(Fade In. High Flyer stands in front of a CSWA backdrop, much like Cameron Cruise did. He seems a bit out of place, looking away from the camera as it rolls.)
Flyer: I'm having second thoughts on this whole stand here and interview thing. Can I get some sort of play stage or something? I can act out Macbeth with Care Bears.
(No response, and so, Flyer just sighs and turns toward the camera to speak.)
Flyer: Cameron Cruise. No, I haven't wrestled a guy with his mouth sown shut. But I have had my hair burned off by a C4 blast in the context of a title defense. I've wrestled in a bowl full of cats for some reason. I've outlasted forty men on top of a SCAFFLE to get a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship, only to trade it in to get my hands on my best friend and beat some sense into him. I've had my face singed by Craig Miles, I've been a trusted partner for Deacon on numerous occassions, and I beat Eli Flair on the biggest day of the 2004 calender year, Cyberslam, to win, at then, HIS United States title. So, No Cameron, I haven't wrestled a man with sown lips in the confines of an I Quit match, but I wouldn’t be scared to, and I’d have a strategy. I'd cause him so much pain, so much anquish, so much bloodshed, that eventually, his own screams would rip open his stitches, and the only words he'd ever wanted to say in his whole life, "I Quit," would no doubt be uttered.
Flyer: How's that for terrorfying? Does it send a chill down your spine like a Dorney Park Rollar Coaster advertisement? I thought so. Regardless, I don’t really have a transition here, so I’m just going to start stabbing around blindly, and bring up the fact that you refer to me as an Independent wrestler. Lemme just say this and move on.
(Flyer counts on his fingers as he speaks.)
Flyer: IWO… global. fWo, global. jOlt, National at least. Farmer Big Red’s Barn… well, I guess you couldn’t say that was global. I mean, you’ve been there. They pay you in beer for some reason. It’s like they’re giving you money, but forcing you to spend it on alcohol. That’s just odd to me.
(Flyer shakes his head to snap out of his tangent. He reaches into his pocket and proceeds to take out a folded piece of paper. It’s a colored drawing of the Mona Lisa, shabbily done.)
Flyer: You know, you can see how nervous I am. My hands are shaking so much that I couldn’t even stay in the lines.
(A close up of the picture reveals that there’s a big red X over the Mona Lisa’s head, and all of the colors are just done randomly, with no adhearance to line structures. Red bleeds from the upper left corner all the way into her right eye, before abruptly turning to a bright baby blue.)
Flyer: It’s got this… quality, that I really like. It seems disjointed just looking at it. This is art. This should be in the CSWA exhibit, the CSWA hall of fame. And it will be one day, right next to the image of me defeating the four men I have to defeat in order to be proclaimed Champion. And I know that means, to get to number 2, I have to get past you Cruise. So don’t think of this as me putting my gameplan on cruise control, because the only reality check you’re going to cash is going to be paying for your hospital visit.
Flyer: Wait a second, he didn’t mean an actual check, did he? He meant it as that phrase “Reality check.” Like… yeah. Man. I totally screwed that up. How come no one tells me anything? Jeffrey? Mark! Mark! Get over here right this instant! Tofu Coffee and Jello Pancakes! Pronto!
Mark(Off Screen): There’s no such thing as tofu coffee.
Flyer: And there won’t be if you aren’t proactive enough to try to invent it! I mean, jeez. Isn’t it obvious?
(Flyer looks dead into the camera, and suddenly his blood red face is just completely chopped out from under him. He almost looks white, pointing toward the camera.)
Flyer: Is that still rolling?
(Not anymore. Fade.)