Embarrassing

I’m perched a top of the Beaver Hotel. Ninety per cent of the criminal activity in the town occurs at that bar.
Rain splatters on my brown superhero leotard. I wipe the water from my eyes and look down.
Three drunk bar patrons bust out of the door. It’s two on one. I think the score needs to be evened out.
My superhero training kicks in and I bolt for the door to the stairs to get to street level and stop the fight.
I can’t wait to have my gloved fists smash into their faces. I want to hear the snapping of bones and the gnashing of teeth. I haven’t been in a good beating for a while. This is going to be sweet.
I race over to door and turn the knob.
Crap! It’s locked. How the hell am I supposed to get down now.
I make my way to the edge of the building once more. There’s a ledge. I shimmy down to one-foot-wide overhang, and look for my next move.
There isn’t one. I’m screwed.
Two hours later. A fire truck arrives on the scene. They use the ladder to get me down.
Why didn’t you just go in through a window? The fireman asked.
I didn’t want to wake anybody up.