Speedwagon was your friend. You guts hung out frequently. One night, you were chilling at his house, drinking and chatting. He stands to go get some more wine, leaving his bowler hat on the table.

Of course, you became curious and grabbed his hat, examining it closely. Speedwagon returned, his eyes widening, seeing you with his hat. His heart skipping a beat.

"Wait! Don't touch that, you're going to get--"

He's cut off by his hat rustling in your hands. Saw blades spring out of it where the rounded crown should be. The blades nick your finger as you set it down on the table. The blades come to a halt.

"--Hurt... Are your alright?"