Why is it that people think they know everything about me just because they see me on television once a week for 10 minutes?

“Seriously Gunn, why are you such an asshole?” Chimes in a guy who probably wouldn’t be so forward with his words if he wasn’t surrounded by 5 of his friends, all wearing various trucker hats and t-shirts with the sleeves cut off.

“Look…whatever the fuck your name is. I’m here to enjoy some time with my nephew, so why don’t you piss the fuck off before you say something that will get you and your 5 friends into some serious trouble.”

These fucking people. I swear to God. Everything thinks they are a tough guy when they have back up. But put these fucking in a wrestling ring or an octagon and see how fast their balls ascend back inside their body. This Larry the Cable guy look alike is no different. And who accosts someone at a fucking dog park?

Off in the distance about 30 yards away I can see my nephew Christian playing with the puppy I gave him for his birthday, a Belgian Shepherd Dog which he immediately named Ollie. If you are curious where the name came from, Christian is a big fan of the show Arrow, and the main character on that show is named Oliver Queen, often referred to as Ollie. Currently Ollie is engrossed in a battle to end all battles with a character named Deathstroke aka Slade Wilson, he’s a bad man. Or so my nephew says. I haven’t seen the show myself. I just can’t get behind someone based on comic books, fucking nerds.

Anyway, back to the asshole in the trucker hat.

“You reckon you can take all 6 of us? Is that what you’re saying Tommy Gunn and what kind of ass name is Tommy Gunn anyway?”

First a bar now a park. Honestly I can’t go anywhere without running into a guy who thinks it’s his job to try and look like the toughest guy in the room. I guess this might be one of the drawbacks to being semi famous. Especially when it involves something like professional wrestling, where apparently, and this was news to me, but there are people out there, usually middle aged men who have issues separating what happens in the ring from what happens out here in the real world. Just because they see me as some overly aggressive hate filed egomaniac on TV, they think that that’s who I am all the time. Unfortunately for them, they would be right. But even I have the brain power to know that beating down 6 idiots with beer bellies in front of a few dozen people, my nephew among them is not the sort of thing that would endear me to the bosses at the XWF. Regardless of my working relationship with Madness Commissioner Paul Heyman.

“Tell you what fella, I’m going to walk away from this because I promise you this will not end well for you and your band of merry men if I don’t.

I guess a part of me hoped that this guy would take the hint and let me walk away, part of me, despite having been shown time and time again what a man will do when his toughness is called into question was hoping that this time would be different.

It wasn’t.

This jackass is just like every other jackass. Instead of taking a second to reevaluate things and seeing that perhaps this isn’t the best time to make a scene he instead opts to dig his heels in and go full . I guess if we had to give this guy a name we could call him Peter Gilmour. But not Gilmour Classic, that guy is a fucking riot.

So anyway, as I turn around to leave guess what happens? Peter Gilmour shoves me in the back. Not the real Peter Gilmour, the idiot I’m calling Peter Gilmour because his actual name at this point is irrelevant. Just like the real Peter Gilmour.

“Hey bub, I’m not done with you.”

Before I could respond someone else does for me.

“Is everything alright here?” The words came from a man no bigger than 5’11, maybe 200 pounds on a good day. He is wearing a tan button up shirt with a black hat. The emblem on the hat matches the one on his left and right sleeves “Park Ranger.” So clearly this man has some authority though I can’t imagine it’s much given that his charge is animals and not people. No weapon of any kind, just a walkie talkie and a small bottle of mace rest on his belt.

“I said, is everything alright here?” The man throws out there, this time with a little more force. Clearly he could sense the tension in the air.

“Everything’s fine here Rick.” Says the leader of the gang.

Ranger Rick? You can’t make this shit up.

“Just having a chat here with a local celebrity.”

“Oh really a celebrity, and who might you be?”

“I’m just a guy in a park with his nephew and his nephew’s new dog.”

“I see. You do look familiar, what do I know you from?”

“Nothing. Like I said, I’m just a guy at a park with his nephew and his nephew’s new dog which reminds me, I need to get back to him.” Why do I get the sense that Ranger Rick here spends his nights at some bar housed in a double wide with the Larry the Cable Guy lookalike and his five friends?

“Well now hold on there a minute. Is this guy bothering you Sam?”

So that’s his name. Sam. Looked more like a Bubba, or a Billy Bob or some other name reserved for inbred assholes whose idea of a good time is a John Deer tractor race and a case of light beer.

“Na Rick, just some city boy thinking he’s something special is all.”

“Well city boy, I guess it’s about time you move along.”

Really? I suppose a few minutes ago when I asked if I could move on it wasn’t time yet, but now apparently it is. These cousin fucking, backwoods bastards really need to get their shit together.

“Sounds good. You keep those chipmunks safe there Ranger Rick.”

“Whatcha say city boy?”

“Nothing Ranger Rick. Nothing.”

It’s a good thing Christian is a well adjusted kid and that the area where he and Ollie are playing is fenced in otherwise God knows where the hell the two of them would be. Leaving a kid unattended is always a recipe for disaster, I suppose that’s why I don’t have any kids of my own.

Yeah that’s it, that’s what I’ll go with.

As I close in on Christian and Ollie I see something that both amazes me as well as surprises me. Christian, a notoriously introverted child is speaking with a young woman, probably early 20’s and petting her small dog while Ollie runs circles around them, chasing what looks like a butterfly or a small bird.

As I finally get to where the small group is congregating the young woman looks up me, smiles politely.

“Well hello there.” She says with a high pitched and bubbly voice. The young woman is dressed in what I would consider a typical outfit for someone of her age and size to be wearing at the park. Short black mesh shorts, a pink tank top and white sneakers. She’s holding a dog leash in her hands which is connected to the light pink collar attached to the dog that Christian is currently petting.

“Hello.”

The young woman looks at Christian and then me and finally back at Christian.

“Is this your dad?”

Christian looks up at me with a smile on his face. “No, that’s my uncle Tommy. He’s a professional wrestler. He gets to kick peoples butt for a living.”

Kids…they say the darndest things. His response clearly caught the woman a little off guard but it got a laugh out of her nonetheless.

“Oh is that so?” She responds, still with a smile on her face. Either the smile is the result of too much plastic surgery and thus is permanently stuck there, or this chick is one of those annoying women who are always happy.

Seriously, have you ever met someone that is always happy, no matter what and not hated them? Someone runs over their dog, but its ok, it could have been worse. They got fired from work, but it’s ok, it’s a sign from God. Their entire family just burned to death in a fire but they are still happy to be alive. I know people like that. I hate people like that. It’s not that I am perpetually miserable, I’m not. Though most people would claim otherwise. It’s just that I hate people whose own happiness is overwhelming. This chick feels like she could very well be one of those people.

“Yeah last week he beat up some crack head named Frodo. I didn’t get to watch the whole match, my mom made me turn it off. She doesn’t like when I watch violence.”

“I can’t say I blame her there. Violence is very bad.” She says, agreeing with my sister but also not passing judgment on me and what I do.

“Well kid you almost ready to go?”

“Do we have to Uncle Tommy. Ollie just made a friend and so did I.”

“I can see that, and what is your friend’s name?”

Tommy looks up at me and smiles, he is missing one of his front teeth after he took a hockey ball to the face in gym class, but that didn’t stop him. He kept playing, refused to come out of the game. A trait he got from his father, someone else who didn’t know what it meant to quit.

“Her name is Hannah.”

“Hello Hannah. Tommy, Tommy Gunn.” I say as I extend my hand. Not really sure what the proper greeting is for a situation such as this. I guess a handshake is common place so that’s what I go with.

“Hi Tommy. Nice to meet you. You have a great nephew here.”

“That I do. He’s a great kid. Makes life easier for my sister that’s for sure.”

“I’ll bet. Well it was nice to meet you Christian, and you as well Tommy. Hopefully I’ll see you both and Ollie around here from now on.”

“Oh yes, definitely. We just got Ollie so we will be here all the time now.”

Hannah smiles, Christian does the same.

“Come on Christian, time to get home.”

“Bye Hannah.”

“Bye Christian. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

Christian tugs on Ollie’s leash getting the dog’s attention. It takes him a few tugs before the dog finally responds and comes with us as we walk to the parking lot and to the car. Just a typical day at the park I suppose.