Once I took a cigarette out of a guys mouth and flicked it to the side. He glared at me and then I gave him a little boop on the nose.
"Smoking kills," I said gruffly, "I just saved your life."
He got really close to me, our noses almost touching. I know, gay right? But don't worry, you'll live. He was still glaring as he grumbled a quick thanks and then walked past, giving me a pat on the back as he walked away.
I was in many ways a hero. Saving lives was just what I did. It's all I had ever done since I was kid. It started all when I was a youngin' growing up on my grandparents' farm. My grandpa was about to shoot one of the pigs to use it for meat for the winter. But I knew I had to stop him. I told him it was wrong but my grandpa just told me to go away and go inside, and to not bother him while he was working. So I took my favorite baseball bat and hit my grandpa over the head, and then let the pig go free. My grandpa was pretty mad. I had never gotten a beating like I did that day before. My butt was red and stinging for days after. But I knew it was well worth the sacrifice for that pig. Ever since that day I knew it was my fate and destiny to fight evil doers and save lives.
Like one time I went to a bar, and one of the guys made just the worst comment to one of the waitresses. Something about her having really nice long hair. Disgusting pig. So I naturally sprang into action. I broke my glass over the mans head, and once he was good and unconscious I kicked him a few times for good measure. I said, "You're welcome," to the clearly grateful women as she stared at me with her mouth wide open and eyes wide. The look of pure admiration and appreciation. That's what I live for.
Another time this guy did not hold the door open for me as I struggled out of a coffee shop with TWO drinks in my hands. The injustice was too much to handle, and so I threw my five dollar cup of hot coffee at the man. As he cried out in pain, distracted by the boiling hot liquid dripping from his skin, I swooped in and gave him the old one two. I knocked him from his wheel chair and and smashed his face against the concrete.
"Maybe next time you'll think twice before being so self centered and not holding the door for someone," I said as I kneeled on top of him to prevent the villain from escaping.
"Why would you do this," the man whimpered like a coward.
"Just doing my job, sir, you're welcome," I got up and walked away, my heroic act enough to compensate for my spilled coffees.
This was my life. A hero. A martyr. A savior. And I was happy to do it and people just loved me. So yeah, you could say I like to beat people up. In the name of justice!
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