The door of the modestly sized single family home opens and in steps Tommy Gunn. He shuts the door behind him and then stands in the foyer for a few seconds, almost as if he had expected someone to greet him, but no such greeting came. At least not initially.

Gunn is dressed as you would expect any gun loving, God fearing, Republican male to be dressed. Blue jeans, black boots, black jacket and a Harley Davidson knit cap on his head.

"Hello?" Gunn says to no one in particular.

And then...

A door shuts.

Footsteps from above can be heard.

Faster...louder...louder...fasted.

"Uncle Tommy!!! Uncle Tommy!!!" An overly excited and probably sugared up Christian Gun says as he runs down the steps two at a time.

The little spry nine year old wearing a black t-shirt that says "My Uncle Will Fuck Up Your Uncle" over top of Tommy Gunn's face runs up to his Uncle and gives him a big hug.

"You're here!!! You're finally here!!!" Christian says as he grabs Tommy's hand and pulls him through the foyer and into their living room.

"I'm here bud. Sorry it's been so long. Things have been a little hectic lately but your mom tells me you are doing great in school. Except in Math. What's going on there?" Tommy says as he walks over towards the fridge, pulls open the door and pulls out a Budweiser. He taps the top of the can and then cracks it open.

"Fuck Math!! The teacher is a bitch." Christian yells.

"Whoa buddy I'm pretty sure your mom doesn't want you talking like that."

"She's not here. How's she going to know? You wouldn't tell her would you Uncle Tommy?" Christian says as he looks up to his Uncle with those sad puppy dog eyes that make your heart melt.

"Of course not kid but try not to use that language again. I know I sometimes don't use the best language myself but do as I say, not as I do ok?"

"Ok Uncle Tommy."

"So here's the thing about Math bud, it's pretty useless. They teach it to you in school but really once you get out of school everything is automated. Calculators, computers, I-pads, Phones, they all do the work for you. So just do your best and get through it. Before you know it you'll be out in the real world and Math won't matter anymore. Speaking of Math, do you know how old I am Christian?" Gunn asks while taking a sip of his beer.

"Nope."

"And does not knowing how old I am change how you feel about me? You still love me right?"

"Are you talking about that bullsh..." Christian catches himself mid word..."Bullcrap Frodo promo?"

"Yep."

"Uncle Tommy can I just tell you, I've watched a lot of really stupid promos in my 9 years on this Earth. I fought Peter Gilmour remember? And even after having to watch his promos for a whole week I have to say that Frodo promo was by far the worstest most stupidest thing I've ever heard. Ever. I don't care how old you are and neither should he. You could be 24 or 30 or 50, you'll still kick his ass. I mean..."

"I'll allow that one. But thanks buddy. I appreciate the sentiment, and you are absolutely right. I'm glad that a nine year old can figure that out."

"You know what else nine year olds can figure out?"

"What's that buddy?"

"Nine year olds can figure out when guy like Mason Prince rips a good chunk of their promo right off of a TV show."

"What are you talking about? Prince did what?"

"Ever hear of a show called Team America?"

"No, should I have?"

"Not necessarily but a big chunk of his promo <----click the link bitches

"Really?"

"Yeah Uncle Tommy. Really."

"Well that's some bullshit but it's whatever. Like I told that ass rammer Frodo, it really doesn't matter what you say leading up to the match, it's what you do in the ring that matters. Even if what that person said was stolen from someone else. But good work kid. Nine year olds, the world's best detectives."

"Speaking of nine year olds what's the deal with Christopher Isles?" Christian asks Tommy as his Uncle polishes off his beer.

"What? What does Isles have to do with nine year olds?" Tommy asks curiously.

"That guy looks like he fondles nine year old's." Christian says while laughing.

"Jesus Christ, fondling? What do they teach you kids in school? As for Isles, I have no idea buddy. This is the same guy that lost a match to Ghost Tank. Do you know who Ghost Tank is? What am I saying? Of course you do, you're you. But seriously though, my best guess is that the little fairy's still afraid to show his face in public after that epic loss. Which is kind of a shame because if he showed up I would gladly rearrange his face for him so that he wouldn't have to feel embarrassed about walking around in public knowing that he lost to the worst wrestler in the world not named Frodo Smackins. Seriously. I would do that for Isles I feel that bad for the fuck. And honestly kid, even if his balls do suddenly drop and he gets up the courage to speak the worlds will be about as impactful a a feather to face. The guy lost to Ghost Tank. Ghost Fucking Tank."

"Uncle Tommy! Put 5 dollars in the swear jar." Christian says as he points to a big mason jar situated on the counter.

"We'll that's new." Tommy says as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a green monetary note. "You have change for a 20?"

Christian doesn't respond verbally, instead he just shakes his head "no."

"What are you talking about? I can see a $10 and a $5 in there."

"That jar is for deposits only Uncle Tommy. No withdrawals."

"You little con artist." Tommy says as he slips the $20 bill into the small hole cut in the top of the jar's plastic lid. "I'll remember this come Christmas time."

"No no it's ok. Here we can get you change." Christian says as he scrambles to grab the mason jar off the county.

"Too late kiddo. You said it yourself, deposits only." Tommy says, this time with a smile. "Tell you what kid. I need some help with something. If you can help me out I'll forget this little thievery ever took place, what do you say?"

"Deal."

"Don't you want to know what the favor is first?" Tommy asks as he reaches in the fridge to grab another beer.

"Ok. Lay it on me."

"Alright kid, here's the deal. I know fuck all about the internet. I mean, next to nothing. I know it exists, that's about the extent of it. In order to get my promos uploaded to the XWF website I have to threaten some Geek Squad guy at the local Best Buy. All the promos that are cut against me I have sent to my PO Box. Something Paul Heyman set up for me. Anyway, ever heard about this thing called a "Go Fund Me"?"

"Of course. My soccer team used one to pay for our trip to Florida last year." Christian says as he continues to listen intently to his uncle.

"What? Really? What ever happened to going door to door to sell candy?"

"Not safe. Too many Isles' out there."

"Hahaha. Fair enough. So anyway, you saw that abortion that Frodo called a promo. Well after watching it I had this idea. Why not start a "Go Fund Me" account so that we can hire Frodo a tutor to teach him how to actually trash talk and not talk trash."

Christian busts out laughing, much like everyone watching this promo is as well. Oh shit, did we just break the fourth wall? Who is we? What the fuck is going on here?

Anyway...

"So that's where you come in buddy. I need you to set up the account. Is that something you can do?"

"Absolutely." Christian responds as he jumps down from his seat. Runs over to the table and grabs his mother's laptop and then brings it back over to where he and Tommy were sitting.

Christian opens up the laptop and waits a moment for Windows to fire up. Once he does he clicks on the Google Chrome icon and then types in www.gofundme.com. Once there Christian clicks on a few more things and a new page opens up.

"Ok so first thing's first, name and email address?"

"Email address? I don't have one. What the hell do I need one of those for?"

"Uhhh to get email?"

"Forget it. I don't need anyone sending me electronic mail. Use some fake email address."

"We'll use mine. That should work." Christian punches a few more keys and then the page changes again. "Ok, password?"

"Fromo."

Christian giggles like a typical nine year old does in response to his Uncles answer. He types in a few more things and then comes to yet another page.

"Ok it's asking if we want to upload a picture of video? Do we want to do that?"

"Yes we do. Hold on a second." Tommy reaches into his side pocket and pulls out a piece of paper which he then unfolds and puts down on the table. "Use that."

"Ok will do." Christian says as he types in the address that was hand written on the piece of paper. "Ok looks good. Now there is a summary section. Essentially they want you to tell people why they should donate to this cause."

"Ok that's easy. Let me think for a second....Ok. Ok. You ready?"

"Yes."

"Frodo Smackins is a wrestler employed by the Xtreme Wrestling Federation(XWF). He often cuts promos in which he attempts to "trash talk" his opponents. The truth is the only person in the Milky Way Galaxy who finds Frodo's "trash talk" to be entertaining is the little fuckface himself. And it is with that in mind that "American Hero" Tommy Gunn wants to do Frodo a solid and help the little cock gobbler out by opening up this Go Fund Me Account. The goal here is that fans of the XWF can ban together and help buy Frodo Fuckins a licensed Trash Talk Tutor so that in the future they too will not have to suffer through another shitty Frodo Smackins promo.

Will you help this little wayward polesmoker or are you happy to sit back and watch this douchenozzle embarrass himself over and over and over again?"

"Perfect." Christian types in a few more commands and then turns the laptop towards his uncle. "What do you think?"






Fade to Laughter.