Life has a way of making perfect sense until you wake up and find you are 20 minutes late for work and there's no way on Earth you're going to tell the boss you overslept, so you come up with some ridiculous lie about how you came upon a nasty accident, and since you were the only one around who knew the number to 911, you were obligated to stay and render whatever aid you could give, to the best of your ability.
The horrific wreck, which was 20 miles south of the Middle of Nowhere, was burning when you came upon it, bodies were strewn across the county road like dropped matchsticks, and the smell of gas fumes meant an explosion was eminent.
With only moments to spare, you moved the helpless victims away from the wreckage, beat the fire down with your jacket, performed CPR on three victims at the same time, set the broken leg of a middle-aged woman who kept screaming she was going to die, and sang a lullaby to soothe a scared little toddler who seemed to be the only person not hurt in all the carnage.
Exactly eight minutes later, the ambulances started to arrive and you, not wanting to be known or recognized as a hero, quietly snuck away just like Batman, but without the utility belt.
"Sure I was late, so fire me," you tell the boss as you head to the men's room to comb your hair. You slam the door shut just for effect.
The boss, stunned at your boldness, stares at the place where you were just standing and contemplates early retirement.