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Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends? "Why can't we be friends?" by War Weezle, with Tree tight in his grips, is sitting in the middle of a room. The room looks like a guest bedroom, with one bed, a couple dressers, a vanity mirror, and a small fireplace. Weezle is sitting on a wooden chair, rocking back and forth, mumbling something. Weezle is wearing a pair of beige jeans and a suede bomber, even though it is wuite hot and stuffy in the room. He looks like he hasn't slept much in the last three days. Weezle is looking straight ahead at the wall. Slowly, Weezle's mumblings get louder. Now you can hear him chanting 'Why can't we be friends?'. Suddenly the bedroom door swings open, and Ravyn let's OWF cameraman Conor into the room. Weezle stares at Conor and Ravyn with a blank stare. Why can't we be friends? Conor looks at Weezle, trying to figure out what is wrong with him. Well Weeze, I like to think that we are friends. Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends? Conor and Ravyn leave the room and shut the door as Weezle continues chanting. What the hell is wrong with him? I don't know. Ever since Broken, he's been acting real strange. Is he like this all the time? No. Sometimes he's fine. Sometimes he's like a little child. And sometimes he's just crazy. Conor shakes his head, not knowing what to do. He opens the door and gets ready to approach Weezle. By now, Weezle is pacing around the room and chanting so fast and loud he's barely breathing. WHYCAN'TWEBEFRIENDSWHYCAN'TWEBEFRIENDSWHYCAN'TWEBEFRIENDS?!?!?!?! Weezle suddenly stops. He stops chanting, he stops pacing around the room. He just stands there, in the middle of the room with his back turned to Conor, taking deep breaths. He starts talking. He talks very softly, almost inaudible to the camera's microphone. I'll tell you why we can't be friends... Weezle pauses for a moment. He turns to face the camera, and lets loose in a loud, violent tirade. ...BECAUSE YOU'RE IN MY WAY!!! Weezle walks up to Conor and stares straight into the little glass lens of the camera perched on his shoulder. At first, Weezle talks softly, but with each sentence Weezle talks louder and louder. You...are in my way. My way! Get the F**K OUT OF MY WAY!! My way leads to the top. If you aren't gonna get outta the way, then I will KNOCK YOU ASS OUT OF THE WAY!!! Weezle breaks away from the camera and walks in a small circle around the chair. War...War...you got out of the way. That's kinda bad though, cause Tree was looking forward to smashing the ten pound block of cheese on your body that you call a head! Oh well, Tree will still have plenty of opportunity to cause pain. Rob Sanders...Sanders...where've you been? Vaction? Rehabbing? Wherever the hell you were, I hope you're ready to go back! I'm trying to get to the top of the OWF, and you are about to become roadkill on the highway of my success! Tree and Me will take care of you...IN A BAD WAY!! We're gonna try to physically break you down...dismantle you...and send a warning to everyone else that I'm on a warpath. A warpath that ends with the OWF World Title! First though, I want to get the International Title. Ronin...BE READY! I'm coming for you, so prepare yourself for one helluva fight! Weezle walks over to the fireplace in the far corner and grabs a drink off the mantle. Mmmm...orange Kool-Aid. Now, where was I? Ah yes, Mr. Showtime. Mr. Showtime, it will most certainly be showtime when you step in the ring with me. First, you will have to show your face to me, then after the match you will have to take the time to pick splinters out of your face! Boring? Talentless?! We'll see who's boring when when Tree smashes against the back of your skull and sends a chunk of your scalp flying into the crowd! SOUND BORING?! Talentless? Talentless?? I don't take too kindly to people insulting Tree, so I will have to teach you a lesson in manners little boy! I will teach you to respect others, and I will do that by making you bleed! Bleed, bleed, and bleed some more! Maybe then you will learn! Hn-yarh, that'll show you! Weezle, still clutching Tree, jumps onto the bed and curls up into a fetal position. Conor, feeling very uncomfortable, walks up to Weezle. Weeze, are you ok? Weezle looks up at Conor, and jumps out off the bed. Ok? I'm GREAT! This Tracker guy is swell, I think he likes me. I hope he does, cause I like him! MAybe...maybe if I'm nice to him...he'll give me free popsicles! That would be great! I love popsicles! Especisally those orange ones. Purple's good too, and red. Are you sure you're okay? Conor tries to grab Weezle, but Weezle shakes him off and swings Tree at him, missing his face by a few inches. BACK AWAY!! BACK AWAY!! I'm fine! Leave me alone! Weezle, I-- LEAVE! But I jus-- LEAVE NOW! LEAVE NOW!!! Weezle keeps screaming 'LEAVE NOW!!', and no matter what Conor says, Weezle won't calm down. Eventually, Conor gives up and turns off his camera. Fine! I'm going...happy? Yes. Conor leaves the bedroom as Weezle grabs his glass of Kool-Aid. Outside the room, Conor is stopped by Ravyn. What the hell happened in there? I don't know. I have no idea what's wrong with him. Well, thanks for coming by. Look Ravyn, I know this guy, he's supposed to be pretty good with..."stange cases". I didn't want it to come to this, but I don't think there is any other option. Here's his card, give him a call. Ravyn looks at the card. 'Joseph Stressman, Registered Psychiatrist'. Ravyn looks into the bedroom, sees Weezle trying to lick the inside of his empty glass, and tells herself 'It's for your own good.........' |
