My hero isn’t that guy flying around town in his underpants with an ridiculous explanation for his powers.
My hero is that man who spoon-fed me me, changed my diapers and worked his ass off to give his family the best he could provide.
My hero smacked my little black butt up-side-down when I acted a fool… heck! He wouldn’t hesitate to knock some sense into me in public. And though I didn’t like it back then, I can now look back with a smile, because… my ol’ man was right.
My hero complimented his kids when we did what we were supposed to do and rewarded when rewards were due. Open and fair in his judgement, he would listen and hear what his little ones had to say.
My hero showed his boys how a real man treats a woman. *scoffs* These youngins think they know girls. They think “they bad”, but they struggle to keep a girl for anything longer then 25 months. Ha, pops is running his game for 25 years now… and momma?!? Still in love with the man. They still find time to act like love-struck teens to the extend where we all think “C’mon, get a room or sum’thin!!!”. Now that is PLAYIN’ your cards right.
My hero never ceased to stay humble and he never forgot his hero, whom most of us commonly refer to as GOD.
Ha, I’m probably too much impressed by my pops. Something you would only expect from toddlers at kindergarten with their “My daddy is bigger… my daddy is stronger”. But seriously, can you blame me?
My hero doesn’t need kryptonite, spider-bites or any of such crap and he doesn’t walk around in a pathetic costume. Nahhh, this man is uncensored… no disguises. Mr. H. Asabina… THE man.
Love ya, pops.