My apartment complex could have burned down just moments ago had I not decided to walk my dogs a little earlier than their usual twilight stroll. And what through my wondering ears did I hear, but a fire alarm, and no one near.
So I flew to the door to see what was the matter. Nobody was home.
Except two litle catter. Anyway. I called my apartment complex toute suite, and then 911.
My apartment manager arrived first. She opened the door and ran into the kitchen to turn off the stove. It's a good thing there wasn't a backdraft. She ran in there like she was Xena, but she came out coughing from the smoke and had to sit down on the stairs.
The firemen arrived moments later. I got heralded as a hero, patted on the back by a passing neighbor. And I swooped back to my apartment to write the story.
Clark Kent, I want to be just like you.