A lanky person colored a desaturated magenta pulled up a chair. Its scraping across the floor reverberated; nothing else stood behind or even near him. He made an echoing thump when he slumped into his seat, revealing the messy puncture in his forehead.
"Is it on?" He leaned in and squinted his yellow, buttonlike eyes. "...I think it's on. Okay. My name is Richard and I-" Suddenly he stopped and looked around. "Oh no, where's my notes? I can't start!"
The tape skipped ahead to him holding papers. His eyes stayed glued to them as he spoke.
"My name is Richard and I would like to participate in the tournament. Fill in this part- oh fiddlesticks, I'll just skip that."
He flipped ahead, tossing the discarded notes. "You're probably wondering about the hole up here, right?" He took his gaze off the sheets and pointed to his forehead. "Well, I used to get all sorts of thoughts and it got overwhelming, so I cut a hole to let them out. Life is… quieter now, but-"
Richard froze up, a green ooze dripping from the hole.
"...It's leaking, isn't it? Gosh darn it, hold on-"
The video skipped again, this time to him with duct tape slapped over the hole.
"As I was saying, it's quieter now, but it had a few side effects. All that thinking has to go somewhere so, uh, I'll just show you." He peeled the tape off slightly and, after some straining, morphed into a rock. The chair wobbled before collapsing altogether.
"Oops. But yeah, I can do that now. I, uh, don't know how to end this so I hope you don't mind if I just…"
He returned in a puff of smoke and reached forward.
"...Turn it off."
Tape end.