We catch up with Tropical Punch as he’s in a bog, somewhere. He’s in a pair of green waders, an orange sweatshirt, and he looks all to happy to be walking in the mud with a medium sized glass tank with a handle. In the tank we see a few frogs, all who also look happy to be with TP on his birthday, because today is TP’s birthday.

Cal looks up from the pond he’s wading around in, looking for frogs. He already has a neat little carrying case with a few in there, they’re really cool!

"I like frogth. I collect a couple then let the adorable little guyth go, it'th good for my thtamina and hand thpeed too."

Cal's phone rings in his pocket, the unmistakable “Party Rock Anthem” blaring from within deep in his waders. He pulls it out and answers.

"Hello?"

Cal listens attentively.

"Oh, thorry, you got the wrong number. It'th okay, it happenth a lot, I gueth Gary didn't update hith contactth. Oh you're okay, how are you?"

Cal listens in earnest to another person trying to reach Gary.

"Oh, I'm tho thorry to hear that? I hope your cat getth better, Mithter Mittenth ith very lucky to have a loving owner like you. Do you want to catch frogth with me thometime?"

Cal listens. In the distance, someone shoots a bottle rocket. Cal looks excited!

"Oooh, fireworkth!"

Another bottle rocket goes off.

"I dunno, I better let thethe frogth go before they get thcared. Can I call you back?"

Cal nods as his new friend he just made out of the blue responds.

"Awethome, I will call you at thikth."

Cal returns his phone to his pocket, his adorable lisp and gracious charm earning him another spontaneous friend. He opens his frog box and lets all the little critters out, back to swim and play in the pond, as he walks towards the fireworks, seeing a full blown carnival!

"Oh, boy, a carnival! I want a funnel cake!"

TP doffs his waders, revealing his favorite comfy pajama pants underneath, as he approaches the carnival. He pulls out his wallet and pays for entry. He looks up at a man who must be fifteen feet tall and juggling.

"Wow, thtiltth and juggling. That’th really neat!"

TP continues his way down the midway to an area rife with exciting and fun rides. He stops at a dunk tank, and in looking up, he sees none other than flea market and bowling alley wrestling legend “Rhubarb” Rube Horowitz is seated above the tank. Cal waves at RRH, recalling their past matches. RRH waves back; TP was and is the consummate sportsman and competitor, Rube held no animosity to the young man’s current fortunes. Besides, it’s his birthday!

"Tropical Punch! What are you doin’ here?"

"Well, Ru-ru, I wath out catthing frogth like you know I like to, but then I thaw a carnival and thome really cool fireworkth and wanted a funnel cake!"

"Oh, well, that’s just swell, Mr. Punch!"

"Say…"

"I bet you can’t hit that target and dunk me!"

TP beams, overjoyed by the friendly challenge of Rube, master of no specific lock, hold, or maneuver in the ring.

"Oh yeah? Hey, let me get thome of thothe ballth. Thorry, Horowitth, but you’re getting dunked on today!"

"That’s the spirit, TP! Hey, before you do, why don’t you tell me about your next opponent?"

Cal is handed a softball. He looks at it then the camera.

"Matthiath Thyn."

"I have to give credit where it’th due here, I mean, you’ve been the Revoluthion Title holder for quite thome time now, and you’ve diligently defended that championthip againtht all challengerth."

"The dedicathion to your craft ith noted."

"I even admire the way you got incapathited and abducted, and ath thoon ath you were free you began to prepare for a matth."

"I would never have been found tho unthuthpecting by thome would be thneaky athailant looking to potenthially cathtrate me."

"Thuplekth Mathine."

"Utter Dominathion."

"Thethe are wordth people uthe to dethcribe me."

"Tho I'm not going to thweat your vagarieth, generalitieth, or overthimplified dithcourthe about what you are capable of."

"Becauthe ath imprethive ath the reign of Thyn hath been on Anarchy with the Revoluthion Championthip, thith, Matthiath, ith Warfare, thith ith the Ideth of Markth tournament, I have buthted my ath in the gym and in ringth acroth the highwayth and bywayth, up one interthtate, acroth another, and everywhere in between."

"Your compulthion for wreckleth violenthe doeth a dithervithe to the thport of wrethling. True competithion ith about prethithion and ekthecuthion."

TP hurls the ball, hitting a bullseye. Horowitz drops into the tank. Cal continues to walk through the midway, approaching the pale glow of a funnel cake stand. A young lady steps forward. Astutely, you recognize her as Penelope, who is a team lead at a car wash.

"Mr. Punch! What an absolute pleasure to see you!"

"Hello! It'th nithe to thee you, I didn't know you thold funnel caketh and work at a car wath!"

"Well, Mr. Punch, sometimes a little moonlighting goes a long way! That sweet, sweet car wash management money pays the bills, but I really like having a nest egg lined up."

"That'th very withe Mith Penelope."

"Thank you, Mr. Punch."

The people behind Cal in line don't mind at all they're waiting a little longer to get a snack as he and Penelope have their discourse. They're completely taken in by TP's impeccable charm and adorable smile.

"What may I get for you?"

"I would like a funnel cake, pleathe."

"Is that all, Mr. Punch?"

"Well, I dunno. I uthually don't treat mythelf to thweetth, but it ith my birthday."

"Really? Mr. Punch, you get a free six dozen fried Oreos since it's your birthday!"

The people in line know what to do.

“Happy Birthday to you!”

The people spinning in the Graviton join in.

“Happy Birthday to you!”

The carnies running the games and those playing jump in.

“Happy Birthday dear Tropical Punch!”

Penelope belts out the final line.

“Happy Birthday to you!”

TP looks so happy as someone puts a party hat on him. A massive platter of fried Oreo cookies is presented to him with a candle on top. He blows it out.

"Thank you, thethe look delithiouth!"

TP bites into a cookie that is batter dipped, fried, and coated with powdered sugar. He smiles.

"Mmmm! Thith ith a wonderful thurprithe!"

Cal finishes his confection and passes the platter around. Everyone gets a fried Oreo cookie on Tropical Punch's birthday. If you're reading this, go make one! You simply need to heat oil in a pan to 400 degrees. Take a cup of pancake batter, dip an Oreo in it, then place the oreo in the oil for two minutes! Easy!

TP enjoys his funnel cake and gently excuses himself. Leaving the carnival, he walks up to his yellow Humvee and enters it.

"Matthiath, Matthiath, Matthiath."

"The thing you mith, however, the thing that baffleth uth all, ith how you think you’re a cult leader."

"What ith a cult without followerth?"

"What ith a preakther without a parith?"

"What ith a faith with out practithionerth, what are tenetth without thothe to uphold them?"

"You conthantly tell uth all, Matthiath, that you are a prophet."

"What ith a prophet if nobody believeth him?"

"You can wrethle, Matthiath. You are talented enough in the ring to move beyond your thtathion currently, to rithe and thurpath not only otherth but yourthelf and your own dreamth."

"Then Matthiath Thyn rampth up thome hogwath about being a leader and not a thoul around even careth."

"Tho you can keep your prayerth, Matthiath, you can keep your credo, your athpirathions of athenthion to the heaventh, to the pinnacle of thome thcheme you maintain to thuthtain at any lithener’th ekthpenth."

"Becauthe ath good ath you are, I’m good at what I do too, and I will work harder, I will train more, I will puth mythelf patht your limitth and the only thing thtopping me ith time itthelf."

TP drives off into the evening air, enjoying his birthday, as we hear the croaking of frogs in the distance.