As Colin Gomez ran away from his tormentors, he realized he hadn't screwed up in the normal way this time. To him, "screwing up" was a fancy way of saying that he, say, hit his head off the overhang in his apartment. Or maybe accidentally gave someone the wrong amount of change at the cornerstore his Mama owned. Not his fault, but embarrassing nonetheless. Today, though, it was different. For he was running from the 3 biggest problems in his neighborhood: Butchie, Frackle, and Mace.

Colin was 16, Hispanic, with tanned skin, jetty black hair that could be cornrowed (but he preferred it to stick out), and 6' 6". His mama always told him that his dad was at least 6'11", but he couldn't prove that. His father had left when he was 2, pretty much like every other father in the small ghetto he lived in in San Diego. His face was thin, with caved in cheekbones, a thin outline of a beard growing in, and an overall "sunken, depressed" demeanor. Ladies acted like they didn't pay attention, but Colin knew they all had a thing for him. At least, he THOUGHT they did. Whether they did or not, he didn't really care. He was one of the few people in his circle of friends that believed in waiting for the right girl to come along

As he ran, he thought about the incident. Sure, it wasn't HIS fault, but who else would Butchie blame for punching him and robbing his store? Long story short, there was a robbery. Butchie: Pissed. Blames: Colin. Colin: At home with Mama and Chica. Still, even after proclaiming his innocence countless times, Butchie had him cornered, Knife in hand, ready to avenge his father's business. Colin couldn't do anything except run. He heard the sound of a pistol fire behind him, the bullet whizzing by his head...

He ran into an alley, cornered between the walls of the apartments. Looking around, he spotted a small doorway he hadn't noticed. He had come down this alley many times, mostly to just loiter, but never had he seen a doorway there. "Questions later," he mumbled to himself before ducking inside. But when Butchie, Frackle and Mace came into the alley, they saw nothing. Not even a door.

Breathing heavily, Colin regained himself. As he raised his head, he realized he was not in someone's home, but in a small shop. Behind the counter sat an old man, one Colin had never seen before. He was old, with white hair and beard, but still standing up straight like a 20 year old man. The nameplate on the counter seemed to be the only new thing in the shop, and it simply read "Insert name here."

"What brings you here, my friend?" The man asked Colin in a surprisingly younger voice.

"Oh, the usual," he replied. "Crime, Guns, and an angry ass hornet of a shopkeeper." Colin had a thing for sarcasm. It may have gotten him in trouble once or twice, but it made his Máma and Chica laugh.

Secretly, Colin had always dreamt about becoming a comedian. Walking up onto the stage with nothing but your smile and a good sense of humor, making the audience hold their sides in laughter... he thought that maybe making other people smile would lessen the pain of his current situation. And maybe, just maybe, he could give himself, Mama, and Chica hope. but every time he thought of the idea, he'd shake the feeling off, telling himself that no one would listen to him. What did a kid from a slum in the middle of San Diego know, anyway?

"Well, welcome to my store," the old man said, snapping Colin back into reality. "Customers have been slow to come in lately, but I know Business will pick up eventually."

"Maybe your first step should be to get a shop, umm, on the street," Colin said as he examined the shop. Junk lined the shelf on the decrepit wall, old tin cans and papers everywhere. But one item caught his eye. In the corner, buried behind some old newspaper, was a TV. Colin had never owned a TV. The closest he ever got to owning technology was an old MP3 player his friend Gomez had sold him, and all the music on it was by a country rock group, the Zac Brown Band. He still loved it though, and he had grown to love the only band on it over the years. Seeing no cracks in the screen, he asked the old man, "how much for this hunk of junk?"

"Hey now, don't talk about yourself that way, kid," he chuckled. "50 bucks." The smile on Colin face quickly changed into an unhappy smirk. He barely ever has any money, and when he did, it was usually only coins he found on the street. Even those he would waste on candy bars and soda.

"I don't have that mu-"

"Let me ask you something, Colin. Do you have a dream? A purpose in life?" The old man interrupted.

"How did you know my- nevermind. A dream? No, not really. Unless you count that one about the Grizzly Bear, but I don't think you're talking about those kinds of dreams..."

"I see. Well, you want the TV? It's yours. No charge."

Colin couldn't believe what he was hearing. A free TV?! Anything in his neighborhood wasn't free. He had to earn and pay for everything in his life, plus help to provide for Chica with Máma. And now an old man was giving him free electronics?

"Hold up now, Abuelo. This thing works, right? I mean, I don't want you giving me some piece of trash."

"As good as the day I got it."

Colin eyed him suspiciously. "Alright then. But, why are you just giving it to me?"

The old man smiled. "Son, you'll find out the answer eventually."

"... ok then. I'll be off then." And with that, Colin picked up the TV and walked out the door. Little did he know that this was the start of one of the biggest adventures of his life.