The camera is zoomed in on a picture of Jesus Christ over a mantlepiece, and slowly pulls back to reveal a typical middle class living room. A boy of about 15 or 16 is sitting across from a couple who are presumably his parents. You can cut the tension in the room with a knife. The boy can scarcely make eye contact with his parents, and he nervously clenches and unclenches his hands as he awkwardly stumbles through his thoughts.

So guys...there's something I've been meaning to tell you for quite some time...it's...

The boy winces, he's really struggling. His parents listen on attentively, but with a touch of apprehension evident on their features.

This is really tough for me to say. I'm just not sure how you're going to react.

The mother looks at her husband with concern, and then looks back at the young man. You can tell us anything, sweety. She speaks the words, but even she doesn't sound completely confident in them.

The boy draws in a deep breath and plunges ahead. I've been keeping a big secret for a long time. And before I go any further, I need you to understand that this will NOT change and it's not some phase....

With that, both parents look at each other. Their eyes widen as realization dawns on them. The father turns back towards his son. Oh son, you're trying to say....

But the mother cuts in, smiling. Honey, we already know!

The boy looks taken aback. You do?!

The tension in the room eases as his mother chuckles. Oh, of course we do! We've known you were gay since you were a little boy!

The young man's face drops. ....what?

I mean, you preferred an E-Z Bake Oven to a football. And that Disney Princess spate you went on in grade school....

The boy suddenly looks horrified. What?! No, no, no! I'm not gay!!!!

His parents look confused. I don't understand....

I'm not Gay! I love poontang! Jesus! Oh my God!

His mother stammers, Well then what were you trying to tell us?

The boy unzips the hoodie he was wearing, revealing a BX3 t-shirt underneath. I'm a BX3 fan!

The mother instantly sobs and buries her face in her husband's chest. OH NO! How could you?!

The boy looks shocked. I'm asking you to accept me for who I am, I'm still your son!

His mother wails again, tears streaming down her face. Where did we go wrong?!!

The father looks steely now, pulsing with barely repressed rage. I HAVE NO SON! He points towards the door.

The boy, shocked and anguished, gets up and storms out of the house. The shot cuts outside, just as the boy leaves, and Joachim Bright sidles into the shot from the right.

Wow. That went a lot worse than I thought. Yikes. He watches the poor kid as he sits on the stoop, sobbing. Friends don't let friends BX3. Hey Dykey. I was trying to cut you some slack seeing as how we're on the same team...sort of. But if you wanna keep hammering on the only paltry material you got then as far as I'm concerned, all bets are off. Now, I know trolling is pretty much “your thing”, but for you to crap on me for losing to Chris when, on the same show no less, you lost to a guy who's even greener than me....well, you may wanna pick a different hill to die on. I mean, sure, you scored some recent tag victories, but given that those are the only matches you do seem to be winning lately, I'm inclined to think that Bilbo is probably the only thing keeping you afloat. Which is just really, truly, profoundly sad.

In the background, the kid's parents start tossing his clothes out of an upstairs window. He tries in vain to catch them before they all hit the dirt.

I wanted to like you. Really. The whole “denim queen with an identity crisis” gimmick is a new one on me. But for as much of an embarrassing asshole as Chris Chaos is, you're in pretty much the same boat, minus all the title wins and Top 50 spot. Plus, Chris has at least 2 people who take him seriously. Okay, Jenny's iffy. But you? Do YOU even take you seriously?

Sebasstian, you are a one note walking, talking Aristocrats joke who somehow has the cast iron balls (vagina? Engorged clitoris? Just what the hell is in that mess anyway?!) to accuse me of being the bigger joke. Even you know that doesn't fly. The only decent thing you do accomplish is that you are proof positive that somewhere out there, a sorcerer exists who insists on making golems out of pure “santorum”.

Normies, do NOT Google “santorum”.

The boys stereo gets tossed out of the upper floor window, smashing spectacularly all over the drive way.

So until you stop needing to rely on an 80 pound paraplegic to gain any kind of real traction, I recommend you take your foot off the gas here and find another place to plant your flag.

The boy's TV comes hurtling out the window as we fade out on the following image....

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