World of Heroes journal - I ain't no hero!
I'm not some kind of fucking superman. Let's get that straight right off the bat. I'm not a goddamn hero, here to save the fucking day and solve all your problems. I don't wear tights and I don't have a secret identity. That stupid shit is for the other fuckers, so full of themselves.
"I'm a hero and I save the day. I can do no wrong and my shit smells like daisies." Give me a fucking break.
What do I do? Nothing anyone else couldn't do. I answer the fucking phone at your goddamn insurance company. I listen to you people bitch and moan day in and day out about your cars, your buildings, your fucking "physical and emotional trauma" because some jackass in tights shoved you out of the way of another jackass throwing a car at you.
Why do some people call me a hero? Because I was in the wrong place at the wrong fucking time. Every damn day I regret making that call.
Yes. I'm the guy. I'm that poor dumb son of a bitch that caught Professor Useless.
It didn't take any skill.
I was just walking to my car, heading home, when he came at me. He shouted and I turned to face him. He tripped and ran head long in to the door, knocking himself out. All I did was stand there, holding the door open.
Then I did what any sane person would do, much to my regret; I called an ambulance. The paramedics called the cops when they found the knife in his hand.
Suddenly, I was this big fucking hero, stopped the greatest villain in the city. Fucking piss poor excuse for a super-villain if you ask me, but I guess I can't expect more from Salt Lake.
The news blew it all out of proportion saying there was this huge, epic battle but that I had "heroically managed to avoid incidental damage to surrounding property." I tried to correct them, but everyone shut me down, killing the true story before it could see print. Their version sold more news papers, and drew more viewers.
One paper, just one goddamn paper, the BYU Campus News, posted my story, buried on page 15C.
Fuck 'em.
Those bastards will learn the truth soon, whether they like it or not.
"I'm a hero and I save the day. I can do no wrong and my shit smells like daisies." Give me a fucking break.
What do I do? Nothing anyone else couldn't do. I answer the fucking phone at your goddamn insurance company. I listen to you people bitch and moan day in and day out about your cars, your buildings, your fucking "physical and emotional trauma" because some jackass in tights shoved you out of the way of another jackass throwing a car at you.
Why do some people call me a hero? Because I was in the wrong place at the wrong fucking time. Every damn day I regret making that call.
Yes. I'm the guy. I'm that poor dumb son of a bitch that caught Professor Useless.
It didn't take any skill.
I was just walking to my car, heading home, when he came at me. He shouted and I turned to face him. He tripped and ran head long in to the door, knocking himself out. All I did was stand there, holding the door open.
Then I did what any sane person would do, much to my regret; I called an ambulance. The paramedics called the cops when they found the knife in his hand.
Suddenly, I was this big fucking hero, stopped the greatest villain in the city. Fucking piss poor excuse for a super-villain if you ask me, but I guess I can't expect more from Salt Lake.
The news blew it all out of proportion saying there was this huge, epic battle but that I had "heroically managed to avoid incidental damage to surrounding property." I tried to correct them, but everyone shut me down, killing the true story before it could see print. Their version sold more news papers, and drew more viewers.
One paper, just one goddamn paper, the BYU Campus News, posted my story, buried on page 15C.
Fuck 'em.
Those bastards will learn the truth soon, whether they like it or not.