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 ||As the scene fades in, a variety of classy, expensive furniture can be seen inside a well-decorated office. Inside this lush office, behind a large mahogany desk, sits Brendan's assistant. Weezle. Looking slightly out of place, as his sharp suit contrasts with the scars from the stitches that were used put his face back together, Weezle busily types away at a laptop computer on his large desk.|| ||Weezle stops typing for a moment, leans in closer to the screen, backs away, and reaches for the phone on his desk. After punching in some numbers on the keypad, Weezle waits for an answer.|| Good afternoon, Howell Publications. Yea hi. This is Michael Dean from the LCW, calling on behalf of Brendan Campbell. Can I speak to Mark Bradley? Just a moment please. ||As Weezle is put on hold, he has to put up with the offensively non-offensive elevator music. Just as the frustration can start to be seen on Weezle's face, he perks up as the music halts.|| Mark Bradley. Hi. This is Michael Dean, for the LCW, calling for Brendan Campbell. I need to talk to you about the rates for your ads. Okay, what seems to be the problem? Well, Mr. Campbell sent out a new contract, and-- Okay, well I'll give Mr. Campbell a call when he gets back to the office. Uh-huh... Or we can settle this now. So-- Well, I'd rather talk to Brendan about this. That's just too damn bad, now isn't it? Sorry... What? You see, Brendan told me to take care of this. So I'm going to take care of this. Now, the new contract, which increases the publicity of your company to LCW viewers, means that there is also a higher charge for your company. Unfortunately, the check that came in this week was for the old amount. ...And? Well, you better send over a check to make up the difference, otherwise we will be canceling all your spots. Whoa whoa... You can't do that. I AM ABOVE THE LAW! What? THE STREETS WILL FLOW WITH THE BLOOD OF THE NON-BELIEVERS!! ...Are you okay? Am I okay? Buddy... Are YOU okay?! Are you sure you're from LCW? Am I sure? Well... Let's see... I'm Weezle, the freakin' Freak! You want to challenge me, name a time and a place. Listen. Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to hang up now, and you can leave a message for Brendan when he wants to talk to me, okay? No, YOU listen! Because if you don't send a check to make up the difference, and send me some nice gift to hold back the urge to hunt you down and turn your face into a mass of ground beef, I will personally see to it that Brendan Campbell goes down to your office, bitchslaps you in the teeth, and then makes sure that your company neeeeever advertises during an LCW program or event... EVER! ||After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Mark finally speaks.|| Alright... I'll talk to accounting and get them to sort things out. Thank you. Pleasure doing business. Have a good day now. ||As both men hang up their phones, trying to get the bitter taste of talking friendly to each other out of their mouths, Weezle continues on with whatever business he was up to on his laptop.|| ||After a couple minutes of typing away, the phone on Weezle's desk rings.|| LCW. Hey Mike. Brendan! How's it going? Everything's going fine. Sort of. Sort of? I just got a call from Howell. Yea, those bastards tried to short-change us! Mike? Yea. There hasn't been a change to the Howell contract. ...What? What has actually happened is that McDowell Advertising has increased the fees LCW pays to get OUR advertising taken care of. ...So what you're saying is... Howell is a little angry right now. ...But I got more money from them. Yes... And that's good... I guess... But there shouldn't have been any change to their contract. ...But... And Mike? Yea? ...How did you get into the offices? Qui? How did you get in there? When did you get your own office? What? I can't hear you. My seceratary is trying to talk to me. SECERATARY?!? Gotta go! Mike! What the he-- ||Click|| ||As Weezle hangs up the phone he sits there for a second.|| Hmmmm.... I think it's time for a power lunch. ||Weezle turns off his laptop, closes it, and after grabbing his nameplate, runs out of the office.|| ||End|| |
