her No Skipping Breakfast Or Else the Blue People Attack lesson) and she had time for neither shoddy workmanship, nor superstrength, nor any combination thereof.Jenna was unsurprisingly unsympathetic.“Liz, I know how much you secretly wish you were a superhero like those jedi hobbits in Star Trek, but can you save your nervous breakdown for a time when I don’t need you to help me contact my dead-half-great-aunt Daisy through a psychic recommended by Dr. Spacemen? She died in a fire on the set of Gone With the Wind and I could really use the advice of someone with such a successful film career.”“Star Wars! And the Jedi did not have superstrength per se but I suppose you could say their force-enhanced muscles were—“ Jenna cut her off with a gesture.“Bored now.” And ran off after Kenneth the Page yelling about séances and Ouiji.Frank was, if this was even possible, less helpful.His hat said VAMPYR and he nodded at her solemnly. Whatever. Loser.When she went to look for Pete she found him and Tray arguing with some men in suits about salt mines and Liz had always had a thing against them ever since she learned about diamond mines and blood diamonds and okay, so they don’t have anything to do with one another, but neither does your MOM.Her support network exhausted, Liz decided to turn to the first evil: Jack.“Look, Lemon, I find it distinctly easy to believe that a woman of your level of…peculiarity… might spontaneously develop some mutant abilities. Now, unless you think we can turn it into a reality show for the next time you communists abandon your sacred duty-" He was still pretty pissed off about that whole ‘strike’ thing. "I don’t particularly care. Tell Jonathan which doors are broken on your way out and he’ll arrange for maintenance to take care of them. And remember this: the pen is mightier than the sword unless the sword is held by someone with freakish strength, in which case no one is mightier than that. Except me. Now if you’ll excuse me.”And with that he joined the rather portly man on the balcony, and in unison, they stuck cigars in their ears.She turned around and was startled to find Jonathan already standing there.“That’s funny, I didn’t see your reflection in the window.”He was smirking and his teeth somehow… glinted, and she felt a very weird urge to stab him in the heart with something wooden.Jack stuck his head back in the room.“Oh and Lemon? Please don’t stake my assistant. It’s so rare to find one that doesn’t age and will agree to be paid in the blood of washed-out pages. I’d check out Brian Williams’ office if you’re spoiling for a fight. There’s always a few of the undead hanging out down there.”Not knowing how to respond to this, Liz said,“So’s your face!”Since it made her feel a whole lot better about the ability to destroy doors and random murderous urges, she flounced out of the room and back down into the studios where she grabbed a cookie off the caterer’s cart and broke Conan’s office doorknob such that the door was stuck closed because nobody was going to beat up Jon Stewart on Liz Lemon’s watch.