I didn’t intend to be a hero.
But as a result, I lost my job, my wife and both of my girlfriends.
And it’s not true what you might have read in the paper that I was drinking and driving. At least I wasn’t driving.
You see, when I left the bar, I went straight to the bus stop for a ride home.
It’s also not true that I was thrown out of the bar. I was asked to leave because it was after closing time. Technically, it wasn’t closing time when they started asking me to leave. But by the time the police arrived, it was definitely after closing time.
Anyway, when I finally made it to the bus stop I found out that the next bus wasn’t coming until early morning. So I hiked all the way back to the bar and found it was on fire.
So I gently broke the window and went inside to see if anyone needed to be rescued.
It was the prosecuting attorney who said the fire didn’t start until after I broke in. But he wasn’t there at the time, nor was anyone else, so what does he know?
Anyway, I tried to put out the fire.
But as it turns out, whiskey, vodka, gin and rum aren’t the most ideal fire retardants; which means I had to work extra hard until the fire department arrived.
Ultimately, I was so exhausted from my volunteer firefighting activities, that by the time I managed to stumble back to the bus stop I fell into a deep, deep sleep.
And that’s why I don’t know who took my clothes off and put them in a pile.
OK, this part of the story is a little confusing, but that’s only because the bus driver isn’t telling the whole truth. I mean really, why would I set my clothes on fire and throw them in the bus? That’s illogical.
The bus pulled up in the morning, the driver walked outside, woke me up, brought my pile of clothes into the bus and set them on fire himself, before running away. I don’t know why. Maybe he was under stress and needed some time off?
So, as I was getting onto the bus I tripped and landed on the driver’s seat. And as I just explained, it wasn’t my fault that I wasn’t wearing any clothes.
And, yes, there were three nuns on the bus. But they weren’t yelling at me. They were yelling as a result of the smoke and fire and the bus driver running away.
And then the bus started to move.
So that’s how I saved those three nuns from certain doom. Because after the bus hit 12 parked cars and drove through the front door of that closed pizza shop, I was able to bring it to a safe stop and get them off the bus before everything exploded in a massive fireball.
I’m sure my boss will re-hire me. And my wife and both girlfriends will come back, once they learn the truth: that I’m just a misunderstood arsonist, I mean hero! I’m just a misunderstood hero!
by George Alger
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