(High Flyer is sitting inside of a dark room. Well, it would be dark, if not for the intense brightness of his Nintendo DS lite. Furiously mashing away at buttons, the camera slowly creeped in over his shoulder.)
Flyer: Go away.
(Flyer doesn't look up, as the camera creeped in further.)
Flyer: I said go away.
(Flyer swatted the camera with the back of his hand.)
Flyer: I'm this close to King.
(Flyer peered out of the corner of his eyes for a millisecond, not really giving the camera any attention.)
Flyer: I can't, I can't do this with you watching. It's like ejaculating. You just can't perform in front of strangers.
(Flyer slammed the lid of his ds shut.)
Flyer: Holy crap it's still on. Listen, I'm not going to do an interview for you.
(The camera nodded up and down.)
Flyer: No I'm not.
(Once again, the camera nodded up and down.)
Flyer: Listen, I've got the patience of...
(For a few moments, everything stood still. Until the camera peered in ever so closer.)
Flyer: Ah! Tori Spelling... I know what I must do.
(Flyer stands to his feet and throws a large fish off the wall. You can tell it's a fish by the fishy flop sound it makes as it bounces into the lit hallway. And then what appears to be the sound of a sword unsheathing.)
Flyer: Man. This is heavy. Maybe I can mail the sword to her and then get there just as the package arrives and attack her! Oh, but if I miss judge it, even by an hour she'll just stab me with a sword when I get there... She can sense danger to her species... I should probably carry a sword with me.
(After a few moments, a few candles are lit, and Flyer is taping shut a reasonably sized box. About the size of what would contain parts for an incredibly cheap cabinet.)
Flyer: There. Now I'm ready.
(Flyer reaches over and knocks down a shelf, which had five cats on it. They all landed on their feet, because they're cats. And then he unsheath a sword that would make He-Man cry.)
Flyer: (fast)I know, you're probably here to talk about Troy Douglas, not Tori Spelling, but they're one in the same. They're names both start with t. That's alien code for (slows pace)something. I can't say it. You'll think I'm crazy.(changes pace) Okay. I have this theory. Okay, it's not really a theory.... I PROVED IT. That all people with the first name starting with the letter T are actually alien symbiates stolen from earth and returned with supernatural powers. Like, giving awesome haircuts and orthadontists. Oh no, you all think without alien technology we wouldn't have cell phones. That's not true. We wouldn't have SHAMPOO. I mean, what the hell is it? Is it soap? It's like, special soap for your hair. They should come out with soap for your eyes! I never wash my eyes. I feel they're always so dirty.
Flyer: I know you're wondering whether or not I actually have proof, that all "T" guys are proof. But I tell you this. What was Jesus killed on? Not a cross, but a T! It was the aliens, not the jews! And if religion has taught us anything. Don't question ****.
Flyer: See, this is why I told you to go. I'm sitting here talking jibberish. I know it's jibberish. He knows it's jibberish. Jay Leno even knows it's jibberish. But all I hear in my head is the cha-ching of collecting coins. It'sa Me! High Flyer!... Now go away please.