Oh boy...i really have to explain myself for this one. So, this story was already written by my IRL friend Fuyo no sensi. Well, i didn't just copy and paste her story here, i'm doing my own version with a few minor scenes kept in. You see, she hasn't been able to update the story because she's never had time to rewatch the episodes and she's currently focusing on another OTGW fic she's writing, so she asked me to do it. The idea and the credit goes to her and seriously recommend you read her stuff.
"Tambourine, Leg-Face McCullen, Artichoke, Pengu-WOAH!" Greg yelped as he lost his balance on the large tree root that him and Wirt had been walking upon. "Greg!" His older brother cried. Wirt tried to catch him before it'd be too late, but Greg was seen lying on the mattresses below flat on his face.
"I'm okay!"
"But i think the very worst name for this frog is-"
"Wait! Wait a second."
Wirt's arm reached out to halt his brother, but he was too forceful and accidentally slapped Greg.
"Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! You okay, Greg?"
Greg rubbed a part of his forehead for a few seconds, but responded with a reassuring thumbs up.
"Though i am lost, my wounded heart...my wounded heart...oh dear."
"Cut! Wirt! Did you forget the poetry?" Screamed the director.
The elder brother stood there sheepishly and felt very stupid. "Maybe..."
The director slowly placed his face into the palm of his hand and groaned.
Wirt and Greg's heads perked up as they heard the sounds of an axe slicing it's way through a tree. Both of them scurried over to a nearby tree and Wirt peeked out from behind it. "Do you think it's some deranged lunatic waiting out there with an- AH! Bleh!"
Greg fell onto his back and laughed as he watched his brother flubbed his line. "You know for someone with a way of words, you sure mess up on them a lot."
A man came into the set with a strange piece of plastic that was big, green, and had an odd shape. They placed it onto the branch of one of he fake trees. "Okay, Greg." The director said as he pointed to the weird object. "You need to look directly at this every time we tell you to. It's to give off an illusion that the bird is really there."
Greg titled his head in confusion. "That's one ugly bird."
At that moment, Wirt walked back onto the set after he took a break. "Um, Mr. Director, sir. I'm ready."
Before anyone could say anything else, the director lowered his head as his body started to shake. Was he laughing?
"Uh, are you okay?" Wirt asked. The director said nothing and covered his mouth. It didn't take long for Greg to start giggling quietly under his breath. "Your hat is funny, Wirt!"
"Huh? My hat?"
He took his hat from his head and looked at it firmly. Someone had taken a black marker and wrote "DUNCE" across it. "Beatrice!" Wirt growled.
Beatrice came out from hiding with a giant smirk. "That's what you get for messing up your lines."
"Calm down mister! Wh-whatever you do here is your business! We just want to go home with all of our arms and legs attached!"
"These woods are no place for children. Don't you know..."
The Woodsman was cut off by fits of coughing. "I'm sorry...I've just never really raised my voice like that in a long time."
Greg walked up to him and gently padded him on the back as he pulled out a piece of candy. "Don't feel bad, Mr. Woodsman, here take some." The old man's eyes softened. "Thank you."
As The Woodsman left his house, the two brothers stood there in silence not knowing how to react to anything. "Huh. I guess we could just leave...but, uh..i don't know."
The younger brother walked over to the left and picked up a piece of wood.
"Greg!"
"What?" He replied. He softly tossed the plank into the air and then swung it around without any reason. Greg swung it a few more times, but he ended up swinging too fast as it slipped from his hands and was tossed forward and hit Wirt swiftly in the gut. He placed his arms around his stomach underneath his cloak and wheezed before dropping onto the floor. "Mr. Director, i think i broke Wirt."
"I don't know, sometime i feel like i'm a boat..."
Wirt pressed his head onto the bed he we laying on, trying to remember his poetry. "God damn it!"
"Hey! Not in front of your little brother!" The director screeched.
"Nah, it's okay! He swears in front of me a lot, but i don't repeat any of it." Immediately, everyone in the studio, even the cameramen, looked at Wirt with disproving stairs. He smiled nervously and blushed.
