[Chris races into the frame, obviously angry and upset; he begins speaking quietly, but gradually gets louder]
This does not even deserve a Captain's Log introduction... [dramatic glasses removal] because this is dead serious! The inside and outside tour I did A FEW MONTHS ago of my house, everyone on the Internet...
[Chris jumps up and suddenly begins to scream and yell in a fit of childish rage, flapping his arms as he puts louder emphasis on certain words, sounding somewhat similar to Gilbert Gottfried]
MY MOTHER AND MY FATHER ARE
ANGRY AT ME! They're BLAMING it at me! IT'S my fault,
I ADMIT IT!
it's my fault! I WANT everything a-
BOUT MY HOUSE OFF! THE! INNERNET!
[Chris starts gesticulating ridiculously] I'll send in detectives! I'll send in police! I'll send in EVERYTHING IN MY
POWER!
Chris: Just get it OFF the internet...
Bob: Listen-to-me! [muffled by Chris's "OFF THE INTERNET!"] Listen to me.
Chris: [his expression changes rapidly and slowly turns to face Bob] Yes...
Bob: Listen to ME.
Chris: Yes.
Bob: Shut that goddamn thing off!
[Chris sighs and turns off his TV, unaware or indifferent to the fact that his camera is still recording the conversation. Bob walks over to him]
Bob: I don't care what you do. [pointing at PSEye] You get all that stuff off of there. Tonight.
Chris: I'm working on it. [slaps hands to his side]
Bob: Go work on it! [points to the door, instructing Chris to go to the computer downstairs]
Chris: I am workin-
Bob: Do you realize...? Do you realize something? Let me tell you: If the Health Department of Greene County... sees those videos... that you put on the damn Internet... they could condemn our house, and we would have to move out of it...?
Chris: [sighs] I see.
Bob: You go get that [nervously laughs when saying the next few words] goddamn stuff off of there and fast!
Chris: I'm working on it! I was making a YouTube vi—uh, a vid-dya for YouTube t-tellin' ev'rybody, "get the images off of the Internet". Y'know it's not...
Bob: No...
Chris: Its—It's, ahh, out of my control [flails arms]
Bob: No, you get 'em off.
Chris: It's out of my control! I don't know where to go! I DUNNO KNOW WHERE TA GO-
Bob: You loaded them up there, you unload 'em!
Chris: I'm working on it!
Bob: Go do it!
Chris: I AM WORK'- I AM DOIN' IT... I'M STARTIN'...
Bob: Get in here and do it!
Chris: I- [sputters]
Bob: [walks out of the room] I'll be up all night with you if I have to. You won't get any sleep until that stuff's off.
Chris: I'm working on it!
Bob: [from outside] Get in there and start!
Chris: I'M WOR-KIN' ON IT! LET ME DO THAT STUPID VIDEO SO I CAN TELL E'RRYBODY, IN MY COMMAND, TO GET EVERYTHIN'- HELP ME GET EVERYTHIN' OFF THE INTERNET-
Bob: [interrupting] Listen!
Chris: -about our house!
Bob: I don't wanna get kicked outta my house. By the Health Department. And what you just did was stick a knife in our back, and kill us! [Bob exits the room again]
Chris: Aw'right... lemme just...
Bob: Get that stuff offa there...
Chris: I'M WORK-
Bob: ...and get it offa there fast!
Chris: I'm workin on it! I'm WORKIN on it! [Chris turns his TV back on]
So yeah, please, get everything off the Internet...
Now, NOW, NOW, NOW, NOW, NOOOOW!
[Chris stomps the ground as he yells like a 5 year old throwing a tantrum, the camera noticeably shakes; he then quickly calms down, then holds up the peace sign]
