Gather ‘round the fire and let uncle T.J. tell you a story. It was back in the year 1000 and I was at the tender age of 1000 coincidentimentally. I was in my room listening to the soothing melodies of the Deftones. As Chino reached the part where he said, “When you’re ripe, you bleed out of control,” I proceeded to throw my radio out of my window on the 388th floor of some crappy apartment complex. I watched the radio all the way until it hit the ground. That is when I noticed a dollar bill. I was pretty short on money (you know how being a millionaire is) and so I decided to retrieve this wonderful concoction of paper and modern currency printing presses. I got to the elevator just when someone had hit the button to go to the first floor. After prying the doors open with a combination of my bare hands and a neighbors poodle, I jumped on the elevator cords and slid down them Mission Impossible style until I reached a halt when I came crashing down on the top of the elevator. The people had reached their destination with success but I, as of that point in time, was not at mine. A few more people stepped onto the elevator and hit the button for the top floor. Unfortunately, for uncle T.J., the elevator went up much quicker than it went down. As the elevator started its accent at speeds of close to 100 miles per hour I knew that I was now, officially, in the shit. The elevator stopped, but I didn’t, sending me into a frightful flight fest of mammoth proportions. I was in the air for a brief period of time and eventually hit the ground at a high enough speed that would have made Wile E. Coyote proud. After shaking my head a few times I looked in front of me and there was the dollar. A steady wind then picked up, moving the dollar along an unbeaten path of the sidewalk. So, as a natural reaction, I arose to my feet and chased after that son of a bitch. The dollar continued to move and I continued to chase after it until we reached the docks. The dollar went into the water and a fish took it and went with it. At that point, I thought to just give up. As I turned to walk home an ashamed and beaten man, I saw a sight that said, “Boat for Sale.” That is when I got a plan. I went over, purchased the luxury fishing vessel, tore it down, picked up a board from its broken pieces, found the fore-mentioned fish, and proceeded to beat it senselessly. I beat the fish until it got out of the water and then it finally spat the dollar upon the shore. I thought I had finally won, when the wind once again caught the dollar. The dollar got about 500 feet away from me before my feet and legs remembered how to function together properly to let me walk. I ran after it, but a kid beat me to the punch. His mom was so happy because the child had finally learned how to walk. I didn’t want to give up now, I had come so close. So I punched out the kid’s mom, took the stroller she was holding, and then beat the child down until his hand let go of the dollar. I would have picked up the dollar then, but a large semi went by at the moment of my pick-uppage. In a bout of determination and stupidity, I jumped onto the back of a car. We caught up to the semi in due time, pulled it off to the side of the, and then my new friend and I beat the crap out of the driver. At that point, I looked under the tire and finally retrieved my hard earned dollar. I picked it up, looked at it for a while, and, upon closer examination, realized that it wasn’t a dollar, it was a piece of paper that said $1 on it. Then, everyone in the world started to charge me with pitch forks and, to make a long story short… Gather ‘round the fire and let uncle T.J. tell you a story.