I never set out to be a hero. Hell, I never even set out to be this guy—a middle-aged divorced insurance salesman who used to have potential. But life has a way of kicking you in the teeth until you start wondering if maybe you should start kicking back.

Or, in my case, punching.

I used to box. Not professionally—just enough to win a few fights, lose a few more, and carry around the knowledge that I could, at any given moment, rearrange someone's facial structure if I really needed to.

For years, I kept that skill tucked away, like an old tool in the shed. Then one day, my boss—who used words like “synergy” unironically—told me I needed to “embrace rejection” after I lost a big sale. I don’t know what happened. Something in my brain just flipped.

And before I knew it—BAM. Right hook. Clean as ever. His toupee hit the ground before he did.

And that’s when I realized: Maybe God gave me this gift for a reason.

Step One: Washington, D.C.

I used my last paycheck to buy a bus ticket straight to the nation’s capital. If I was going to start fixing the world one punch at a time, I figured I should begin where the rot was deepest.

I didn’t have a plan. I just wandered until I saw Senator Blaine Coddington IV shaking hands with some billionaire outside a steakhouse. This guy had been on TV last week, saying Americans needed to "tighten their belts" while he sat in a $5,000 suit.

I walked right up to him.

“Excuse me, Senator,” I said.

He turned, plastered on that fake politician smile, probably assuming I wanted a selfie or to beg for healthcare.

Then I hit him.

Clean. Beautiful. Like something out of a Rocky montage.

Step Two: Cable News

After that, I needed to get the message out. So I went straight to a major news studio, walked past security like I belonged there, and found two talking heads in the middle of an argument about something neither of them actually cared about.

“Excuse me,” I said, stepping onto the set.

The anchor blinked at me. “Sir, you can’t be he—”

WHAM.

The punch connected, live on air. Millions of people watched as the smug expression melted from his face like butter in a microwave.

And you know what happened? The audience cheered.

Step Three: Tech Bros & Billionaires

By now, I had a following. People were tracking my movements like I was a folk hero, debating online where I’d strike next. They called me The Hammer.

Next stop? Silicon Valley.

I found a billionaire at a TED Talk explaining how AI was going to "revolutionize empathy." Whatever that meant, I knew it deserved a punch.

So I walked on stage.

He gave me this nervous little smile, like he wasn’t sure if I was a fan or an assassin. I didn’t give him time to figure it out.

CRACK.

The crowd gasped. Then, a lone person stood up and clapped. Then another. Then the whole room.

They got it.

The Fallout

The government tried to stop me. The police put out APBs. The media called me a "domestic terrorist"—but they were also running polls, and those polls showed that 72% of Americans approved of my work.

Suddenly, politicians were actually behaving. CEOs started paying their workers a living wage, terrified they’d be next. Cable news got… quieter. People started listening to each other because, deep down, everyone agreed on one thing:

Some people just need to be punched in the face.

I never stopped. I don’t think I ever will.

Somewhere out there, another grifter is making life worse for everyone. And somewhere close by, I’m coming for them.

The first sentence is true and not a jerk.

The fight was very entertaining and really good. I wish Morrel would’ve thrown more punches in the later rounds. Kept getting distracted by this cutie tho and who else noticed her?

Gentlemen, we meet again…who was the blonde? You know the one.

I haven’t seen such a dramatic main event since Tyson v. Wilder

Sources say Canelo didn’t need a translator and that Canelo spoke very clear English too.