My weekends have suddenly become empty again. A few of my favourite television shows were unmercilessly given the axe, coming to a rather quick and premature end. Some continued to keep us at the edge of our seats with their nail-biting season finales, leaving us wildly anticipating the return of the next season. Others ended their glorious years-long run on television with emotionally charged series finales and spectacularly fitting finishes that will have us reluctantly bid them a fond goodbye, like we would to an old friend.
So really: I had not seen this coming at all, but in the end it took Jack Shepherd six long years to become my new hero.
For Jack Bauer’s own sake, I hope he does not have to tell us about his ninth bad day.
In any case, I am not particularly sure if I want to know what Mark Benford’s second flashforward is.
Or if Olivia Dunham will one day get to ride away on a zeppelin in her quest for freedom.
(All these FBI agents have got it tough, huh?)
Oh well; at least Richard Rahl, as expected, got his own sweet happy ending.
But I still cannot believe Will Schuester actually serenaded me in my dreams.