"Hellooooooooooooo, class! I know you were probably expecting a song and dance number, but the writers are under some time constraints. At best you'd get a lukewarm parody of Call Me Maybe, and nobody wants that," Yakko said.

"Anyway, I'm Yakko Warner, but I assume you know that by now. And if I assumed incorrectly, we're in the clear because I'm contractually unable to say what it makes you and me. I could probably get away with implying it, though."

"So, history. You want to know about I, I want to talk about it, and there's plenty more happening all the time. And with that in mind, I want you to look forward to what history you expect to make in the future. That's right, it's your last day of introductions, so let's go space aged with them! Name, class, where do you see yourself in ten years? And let's make this clear, history is weird. Guessing at future history better be even weirder! If at least one of you isn't married to a penguin in these future histories, I'm going to make everyone run laps, I don't care if it's not a gym class! And just to prove that I'm serious, let's take a look at that lap!"

Yakko reached behind his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a scale model of the Lincoln Memorial. "Just look at how big that lap is! So get weird!"

"I'll start! I'm Yakko, and in 10 years, I'll be doing this!" Yakko grabbed his own tail, tied it around his finger, and pulled it up very high, lifting himself up off the ground, curled up into a ball held in the air by that lone hand, and started using himself as a yo-yo.

This blatant disregard for basic laws of physics and common sense went on for a solid forty seconds, as Yakko's balled up body spun toward the ground, then back to the suspended hand, then repeat, repeat, around the world, walk the dog, rock the baby, and finally ending with Yakko landing on his feet with no signs of any damage or dizziness.

"You don't need a demonstration."