Not a *Bleepin* Hero...

Robert Laplant runs into a burning building and just as he helps the last of the one hundred tenants out of the inferno he dies in a explosion as the fire reaches a gasline. He leaves behind a son and an ex wife. Now why bring this up? Because some people are dumb f***s who can't help but to do stupid shut like run into burning fuckin' buildings just to get killed. My father always told me to keep a low profile, keep your head down and to look out for you and yours and f**k everyone else. So how the f**k did I end up in the middle of a motherfuckin' shoot out at the bank! Me; Frank Morris in a fuckin' bank play hero! I'm no hero... far fuckin' from it.. but here I am blocking bullets with a fuckin' pansy-ass force field. I am so not that guy...; some fuckin' untard-wearing-panties-on-the-outside-super-fairies but here I am. All I wanted to do was watch the game and drink my fuckin' beer but then the game was interrupted by a special report.. Some fuckin' assholes decided to rob a bank during the fuckin' play offs that resulted in a fuckin' standoff. So I grabbed a fuckin' potato sack from the kitchen, cut some fuckin' holes in it so to stop these bank-robbing-assheads just to get the game back on tv.. Now I'm saving people who, if they passed me in the street they would look through me... But here the f**k I am saving them.. And what makes this worse us that that fuckin' ghosty b***h told me that I would save people... But I am getting way ahead of myself.. All of this started on a rainy night at the university where I work nights as a janitor.