“It’s pretty simple,” I told him, “I am riding around in a limo. I am eating fast food. When I am done, I have to throw out my trash, right?”
The policeman nodded.
“Well I don’t want garbage junking up my limo, right?”
He poked his head inside and let out a low whistle.
“That is a pretty sweet limousine!” he agreed.
“Fuckin’ A right it is! So you see my dilemma, right?”
He put up some fuss about pulling over and finding a garbage can, but I can’t be bothered with that and he came to understand that. His heart really wasn’t in it.
After all, I was a hero! If he had known it was my limo, he probably wouldn’t have pulled me over in the first place.
Besides, people who work for the city get paid to pick up garbage. Why should I do their job for them? Nobody did my job for me when I volunteered to go up in a spaceship and blow a meteor to smithereens that was on a collision course to destroy earth, did they?
Now my job is riding around in a limo wherever I want. To the people who say I didn’t earn it, I have one response for you: Bull. Shit. Go to hell. You can die for all I care!
I didn’t see you jerks volunteering to take flying shed on the top of a goddamn rocket, fly like a million miles into space and blow that motherfucker up. No, you didn’t. I did. And I get my reward for that.
There have been all these stories in the papers about how we’re not really heroes. Or we’ve been paid back enough. Oh really? Has Bruce Willis been paid back enough? Think about that while you’re not dead this weekend. Bah, you won’t even!
I’m a simple blue collar guy who happens to be earth’s greatest hero. I just want what’s mine: my mountaintop mansion, my gold limo and immunity from all criminal prosecution until the day I die.
So next time, pig, I’m not gonna be so polite. If you pull me over, I’m gonna dump my trash on your head and make you eat the dust of my rocket-powered gold limo as I laugh and say, “Welcome to garbage town!”