Jimmy Fallon forced himself out of his bed at the calling of the alarm clock. It was 5:30AM and time to get ready for that day’s interviews. He slowly dragged his exhausted body into the kitchen. After enjoying a king-size bowl of Trix in his boxers and a white shirt, Jimmy retreated to his room to start the tedious process of "getting all cleaned up". He made his way towards the bathroom. Though he saw the same reflection everyday---a tired looking face, complete with bags under the eyes and a five o’clock shadow---, he ever so slightly jumped in surprise. Jimmy took his shower, and once he’d finished, again turned to the mirror. He carefully examined his hair, then reached for the gel. After a few minutes of moving his tresses every which way, none of them looking quite right, he said, "Screw it," and brushed his teeth.

Sporting a pair of jeans, a horrendously wrinkled t-shirt, and dark sunglasses, he walked out the front door of his apartment building. He quickened his pace, when he looked at his watch, discovering that it was already 6:45. A few blocks later, he was opening the door to the lobby of NBC studios. Just then, a young girl of about 14 broke away from her family, ran up to him with her friend, and proceeded to ramble on about how wonderful he was. After a couple of minutes of listening to her incoherent gushing, he managed to decipher that she wanted an autograph. So, he pulled a pen out of his backpack and sloppily signed his name on the Rockefeller Center brochure that she’d given him. He apologized for the appearance of his handwriting, but she obviously didn’t care. In an instant, she’d turned Jimmy around, pulled him up against her, and told him to smile. A flash went off, the girls ran away, and Jimmy was left standing there in confusion. He shrugged it off and continued on into the building.

Once upstairs, he almost went into studio 8h, but laughed and entered 8g. Immediately, he was dragged backstage to wardrobe. He put on the suit that they gave him and walked back down the hall to make-up. One of the many stylists looked at his hair and rolled her eyes. He laughed, but quickly changed his expression to a more serious one, when he realized she wasn’t kidding. As she attempted to commandeer his rebellious hair, he flipped through a magazine that had been lying on the counter. Finally, she told him that his hair was impossible, that he should shave it all off, and left. He sat there in shock, but reached for his lifesaver---gel. He put a glob in his hands and worked it through his hair, ending up with his classic mussed look.

Jimmy was told that he needed to practice what he was going to do. So he walked out onto the stage and sat down. As the cameraman worked on the angles, Jimmy messed with the chair. He got up, moved the chair slightly to the right, then sat back down. One of the producers asked him what he was doing, and he replied, "I don’t know. I’m just bored. I fidget when I’m bored." The producer then remarked that he must get bored when doing Saturday Night Live, because he’s always fidgeting. Jimmy laughed and ruffled his hair. The same producer then gave him the tentative list of questions that Rosie would be asking him. Jimmy agreed to them and was told to go back into his dressing room.

As he was walking down the hall, Regis Philbin emerged from his dressing room. Jimmy’s heart stopped. He wondered if Regis was still upset about the prank Jimmy had pulled back in college. He decided to say, "Hi," and see what happened. Apparently Regis hadn’t forgotten, because he shot a dirty look at Jimmy. Jimmy responded with, "What the hell?!"

Regis mumbled, "Punk ass kid."

This sent Jimmy’s blood pressure through the roof. "I can’t believe you’re still pissed about that. It happened like five years ago!"

"Well, it was a foolish prank. You thought it was so funny, didn’t you? Well, let me tell you something, son. You can’t expect to get through life by telling jokes!"

"What are you talking about, old man?"

"Old?! The audience out there came to see me, not you. Half of them don’t even know who you are!"

"What the hell? Most of the people out there are in their 40’s. I could have sworn that you’re the one who draws in the viewers in the 75+age group!"

"Aw, that’s it, Fallon. Your ass is mine! C’mon, I’ll take you right here, right now!"

"I’m not gonna fight you! It’d be unfair. I’d whoop your ass! And besides, you’d break a hip trying to come after me."

"Why don’t we find out?!"

"NO! Dude, I don’t want to fight you!"

"Oh, are you scared? Do you want your momma!"

"At least my momma can eat solid foods!"

"The more food, the more weight. In fact, yo momma’s so fat that when she backs up she goes beep beep beep!"

"Man, YOUR momma’s teeth are so yellow, I can’t believe it’s not butter!"

At this point, Regis had already removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and was in what appeared to be his "attack mode". Jimmy stood there with his head in his hands, shaking with laughter. Fortunately, it was almost time for the show to start, so Regis was forced to step down. But not before he said, "After the show! Outside, I’ll punch you so hard that your liver will fly out of your ears!"

By this time, Jimmy was rolling on the floor laughing. He managed to get out, "Whatever," between giggles.