Lost footage of longboard legend Robert “Wingnut” Weaver uncovered in WSL’s war against original surfing: “You can’t handle the truth… you want me on those waves!”

“Experience the Glide” Ha!

Dave sits down in the conference room, setting down his just prepared lunch of Beef on Weck and a Sprite Zero on the table as he prepares for his meeting with Erik and Jessi about the upcoming contest at G-Land. Knowing that Erik is already late and expecting that Jessi is going to be busy dealing with the longboarding contest at Manly running today, doing whatever it is the Commish… or whatever her title is does during contests, he’s hoping the meeting will be a short one. After taking a bite of his sandwich, he places it down and opens up his soda, the loud ass aluminum spritz echoing through the room, down the vacated, empty halls. At that moment, Erik walks into the office building.
“Prodie? Is that you?” he calls out in the entryway before closing the door.
“Hhrhrhrgrgsgrf, yeah!” Dave answers, mouth still full from the bite he was hoping to wash down.
Erik walks into conference room wearing flip flops, gray chinos, and a fleece poncho sweater, his face the color of rhubarb stalks and his exposed teeth a polished, sparkly version of the room Mike Teavee got miniaturized in.
“I heard that sound. What’re ya drinking?”
Dave holds up his drink to show Erik.
“Ooh, Sprite Zero!… wait, Sprite? Do you think you’re bla… haha, no,” says Erik, giggling to himself as he trails off.
Dave gives out a confused indecipherable groan/grunt.
“Haha, so, what’re you up to?” Erik grins.
“We’re supposed to be in the middle of a meeting about G-Land.”
“Ohhhh, riiiight. Do you have Jessi on?”
“Does it look like I have my computer with me?”
“Hehe he, No!” Erik begins to plug the HDMI cable into his laptop that he rarely uses. “We should just call Jessi using the conference phone,” he says, pointing to the disconnected phone in the center of the desk.
“We can’t. We got rid of our office phones, remember?”
“Haha right!… by the way, did anybody come by per chance?”
“No? Was someone supposed to come by?” asks Dave, quizzically.
“Don’t worry about it,” Erik says. shutting Dave down with a wave of his hand, as he starts the Skype call to Jessi.
“H…lllorh, g…eyes,” bellows Jessy, who apparently has a bad connection.
“Hey, Jessi, you’re going in and out,” says Dave.
On the screen, Erik and Dave see Jessi grab the computer and start to walk to a new location, carrying the device below her waist, the sound of her yoga pants getting picked up on the microphone. They see her walk up stairs and then she places down the computer.
“Is that bettah?”
“Yes!” yelps Erik.
“Goooord. Exciiited for G-Land. And for Tah-hiti…”
“Definitely. Me, too. By the way, how’s the contest?” asks Dave, genuinely wanting to know.
“Goord, I guess. It’s longboarding, so, I dunno, seems pretty shhtupid.”
“Oh, God, longboarding,” exhales Erik dramatically, the breath from his nostrils causing the papers on the table to rustle.
“Come on, Erik, you can’t really have a problem with it. I mean, you SUP!” deadpans Dave.
“Haha (imitation gruff, burly voice with an unidentifiable accent) so whatta ya trying to say, Champ?”
Jessi forces herself to laugh audibly through the screen to make sure Erik can hear her.
“I just mean…” starts Dave, who get cut off by pounding on the door and shouting from the other side.
“Iiihs thi-ii-s the WSL?” whines the voice from outside.
Erik runs down the hall on his tip toes as if he’s trying to get closer but pretend if the chance presents itself that no one is there, despite the lights being visibly turned on and passersby having been able to hear the whole time them talking to each other through paper thin walls. He opens the door.
“Oh, hello. What brings you here?” Dave can hear Erik ask, his voice quivering slightly.
“Devon t-told me you wanted to t-talk. You guys need to sort some stuff out,” says the mystery man.
“Let’s go to the conference room,” Erik offers, leading the man down the hall.
Upon his entrance to the room, Dave sees the mystery man to be the one and only Joel Tudor, who walks into the conference room confidently and slowly, as if possessed by a sloth, the cloud of skunk that surrounds him permanently filling up the entire building, the air instantly becoming almost hazy. Pig-Pen in human flesh. Wearing a khaki colored gi top over what look like khaki overalls, Joel sits down at the table, a piece of straw dangling from his mouth, always looking on the precipice of falling out. Jessi let’s out a long, frustrated groan.
“Hey, Joel, what brings you here?” asks Dave, as Erik walks into the room, his nose crinkled while he brushes his teeth.
“He’s heyah to start shit,” interrupts Jessi.
“Whoa there, mama,” starts Joel.
“Don’t call me ‘mama,’ Jo… what’re you wearing a gi for?” Jessi asks heatedly.
“I’ve got Joel Jitsu after this. Gotta roll…”
“Did you just say ‘Joel Jitsu?'” cries Jessi in disbelief.
“Yes.”
“Whatta farkhead. He just wants people to ask about jiu ji…”
“He just does that,” says Dave, who mutes Jessi’s mic, trying to be diplomatic and not make it a bigger deal.
“So what exactly did you want to talk about?” inquires Dave.
“I want you guys to fix shit. And I want my suspension lifted. Do what’s right. Can’t pretend to be woke shit when longboarding doesn’t get promoted or equality with the other Tour…”
“And? You do realize not nearly as many people watch longboarding?” asks Erik. “I mean, are you advocating for longboarding to be protected class?”
“Yes,” offers Joel, not knowing exactly what he’s being asked. After a few moments of silence, it dawns on Joel. “Well…” he starts before trailing off, getting angrier and angrier, wishing instead he had taken this to Instagram rather than in person.
“Shoulda garn with Wingnut…” starts Jessi, who somehow got off mute before being shut back down.
“Lift my suspension and give us more events,” demands Joel.
“Why?” asks Erik.
“Because,” answers Joel.
“Because why?”
“Hey, Joerl, how’s that kid Tosh took out? Still decapitat…” says Jessi, who is again cut off.
“This is bullshit. I’m leaving,” whines Joel as he gets up from his seat, the piece of straw slipping out his mouth and falling on the floor. He picks it back up and puts it back in his mouth.
“Thanks for coming in. Sorry we didn’t get any…” mumbles Dave.
“Shhh,” shushes Erik loudly, holding up his left pointer to his lips while staring directly at Dave.
As Joel gets to the doorway, he turns around.
“Devon said you’d hook me up. Del Mar is fucking far away to drive,” he says to the room, trying to widen his eyes beyond sleepy in an effort to indicate that he’s serious. He looks at them with that signature sad clown, railyard hobo look to no dice.
“Ah, fuck you,” he gumbles as he walks out.
The group hear him trip in the hallway, but don’t do anything until the hear him close the office door.
“Finally,” sighs Erik.
“That fuckhead,” grunts Jessi, unmuted again.
Dave shakes his head. “So, G-Land?”

she prolly has