I brought these two life-long enemies to the table to discuss their problems. Much like Israel and Palestine, they've been fighting for as long as anyone can remember. However, unlike aforementioned countries, there is some small hope of reconciliation between the two, and that's why I'm here.

Butter!

I contacted Wil through his press agent, then his secretary (both of whom sounded very much like his mom) and offered him this special opportunity to speak with butter on neutral ground. As it was a day of the week, Wil had nothing better to do, and so he agreed. This step completed, I was well on the way to bringing these two bitter enemies together for the first time in years.

Wheaton!

My next obstacle, of course, was convincing the ever elusive butter to meet with Wil. This proved decidedly simple, because as it turns out, I had some butter in my pants pocket.

While unsure how it got there or why it was still solid, I placed butter in a locked briefcase, which I then handcuffed to my wrist. My valuable cargo in tow, I headed to the meeting ground.

A remote and dilapidated shack in the woods seemed to be the perfect place to go, sequestered as it was from all distraction and forms of human contact and Wil's precious strippers. However, not possessing such a shack, I brought both the butter and the Wheaton to a McDonald's restaurant, wherein we were all served Happy Meals by some surly guy named Chris.

A taperecorder fastened to the bottom of the cheap plastic table recorded the proceedings, which I've painfully copied onto here for your enlightenment. I know of many of you have always wondered at the schism 'twixt Wil and butter, and here is the explanation.

Wil: So, butter, I see you're looking well.
Butter: ...
Wil: How's the wife and kids?
Butter: ...
Wil: What do you mean by that, huh?
Butter: ...
Wil: What did you say about my career?
Butter: ...
Wil: No, I didn't hear what you said, that's why I asked you to repeat yourself!
Butter: ...
Wil: Jesus Christ, you're exactly the same. When are you going to grow up?
Butter: ...
Wil: Ha ha, right. I'm the little space boy. Fuck, butter - you're so hilarious! It's a wonder you were never on tv like I was!
Butter: ...
Wil: Star Trek is so not a show for retards! Most of my fans are well above average intelligence!
Butter: ... Wil: "They can't be if they're your fans...bla bla bla", oh butter...give it up! Your jealousy is so goddamned apparent here it's just sad.
Butter: ...
Wil: Yeah, your mom, you little bitch! Oh wait, that's right, you don't have a mom, do you?
Butter: ...
Wil: Hey, are you crying?
Butter: ...
Wil: Oh, butter...jesus...oh, I'm sorry.
Butter: ...
Wil: Look, I take it back, ok?
Butter: ...
Wil: No, really.
Butter: ...
Wil: No, I'm sorry butter. I didn't know you felt that way!
Butter: ...
Wil: Sigh...me too, I guess. All these years. I didn't realize it.
Butter: ...
Wil: No, you're beautiful.
Butter: ...
Wil: *sob* I...I love you, butter.
Butter: ...
Wil: Kiss me!

Thankfully, the tape ends at this point, as Wil and the butter go on to make out passionately for quite some time. The McDonald's worker, Chris, complains about not wanting to clean up after "Wil Wheaton fucking that fucking butter."

While the tape does not make the source of their fight clear, I later learned it was because butter told Wheaton that Wesley Crusher was written like a whiny bastard.

Not having watched the Next Generation, I cannot confirm nor deny this.

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