Madness Prevails Series

Letting The Draft In

“Dude, this is GREAT”, John Cena said, looking around the resort impressively. He and a few of his friends from work: The Hardy Brothers, Randy Orton and his wife, Mickie James, Glen Jacobs, also known as Kane, and Ken Anderson were following him, all also looking around eagerly. But, there was another person with them. And he did NOT look happy.
“Oh come on, Mr. Grumpypants, stop moping”, Jeff said, turning to him and putting his hands on his hips.
Mark Calaway, who was also known as the Undertaker, was looking around with a very distinct scowl on his face. “I can’t BELIEVE I let you people talk me into this”, he growled. “I know these are stupid damned ideas, and yet I let ya talk me into it. WHY do I let ya??’
Jeff bounded up to him, batting his eyelashes at him as he rested his head on his shoulder. “Because you love us?” he asked.
Mark snorted. “Sorry, Hardy, yer not my type”, he said, putting a hand on the younger man’s head and pushing him away.
“Jeff, leave the man alone”, Ken said amusedly. “As for the reason why we talked you into it is the simple fact that you need to finally loosen up and get the stick outta your ass”, he said. At Mark’s look, he shrugged. “It’s true and you know it.”
“Mark, c’mon, you never know, you might ENJOY it”, Mickie said, laughing.
“Yea, man, let the boys run free!!” John said, bumping and grinding a bit.
“A fuckin nudist colony??” Mark growled.
“Yea, Mark, think of the possibilities”, Randy said, hiding a snicker. “You’re a single man now…think of all the babes that’ll be around.”
“I am not gonna be runnin’ around with my ass hangin’ out”, Mark ground out. “I’ll leave that to you people.”
“Sorry man, it don’t work that way”, Glen said cheerfully. “It’s a nudist colony. Clothes Not Allowed.”
Mark growled in response.
“Come on, let’s leave the bear to grump”, Samantha, Randy’s wife said amusedly. She then turned to check in.
Mark was about to protest, but they all just ignored him to check in along with her. “I might as well have a damned sucker for a head”, he thought, grumbling as he checked in behind them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Get a load of that sun!!” Mickie chirped happily, walking out into the rays of the tropical sun. “I can REALLY get an all over tan now!!”
“And that crystal blue water…man, I can’t WAIT to go swimming”, Samantha said, walking next to her. She snuggled against Randy’s side as he came up to her.
“And that nice white sand”, Randy said, looking around.
Glen came up, taking a deep breath. “That tropical air…I can take a deep breath without coughing out exhaust fumes”, he said.
John, Ken, and the Hardy’s came out, to admire the view along with the others.
And none of them had a single stitch on.
“You were right, John”, Mickie said, laughing as she looked around. “It’s so…liberating.”
“Ha, see, I told you”, John said, grinning like a doofus.
Jeff turned, smirking a bit. “C’mon out, Deadman, you could use a REAL tan, instead of that Can-O-Tan crap you secretly spray yourself with”, he said, making the girls giggle, and the other guys snicker.
“No”, came the growled reply.
Jeff rolled his eyes. “Oh ferchrissake, grow a set and get your big dead ass out here”, he said.
“I don’t know him”, Matt muttered as he moved away from him. He loved his brother, but he wasn’t about to let himself get beat the tar out of when he opened his mouth and let something stupid come out.
“Don’t make me hurt you, Hardy”, Mark growled from his hiding spot.
“Ew, I’m SOOO scared”, Jeff taunted. “You don’t even have the juevos to come out of your hiding spot.”
“I’ll git you when you least expect it”, Mark grunted.
“Whatever”, Jeff said, laughing.
“If you don’t get your ass out here, I’m gonna have a damned press conference to tell the world that you’re a chicken shit”, Glen threatened. “I’ll do it, too, don’t think I won’t!!”
“I am NOT goin’ out there bareassed!!” Mark barked.
“Oh, okay”, Glen said mockingly. “I hereby dub you ‘Chicken Shit For Life’. Every time I see you, I’ll be like ‘Hey there, Chicken Shit!!’ or ‘Great match, Chicken Shit’!!”
There was a distinct grumbling from the direction of Mark’s hiding spot, before a hand shot out and grabbed a towel from a cart that was passing by. Mark then came out, securely fastening the towel around his waist.
Unfortunately for him, to his dismay, it didn’t do too much good. On him, it looked like a loin cloth that barely covered the most important bits.
Mickie wolf whistled at him. “Lookin’ fine there, Deadman”, she said playfully.
A rare flush rose on Mark’s cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck, grumbling more.
“Mmm mmm”, Samantha said, sighing and shaking her head. “If I weren’t taken…”
“Hey!!” Randy said, making her giggle.
Mark grudgingly came out and looked up at the sun. “It is nice out”, he rumbled. He followed them, and was too busy looking around to see the one sneaking behind him until it was too late. His towel was yanked off his body, making him instinctively cover himself with his hands, glaring death at the offender.
“I know, I know, I’m a dead man”, John said, grinning as he held up the towel. “But first, you gotta catch me.” He then turned and sprinted off.
‘GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE, CENA!!!!” Mark bellowed, running after him.
The others were laughing too hard, with Glen falling into the sand, holding his middle. Ken and Randy were bent over, their hands on their knees, laughing their asses off, while Mickie and Sammie both tilted their heads in unison, peering unashamedly and interestedly at Mark’s now bare bottom. The Hardy Brothers were too shocked to laugh, gaping at them.
“What do you think?” Samantha asked, looking at Mickie.
“Ten. DEFINITELY”, she replied.
“Damn…why didn’t I think of that??” Jeff said in wonder.
“Because you’re crazy, not stupid?” Matt asked. He then looked at his brother. “Then again…” He laughed, rubbing the back of his head because Jeff had thwapped him.
The guys just laughed harder when a good bit of the girls scrambled for their cameras to take pictures.
When Mark finally caught up with him and got him in a headlock, he didn’t realize that he was standing bareassed in the middle of the beach, and that a good many women were taking their picture. He looked up slowly, and looked around, frozen, as John was grinning goofily at them and waving, even though he was still in the headlock.
“Hey, how’s it goin?” John croaked, waving at the crowd. “I’d give autographs, but I’m sorta stuck…”
Mark heard an odd noise, then felt something cold on his bottom, making him jump and actually yelp, letting John go. He turned around, only to see what had to be a 90 year old woman, grinning toothlessly, holding a can of whipped cream. Where the hell she got it, he never knew.
“Now be still, dearie”, the woman said, waggling her eyebrows at him.
The guys and girls, who had just gotten over their laughter, had started up again, laughing even harder than before.
“Oh, the pain!!” Glen howled, clutching his middle.
Poor Mark was torn on either covering his behind from the old lady, or his front from the cameras that were flashing. ‘Why do I let myself be humiliated like this??’ he thought miserably.
In the end, it was Sammie and Mickie who decided to take pity on him. They both went over, and stood in front of him, their hands on their hips.
“Okay you guys, show’s over, move along”, Mickie said amongst the groan of disappointed females.
“Yea, you heard the lady, hit the bricks!!” Sammie said, pointing her thumb at the beach.
But the women wouldn’t move. They just pushed the two girls out of the way, and crowded around both John and Mark. John was eating up the attention, while Mark looked distinctly uncomfortable.
Sammie and Mickie just gaped at them, then looked at each other. They nodded, and moved off. Nothing happened for a few minutes, before a shout rent the air.
‘HOLY SHIT!!’ a guy yelled.
When everybody turned, they were met with a shocking sight:
Sammie and Mickie were heavily making out.
“I hope Mark takes the hint and hauls ass”, Sammie murmured against Mickie’s lips.
“If he’s smart, he will”, Mickie replied.
Mark, at that moment, proved how smart he was, because while everybody was distracted, he ran back into the hotel.
The two women separated, smiled coyly at the audience and bowed. They went back to the guys, Sammie snuggling up to Randy’s side.
Glen gulped visibly. “GOD that was hot”, he said, gaping.
Randy’s eyes were bugged out of his head as he looked down at his wife, who was now smiling innocently up at him. “Uh…Sammie…” he said, coughing, “Would you ever consider…”
Sammie peeked coyly up at him, gently rubbing his chest. “No”, she said sweetly.
Randy visibly deflated, making Sammie giggle. “Why not?” he pouted.
“Because none of you did a damned thing to help him out over there”, Mickie said, putting her hands on her hips.
“Hey, you guys were ogling too!!” Jeff said, folding his arms.
“That’s different. We looked our fill then went to go help”, Mickie said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “And besides, even if we did, none of you would be invited to watch.”
“Damn”, Matt grumbled.
Mark came back a little bit later, wearing a pair of swim trunks. Rules be damned, his ass was exposed enough before.
“So, Mark”, Glen said, coming up, draping his arm around his shoulder. “How did it feel to let the draft in?”
He got punched in the stomach for his trouble.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Wow, lookit him go”, Mickie said, gaping a few hours later.
Everybody was on the beach, watching the sea.
Mark was on a surfboard…and was doing a pretty damned good job of it.
‘I didn’t think it’d be this easy’, Mark thought as he stood on the board. It was wider than a shaky rope, and he had good balance. Still, he’d thought it’d have been harder than it was. His board tripped up somehow, and he went crashing into the wave. With sure strokes, he managed to grab the board and swim back to shore. He didn’t seem to notice how the girls passing were going googly eyed at the fact that the water was glistening off his now slightly tanned skin. But, unfortunately, he didn’t notice something else either.
He’d lost his trunks in the sea.
The rest of them decided not to say anything. Dammit, they were going to get him to loosen up even if it killed them!!
Mark slung his wet hair out of his face as he came up.
“I didn’t think it’d be that easy”, he said.
“Well, it’s really not, but it really depends on the person”, Sammie said.
Mark was feeling pretty good about himself, but the coolness was just drawn right out of him when a couple walked by, the girl unashamedly gawping at him.
“Hey, why don’t you look at ME like that?” the guy grumped.
“Because his dick is bigger than yours…WAY bigger”, the girl said, trying to get a better look, because they were on their way back into the hotel.
Mark looked down at himself, and jumped, using the surfboard to cover himself. Goddamn, he’d been wondering why his skin had felt particularly drafty!!
“C’mon, man, shake your moneymaker!!” John said, doing a goofy little bump and grind.
Mark growled at him.
Randy rolled his eyes. “You know, you yap and yap and yap about how big and bad and fearless you are, but you’re too much of a pussy to go out in the world the way you were brought into it”, he said. “I can’t take you seriously ever again.”
Mark glared at him for a good long while, before he dropped the board in the sand. He’d show this little pissant who was a pussy!!
For the rest of the vacation, Mark braved it and left his clothes in the hotel room. For as long as he lived, he was never going to figure out just how many women would ‘accidentally’ bump into him, because he’d lost count after the 50th. And that had been on just the second day.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Vince was reading a file in his hands as he walked through the hallways. He’d sent a few of his superstars on vacation, and, against his better judgment, he’d let Jeff Hardy pick the destination. But, then again, he hadn’t heard any complaints when they got back a few days ago, so he guessed it wasn’t a bad one after all.
He kept reading and bumped into somebody, dropping his file. He bent to sweep it up, and looked up to see Mark. “Hey, Mark”, he said.
“Boss”, he said, nodding once before going on his way.
Vince went to look back at his file, then had to do a double take.
His eyes bugged out of his head when Mark’s bare backside met his view as the man went into his locker room. He stood there for a good while, blinking.
Mark…naked??? He shook his head. ‘I think I need a vacation this time’, he said. ‘Maybe I should go find Jeff and find out where they went…’
He then turned and walked away.

Adventures in Babysitting

‘Man, its good to finally be back”, Mark Calaway thought, stepping out of the limousine that Vince had sent for him. He’d received a call that morning from a panicked Vince, begging him for help. Sighing, he stepped into the arena, and went into Vince’s office.
“Hey, Vince”, he said.
Vince was sitting at his desk, typing away on his laptop. “Hey, Mark, it’s good to have you back.”
“It’s good to BE back”, Mark admitted. “But I gotta know…what the fuck has been goin’ ON here since I got injured?”
Vince sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Pandemonium”, he sighed. “With all these suspensions, we’re getting hard pressed to change the storylines so quickly.”
Mark looked at him. “I guess ya called me to git the young’uns in line”, he said.
Vince nodded. “Yea, that’s the basic plan.”
Mark nodded, and dug into his bag, pulling out his longtime friend. His friend that kept the ‘children’ in line.
He held the massive paddle in his hands, feeling its familiar weight. “Turn me in their general direction, and gimme a gentle push.”
Vince threw back his head and laughed. “This is going to be VERY interesting.”
“I feel like a fuckin’ babysitter”, Mark grumbled as he went out, making Vince laugh harder.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Mark walked through the hallways, keeping his paddle hidden for the most part. The first person he came in contact with was Randy Orton.
“Hey, Deadman, what’s up?” Randy asked.
Mark didn’t say a word. He just brought out the paddle, and started to tap it against his hand.
“Uh…n-now Mark…b-be reasonable…” Randy said nervously, eyeing the massive paddle.
“Now you be a good boy and bend over and take this paddlin’ like a man”, Mark said.
Randy gulped. He had two choices: Either let Mark paddle him now, which would be excruciatingly painful, or run, and have Mark catch him to paddle him anyway.
Either way, he was screwed.
Sighing, Randy bent over, and got about fifty good whacks with said paddle.
“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mark asked amusedly.
“Whatever”, Randy muttered, rubbing his sore ass. The worst part was that he had a MATCH later in the night. ‘My ass is gonna be KILLIN’ me’, he thought miserably.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got some more paddlin’ to do. You have a good night”, Mark said, nodding at him and going off.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

And so it went through the night. News of Randy’s paddling spread like wildfire, and there were many in the back who were nervous. Rumors started swirling that he got Masters and Kennedy, too. Said rumors were confirmed when they walked around, rubbing their sore behinds.
Brian Kendrick and Paul London hid in the Divas’ dressing room, scared shit, even though Mark wasn’t looking for them.
“Why can’t you hide in your OWN dressing room??” Beth Phoenix asked exasperatedly.
“Because he can FIND us in there”, Brian replied from behind the changing screen.
“Easy for YOU to talk”, Paul said, hiding in one of the lockers. “He’s not gunnin for YOUR asses with a paddle the size of Rhode Island.”
“Well, it’s not OUR fault that YOU guys were stupid!!” Mickie James said.
“Be that as it may”, Michelle McCool said, smiling amusedly, “I think it’s about time that Mark came back and started beating the tar out of you guys. We need some Law and Order around here.”
“Oh, stuff it”, Brian grumbled, making the other girls laugh.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The night wore on, and more and more people were walking around with sore asses: Copeland, Haas, and even Umaga, to name a few. The ones who KNEW that they were in trouble refused to get caught alone, so they were staying in a tight knit group. If they were together, they thought, it’d be harder for Mark to get to them.
How wrong they were.
In Mark’s mind, it just made his ‘Babysitting’ job a whole lot easier, as he didn’t have to hunt them down one by one. If they were together in a whole group, then it was even better.
So, it was about three quarters of the night that had passed, that saw a huge group of WWE Superstars running for their lives away from a nonchalantly strolling Mark, who still had his paddle in his hand.
“Damned boys don’t know that a good paddlin’s good fer buildin’ character”, Mark grunted amusedly.
“Those poor souls”, Glen said, laughing.
“Hell, my mamma paddled my ass good when I misbehaved. It’s turned me into the well adjusted person you see before you”, Mark said. “Pity none of these boys had the same privilege.”
Glen, goofball as he was, wasn’t stupid enough to get caught into the ‘Needs Babysitting’ group. He was content to just sit back and watch the younger ones get their much needed ‘attitude adjustments’. “You’ll show them the way back to the lit path, won’t you, Deadman?”
Mark grinned evilly. “Hehe.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When the night finally ended, there were at least twenty five people who were walking around with bruised asses: The ones on the list that Vince gave him, a couple that Mark thought needed a good paddling just to keep them in line, and a few…well…just because.
Everyone thought Khali was an idiot just because he didn’t speak English. He was NOT an idiot; therefore he didn’t do anything to piss Mark off. Even though He knew he was bigger than he was, he knew better than to get in his way.
When he was done, he went back to Vince’s office, tapping his trusty paddle in his hand.
“Have fun? Vince asked, laughing.
“Damned right”, Mark said, grinning evilly. “Now, I have one more person I gotta paddle.”
Vince tilted his head. “Who’s that?” he asked.
Mark’s evil grin widened, making Vince’s smile slowly slip from his face in realization…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Dad…why are you walking like that?” Stephanie asked an hour later.
“Shut up”, Vince grumbled, hobbling away.

Ante Up

**Author’s Note: If anyone here has ever seen ‘The Sting’ with Robert Redford, Paul Newman, and Robert Shaw, you’ll recognize this…somewhat. I don’t know, it just popped into my head when Jaden gave me the idea for this one, so…well, Jaden, enjoy!! ^^**

“I’ll see yer hundred, and raise ya two hundred more”, Mark grunted, throwing in two $100 chips. He looked around at the gathering: both Hardy brothers, Ken Anderson, also known as Ken Kennedy, and Steve Williams, also known as Steve Austin. And himself, Mark Calaway, also known as the Undertaker.
Everyone looked at Jeff, who was peering intently at his cards. And looking completely ridiculous doing it. His brows were furrowed, and his tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth.
“Aww, HELL, son, just fuckin put yer damned cards down or fold already!!” Steve snapped, drinking from a beer. As Matt went to take one, Steve thwapped at his hand. “Sorry, son, yer too young to drink.”
Matt scowled. “No, I’m not”, he said, snatching a beer, earning an answering scowl from Steve, and laughter from Jeff, Ken, and Mark.
Jeff finally grinned. “I call”, he said, throwing down the chips.
Mark smirked, and threw down his cards. “Straight”, he said. He chuckled when he stood, going to gather the winnings, but then Jeff spoke.
“Straight FLUSH.” He laid down his cards, and there they were: a seven, eight, nine, ten, and jack, all clubs.
Everyone gaped, but none moreso that Mark as Jeff laughed, gathering his winnings.
Even Matt gaped. “H-how…”
“Trade secret, Mattie”, Jeff said, grinning widely.
Mark was scowling at him. “Yer cheatin’”, Mark grunted. “Only explanation.”
Jeff looked wounded. “You know that I’m not a cheat”, he said.
Ken sighed, as this was his first time actually participating in a bi monthly poker game that the guys had. And, surprisingly, he was holding his own against Mark, the best poker player in the whole WWE.
The game continued, and to everyone’s shock, Ken started really raking in the dough. Much to Mark’s annoyance, and everyone else’s amusement.
“Beginner’s luck”, Mark said, scowling at him.
Ken grinned at him. “Must be”, he said lightly.
The game continued, and everyone else lost their money to either Mark or Ken. Soon, it was just Mark and Ken left at the table.
Mark was getting…perturbed. Nobody bested him in poker before, and it was REALLY getting on his nerves. “All right, enough of this”, he growled, pushing his entire pile of winnings into the middle of the table. “This last hand is for it all. You up to the challenge, Kid?”
Ken raised his eyebrow. “’Kid’”? he asked. He then smirked. “You’re on, Old Timer.”
Mark growled. He then grabbed Jeff by the collar of his shirt, and sat him down next to him. “Yer dealin’”, he said.
Jeff, knowing NOT to get on Mark’s Bad Side, he took the cards, and shuffled them deftly. He then gave them out. Mark was too intent on looking at his cards, so he missed the look that went between Ken, Matt, Jeff, and Steve.
“Three”, Mark said, putting down three cards, and getting his fresh three. He then looked at his hand. He now had four nines.
“Two”, Ken said, smiling slightly, and threw down two cards. When he got his two new cards, he looked at them. In his hand, where there were two threes, there were now four.
“Ladies first”, Mark said mockingly, gesturing for Ken to put his cards down.
“Age before Beauty”, Ken retorted, batting his eyes playfully at him, making the others laugh.
Mark couldn’t help but keep the self-satisfied grin off his face as he put his cards down. “Four nines”, he announced. He sat back, folding his arms and looking smug as one could be.
Ken looked around worriedly for a moment, before grinning widely back, putting his cards down. “Four Jacks.”
Just as Ken said, there were four faces looking out from Ken’s upturned hand.
Mark gaped incredulously at those four faces. “NO FUCKIN’ WAY!!” he roared, pointing at them. “THERE’S NO FUCKIN’ WAY HE JUST BEAT ME!!”
“Oh, ‘Yes Fuckin’ Way”, Matt said, snickering. He continued to snicker as Mark glared at him.
“SHADDAP!!” Mark snapped. He then reached into his wallet, grumbling loudly, to reach for the money. But, he realized soon that his wallet was empty. “I musta left it in my hotel room…”
“Oh for Christ’s Sake!!” Ken yelled, getting up, and taking his own wallet out. “When you come to a game you BRING YOUR MONEY!!” He opened his wallet, showing the money he had in there, waving it under Mark’s nose.
“I JUST GOTTA GO GIT IT FROM MY HOTEL ROOM!!” Mark thundered.
“How do I know you’re not gonna stiff me?!” Ken growled, narrowing his eyes at him.
In the end, it was decided that Steve would make sure that Mark got the money by following him to his hotel room. They returned about a half an hour later with Mark slapping a stack of bills into Ken’s hand. Without another word, he walked off, still grumbling.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Two Hours Later*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Did you SEE the look on his face?!?” Matt howled, clutching his sides because he was laughing so hard.
Matt, Jeff, Steve, and Ken were in Ken’s hotel room, thankfully WELL away from Mark’s.
“Oh, man, I’ve been itching to do that to him for YEARS”, Jeff said, sitting on the floor and leaning his back against the side of the bed.
The guys in the locker room were tired of having Mark’s damned hand in their wallets and taking them for every cent they had every time they played poker. This time, with Ken, the Master Deceiver in their midst, they had decided on some payback.
“I still don’t know how ya got them Jacks”, Steve said, his eyes twinkling amusedly.
“As Jeffy the Jester said”, Ken said, lying back on the bed, grinning, and his hands folded behind his head, “Trade secret.”
“I gave you four threes, didn’t I?” Jeff asked.
Ken nodded. “Yeah, you did.”
“I don’t get that, though”, Jeff said. “How did you get those Jacks?”
“I already told you. Trade secret.” Ken grinned at them all.
“And, the icing on the cake: You flashed HIS OWN MONEY in his face”, Jeff said, snickering.
“Thanks to The Pickpockets, here”, Ken said at Steve’s quizzical look, “They managed to boost his wallet, empty it of every cent in it, and slip it back without him noticing.”
“Genius”, Steve said, clapping Matt on the back, making Matt pitch forward a bit. “Pure genius.”
They spent another half hour hanging out in Ken’s hotel room, then they all went for some much needed rest.
Ken went to bed $50,000 richer that night. A thought that made him grin happily as he slept.
Forever afterward, Mark REFUSED to let Ken play in any poker game that he was participating in.

Extreme Makeover

“God, there they go AGAIN”, Ashley said, rolling her eyes.
Her, Mickie, Maria, Victoria, Candice, and Michelle McCool were crowding around the door to the Diva’s Locker Room. They were all watching Mark Calaway, known as the Undertaker, and Glen Jacobs, known as Kane, were walking down the hallway, deep in conversation about some such thing. Their voices were too low to be heard by the women.
“You know, for two guys who have a pretty wicked sense of humor, you’d think they’d be less GRIM about it”, Candice said thoughtfully.
“I actually like the ‘Tall, Dark and Sexy’ look”, Michelle said, smirking. “If Mark weren’t taken, I’d jump his ass in a heartbeat.”
The girls laughed. As they did, Mickie got a wicked gleam in her eye.
“Oh no, what insanity has struck in your head this time?” Victoria asked amusedly.
Mickie grinned widely. “Why don’t we give them a makeover?” she asked.
The girls gaped at her. The first to respond was Maria.
“Um…I don’t know about that…” she said, twirling a dark lock of hair between her fingers nervously. “Can you IMAGINE what they’d do to us if we tried?”
“That’s half the fun”, Mickie said happily.
“You know…” Michelle said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully, “The idea has merit.”
Candice, Victoria and Ashley looked thoughtful. Even Maria’s eyes furrowed. It was a few moments before they all spoke in unison.
“Let’s do it!!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Mark and Glen were in the cafeteria, sitting and drinking from water bottles, when Maria came up to them.
“Guys, Stephanie wants to see you two for a minute”, Maria said, pulling off her ‘airhead’ act to perfection. It was perfection, because they both bought it.
“Okay”, Mark grunted, drinking the last of his water before tossing the bottle into the garbage can. Glen followed suit, and Maria bounced cheerfully before them, and into a room.
Both men entered the room, and noticed one thing: Stephanie wasn’t there. They were beginning to realize that they’d been lied to, but by then, it was too late.
“FRAG ‘EM!!!!” a female voice shrieked.
They were suddenly pounced on by about five smaller bodies, and, surprisingly, they were overcome, and knocked out.
A few minutes later, they woke, groaning. But, they quickly found that they couldn’t MOVE.
They had been tied to chairs.
“What the fuck is goin’ on??” Mark growled.
“Yea, what the fuck gives?!” Glen yelped, trying to get free.
Upon looking, they noticed the girls. To their growing horror, the girls were all holding make up and hair products.
“It’s time for your makeover”, Mickie chirped cheerfully. She flounced behind Mark, and pointed at Glen. “Roll him into the corner.”
They rolled Glen’s chair to the corner, as they were both tied to those comfy office chairs, and turned him to the room at large. Glen tried to stop them by planting his feet on the floor, but his feet ended up getting tied, too. Glen tried to call for help, but he ended up getting gagged for his trouble. Just to take precautions, Mark was gagged, too.
“Now, there’s NO way I’m going to cut this GORGEOUS hair”, Mickie said, undoing his braid and running her fingers through the silky locks. “Ooh, so silky.” She then held a hand out to Candice, who was holding various brushes. “Brush.”
And so it began. Glen was forced to watch helplessly as they styled his hair. Mark growled at them dangerously through his gag, but Mickie and the other girls paid those growls no mind. When Mickie was done with his hair, the girls gathered around him. They were wide eyed, and they ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ over Mickie’s handiwork.
“Now…for the makeup”, Mickie said devilishly.
Mark glared up at her as if to say ‘If you do that, I’m gonna beat the ever luvin fuck outta you, never mind that yer a woman’.
Mickie ignored it. She opened the make up case that Ashley was holding, and plucked a makeup brush from the bag that Maria was holding. Humming cheerfully, she applied makeup to Mark’s face. To Mark’s growing horror, he noticed that she was using the bright, pastel colors.
‘I’ve died, and I’m in hell’, Mark thought desperately. ‘Somehow, I’ve pissed off God SO much that he’s sent me to this eternal damnation!!!’
When the crowd around Mark finally parted, Glen nearly cried in horror at what they’d done to one of his best friends.
Mark’s once slightly wavy hair was now…permed. With neon green streaks in it. And his face was covered in light pastel makeup. Light green caked his eyelids, and dark green eyeliner around his eyes, and dark green mascara on his eyelashes (although he had to admit, deep down, that it DID bring out Mark’s eyes…) Light pink lipstick was on Mark’s lips, and his cheeks were done in a bright red. A beauty mark punctuated his upper lip.
“Your turn”, Mickie said, turning to him.
No matter how loud he got, nobody outside heard him scream.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

About an hour and a half later, the girls scattered out of the room, laughing their asses off. It was the height of activity behind the scenes, so there were about forty people in that same hallway.
“RUN!!!!” Mickie shrieked.
At first, nobody knew what the hell was going on, but then they saw the reason for their haste.
Mark, perm and pastel makeup and all, barreled out of the room, madder than a raging bull. Glen was behind him, his look mirroring Mark’s.
Glen’s face was also covered in make up, and a beauty mark, but instead of green, blue was around his eyes, and bright red was on his lips, and purple was on his cheeks.
“KILL THAT BITCH!!!!!” Glen roared.
Mark and Glen weren’t interested in the others…yet. Their attention was solely focused on Mickie, who was hauling ass faster than John had when Mark found out that it was him who was stuffing those Speedos into Mark’s bag that time.
Of course, THAT is a different story altogether.
For now, both Mark and Glen were chasing Mickie, who was cackling like a madwoman.
“CATCH ME IF YOU CAN!!!” she yelled.
Eventually, it was a thoroughly amused Randy Orton who caught her, and held her, giving the Brothers of Destruction time to get to them.
“Thanks, Kid”, Mark grunted. He glared at Orton. “NOT. ONE. WORD.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it”, Randy said, hiding snickers.
They passed by many people, the laughter ringing in their ears. Oh, Mickie was going to PAY.
Throughout the entire time they frog marched her into Vince’s office, Glen relaying the whole tale. Mark was too pissed off to talk.
Vince was no help. He sat there, laughing his ass off, so both men dragged Mickie to their dressing room, and tied her up.
“It was just a joke!!” Mickie cried. “It washes out after one shampoo, I swear!!”
“What should we do to ‘er, Glen?” Mark growled, after coming out of the bathroom, thankfully having washed everything out.
“I dunno”, Glen growled back.
Mark thought for a moment, and a sick grin grew on his face.
“I know JUST the thing.”
Mickie just whimpered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Later that night, Mickie was walking through the hallways, looking for all the world that she wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.
There she was, the latest victim of one of Mark’s patented ‘punishments’. Vince had decided that in retaliation, both Mark and Glen would be…IN CHARGE…of Mickie’s hair and make up tonight.
And they had purposely done a HORRIBLE job.
Mascara was clumped on her eyelashes, and she had different colors on every part of her face. Her eyelids were two different colors, as were her cheeks. There was a beauty mark the size a quarter on her upper lip.
But that was NOTHING compared to her hair.
Mark had taken GREAT pleasure in doing her hair. He’d made sure to use two whole cans of hairspray, and spiked her hair out to horrifying proportions.
And she had to go WRESTLE like this.
After the show, and for a good long while afterward, Mickie didn’t dare even LOOK at a brush, or makeup.

I’m Too Sexy

**Author’s Note: Madness Prevails is not just for wrestling. It’s really about ALL madness EVERYWHERE. Which is why I did this one. Hehe. Enjoy!!**

Daniel Radcliffe made his way to his trailer. They’d been filming all day, and not only was he exhausted…he was deliriously exhausted. He’d been acting weird all day: Pointing and laughing at a microphone, telling nonsensical jokes to Rupert and Emma, who could only nod and smile half heartedly at him while he laughed uproariously, and going over to where Tom was getting his hair done, and ran his fingers through it, cooing at how it looked as if spun sunshine was on his head. When David, the director, got wind of it, he ordered Daniel to go get some rest.
So here he was now, standing in the middle of his trailer, too tired to even go to bed. Instead, he got undressed down to his boxer shorts with ‘Potters Do It Better’ emblazoned across the seat of them (a gag gift from Rupert), and turned on the radio while he went into the shower. It didn’t take him long, so about ten minutes later, he came back out of the bathroom, a towel slung around his hips. A song came on the radio, making him freeze. He listened to the first strains of it, and grinned deliriously. Grabbing up a brush, he started to strut about his trailer, and started to sing.

‘I’m Too Sexy’ by Right Said Fred
**Author’s Note: Of course, for this one, the lyrics will be changed up a bit. Thank you.**

I’m too sexy for my love, too sexy for my love, love’s going to leave me!!

I’m too sexy for my robes, too sexy for my robes,
So sexy it hurts!!
And I’m too sexy for Hogwarts, too sexy for Hogwarts,
Britain and Quidditch!!

And I’m too sexy for The Burrow, too sexy for The Burrow
No way I’m goin’ De-Gnoming!!

I’m a wizard, you know what I mean
And I do my little flick with my wand hand
Yea, with my wand hand, with my wand hand,
I do my little flick with my wand hand!!

I’m too sexy for my scar, too sexy for my scar,
Too sexy by far!!
I’m too sexy for Herm’s cat, too sexy for Herm’s cat,
What d’you think about that?!

I’m a wizard, you know what I mean
I do my little flick with my wand hand
Yea with my wand hand, oh with my wand hand
I shake my little tush as I flick it!!


As Daniel continued to dance and strut about in his trailer, Emma, Rupert, and Tom had decided at that moment to come and see how he was doing. When they got there, they almost keeled over in shock. There was their friend…their usually pretty straight-laced friend, wearing only a towel, dancing and strutting around in his trailer to…’I’m Too Sexy’.


I’m too sexy for my…too sexy for my…too sexy for my…

‘Cause I’m a wizard, you know what I mean
And I do my little flick with my wand hand
Yea with my wand hand, with my wand hand,
I shake my little tush as I flick it!!

I’m too sexy for Herm’s cat, too sexy for Herm’s cat
Poor pussy…Poor pussy cat!!
I’m too sexy for my love, too sexy for my love, love’s going to leave me!!

And I’m too sexy for this song!!


While all this was going on, Emma had taken out her video phone and was filming this, stifling her giggles in her sleeve. Meanwhile, both Tom and Rupert were gaping; Tom in astonishment, and Rupert in abject horror.
“It’s turned him nutters”, Tom breathed incredulously.
“I think it’s pretty funny”, Emma giggled, still filming this with her video phone.
“What the bloody fucking hell are we looking at here??” Rupert croaked.
“He must be more tired than any of us thought”, Tom said.
They went back to watching Daniel, who was now air guitaring to Guns ‘N’ Roses.
“Okay, making fun of a goofy song, I can tolerate, but I will NOT stand about and watch him mangle ‘November Rain’”, Emma said, going to the door and knocking on it. As she waited for Daniel to answer it, she hummed cheerfully as she started to email the little video to every single person on the cast and crew. The door finally opened, and there was Daniel, still wearing the towel.
“Oh, hello, Emma”, he said. He let the three of them in.
“Are you getting your rest?” Emma asked sternly.
“Uh…yes, of course I’m getting my rest”, Danny said.
“That’s not what WE saw, mate”, Rupert said, grimacing.
Danny raised his eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Without a word, Emma played the little clip she filmed, and showed it to him, making him grimace.
“Now, you better GET YOUR REST!!” Emma said firmly, taking him by his shoulder and pushing him toward his bed. She rolled her eyes when Daniel’s towel fell off. “Oh for God’s sake!!” She bent and grabbed the towel, thrusting it into Daniel’s hand. “Get bloody dressed, you!!”
“Yes, MUM”, Daniel grumbled, slinking off obediently.
“Children”, Emma groaned playfully. “I’m surrounded by children!!”
Both Tom and Rupert started laughing.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

For weeks afterwards, Daniel could not live that clip down no matter how much he tried. Someone even went as far as to print a picture of him in the towel, and put it on a shirt with a caption that read ‘I’m Too Sexy’. If magic were real, he’d have hexed Tom’s bloody balls off.
‘Payback will be mine’, Daniel thought broodingly. ‘Oh yes. Payback WILL be mine.’
To make sure such a humiliating thing never happened again, Daniel slept on every day off.

Kane’s Horrible Day…Or Is It?

Kane blinked at the paper in his hand, then looked up at the person who handed it to him. He looked back down at the paper, then back at the person. There was a few good minutes of this until he spoke.
“This is a joke, right?” Kane grunted.
“Nope”, Jillian Hall said brightly, twirling a strand of bleach blonde hair between her fingers. “Don’t worry, Kane, I’ll share the spotlight with you. I’m not THAT greedy, after all.”
Kane just blinked at her, his face a stone mask.
“I know, I know, you’re just SO thrilled at the idea that you’re speechless”, Jillian chirped, completely oblivious to Kane’s silence. Silence, which everyone else knew, WASN’T a good thing. “If you want, I can even sing for you…”
Before Jillian could open her mouth, Kane’s massive hand slapped over it. “Don’t. Even. THINK. About. It”, Kane growled.
Jillian blinked at him in shock. She continued to blink at him even though Kane had dropped his hand. She stared for a few minutes, before nodding in understanding. “Oh, I see now”, she said, thwapping herself in the head. “You want to wait until AFTER the show so you can get a…PRIVATE…concert.” With the last sentence, she started walking up to him, while he started to back away. Eventually, his back was against the lockers, while she was pressed up against his front.
Kane scowled down at her. “Your mammary glands don’t impress me”, he growled, firmly putting his hand on her shoulder and pushing her away, forcing her to plop her butt onto the bench.
Jillian blinked. “What’s a mammary gland?” she asked.
Kane’s hand came up, and his face was buried in it. Oh yea. This was going to be SO much fun.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jillian Hall was now his valet. Hadn’t he suffered enough in his life? Why in earth, heaven and hell did God see fit to pair him with this…this…BANSHEE??
“Heya, Kane”, Jillian said, skipping to keep up with his long strides. “Listen, I was wondering whether I should dye my hair red.”
“Shave it”, Kane said, keeping a straight face as she looked up at him in horror.
“S-shave it?” Jillian stammered.
“Yes. Shave it. Bald”, Kane said. He was fighting to keep an amused grin from surfacing on his face.
“Uh…I gotta go”, Jillian mumbled, ducking her head and hurrying off.
“You know…This might just be fun”, Kane said to the person who just wandered up.
“I still don’t know what the hell Vince is thinkin’”, Mark said, peeling the rind off an orange, and popping a piece of the fruit in his mouth. He held it up to Kane. “Want?”
Kane shook his head “Nah.”
Mark continued to eat the orange, looking thoughtfully after Jillian, who was hauling ass faster than she had when Ashley had been chasing her.
“Yeah…a WHOLE lotta fun”, Mark said, chuckling.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Now, Jillian, if I’m gonna be seen going to the ring with you, there are gonna be some changes”, Kane said, folding his massive arms across his equally massive chest.
“L-Like…WHAT changes?” Jillian asked nervously, fingering her hair, not about to forget Kane’s request for her to shave it.
Kane grinned evilly, then held up something, making her eyes widen.
“You’re not serious…” Jillian whimpered.
“VERY serious”, Kane said. “Because there is NO fucking way I’m going to be seen with you…IN PUBLIC…as you are.”
Jillian huffed. “Who are YOU to talk about-“ She snapped her mouth shut at Kane’s glare.
“Good”, Kane nodded, holding the object out to her. “Put it on.”
“Now?!” Jillian yelped. “B-but the show hasn’t started yet…”
“I’m only going to say it one more time: PUT. IT. ON.”
Jillian put on the garment with trembling hands, making Kane smirk at her with satisfaction in his features.
“You look good in it”, Kane said, snickering as she glared at him. “Come on.”
Jillian squeaked in horror.
“If you prefer me to DRAG you out, I can do that too…” Kane said, trailing off.
Without a single word of protest, she followed him out, glaring at him mutinously.
“Oh, and Jillian…” Kane said, his eyes sparkling amusedly.
Jillian glared up at him, raising an eyebrow.
“You don’t want to know what will happen to you if you try to take it off.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jillian couldn’t stand the snickers and the whispers of the people who looked at her, while she wore the thing that Kane had forced her to wear.
“Well, Jillian, that’s a good look for you”, Ashley said amusedly, leaning in the doorway of the Diva Locker Room.
Jillian just glared at her and walked off, Ashley’s laughter ringing in her ears.
Ken Anderson had just come out of the cafeteria, passing Jillian by…then did a double take.
And started laughing his blonde head off.
Jillian, furious, began stomping through the hallways. The loudest laughter she’d heard was John Cena’s.
“DAYUM, Jillian!!” Cena crowed, holding his ribs and leaning back against the wall. “That’s your best look yet!!!”
Shrieking wordlessly, Jillian ran down the hallway and into the women’s bathroom, pushing right by Kane, who was also laughing.
“Was that YOUR idea?”
Kane turned to see Paul Levesque, also known as Triple H.
“Yea, it is”, Kane said amusedly, folding his arms, and leaning on the wall outside the women’s bathroom.
Paul began laughing. “What was the purpose?”
“Maybe if I get her to wear it long enough, she’ll quit”, Kane said, smirking.
“Ahh, I see now”, Paul said, snickering as Jillian came out, wiping away furious tears. He tried to school his features into seriousness, but it was obvious to all that it wasn’t working. “You look great.” He tried very hard to stifle a snicker, but it didn’t work. He ducked his head and walked away.
They could hear his laughter all the way from the other end of the hallway.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The show started, and, incidentally, the first match of the night was Kane’s. He walked down the ramp, with Jillian at his side, looking positively humiliated as the crowd positively HOWLED with delight.
For, you see, Kane had made Jillian wear a gag, complete with red ball and black leather straps with the metal studs.
Every time Jillian went to take it off, Kane would glare dangerously at her, promising all sorts of painful, humiliating, and very nasty retribution if it was even partly unbuckled.
Jillian was forced to stand there, on national television, wearing this gag.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The storyline didn’t last too long…only for about three weeks. Because every time Kane and Jillian were seen together, she’d be wearing that gag. On the last night of the storyline’s run, Kane gave her a VERY serious warning:
“If you even THINK about singing again, I’ll shove that fucking gag down your throat so far that you’ll be shitting it for weeks. Am I perfectly clear??”
Needless to say, Jillian hardly spoke a word after that.

Payback is a Bitch

Ken paced furiously in his living room. He STILL couldn’t believe that he was forced…that’s right, FORCED, to give up his Money in the Bank Title Shot to that no talent, worthless, little fucking QUEER, Adam Copeland. Of course, Ken didn’t think that there was anything WRONG with being gay…it was merely a title he reserved JUST for Adam.
“I’m gonna get that little fucker”, Ken growled, still pacing, rubbing at his once injured elbow. It was healed, thankfully, but the problem was that he’d been drafted to Raw.
He rejected plan after plan out of his mind, each one more ridiculous than the last. He wanted this payback to have a LASTING effect. Something wicked. Something humiliatingly horrible. Something that would last in the annals of the WWE Archives for decades to come.
The television was on, and it showed a clip of Vince. It was during the previous WrestleMania.
As he watched the clip, a slow, sick smirk grew on his face.
“Vince…you are a GENIUS”, he breathed at the television.
With a joyful shout, he pounced on his phone, and dialed.
“What?” a voice grunted into the phone three rings later.
“Mark…It’s Ken”, Ken said.
“Whaddaya want, Kid? Me and my wife are kinda in the middle of somethin’…” Mark growled, sounding very perturbed.
Ken heard a female giggle in the background.
“Hi, Ken!!” he heard Sara yell amusedly from the background.
“Tell her I said ‘hi’”, Ken said. “Listen, I want you to do me a favor…”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Adam sat in the locker room, with the World Title in his hands. He was admiring his reflection in it, fiddling with his hair.
“How do I look?” he asked to the other occupant, making him roll his eyes.
“Like ye always do. Like shit”, Finlay grunted.
Adam scowled. “Think whatever you want”, he said haughtily. “Your opinion is meaningless. Only the opinion of the World Champion matters.”
“Hmph. Ye won’t be so High and Mighty once the Undertaker comes back, that’s for certain”, Finlay said, his Irish accent prominent in his speech.
At the mention of The Undertaker, a flicker of fear was in Adam’s eyes before it was quickly masked. “THAT old goat?” he sneered. “He can’t even find his own ass with both hands half the time.”
He hardly noticed Finlay’s face stretch into an amused smirk, and fold his arms.
“’Old Goat’, eh?” Finlay asked. “And, seein’ as yer the Champion and all that, would ye have the gumption ta say it to ‘is face?”
Adam nodded. “I’d go right up to him and say ‘Mark, your time has past!! It’s time for you to step aside and let your superiors take over!!’” he said arrogantly. Every muscle in his body froze when he heard a voice behind him.
“Is THAT right…BOY??” the deep, dark voice of Mark Calaway said.
Adam didn’t turn around. All he did was reach behind him, to make sure that he was really there. And, true to his belief, he felt a body standing behind him. His hand felt around, and, satisfied that Mark was indeed standing there, a look of ‘Aww, FUCK’ came over his face. He turned and faced the man in question.
“Uh…h-h-h-hey, Mark!!” Adam said, trying hard to be cheerful, but there was too much fear and nervousness in his voice for him to pull it off.
“If yer finished feelin’ up the ‘Old Goat’”, Mark sneered down at him, making the smaller man gulp, “I gotta talk to ya.” He grabbed Adam by the collar, and dragged him from the locker room.
Both men distinctly heard Finlay’s laughter behind them.
“Uh…Mark…where are we going?” Adam asked nervously.
Mark didn’t say a word. He just kept on going, with Adam following him, until they got to the basement of the arena.
“What the-“ Adam would never finish his question, because he was knocked out from behind. The last vision he saw was Mark grinning evilly at him before his world went black.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A week went by, and Adam STILL didn’t know where he was. He’d been blindfolded, gagged, tied up, and there were earplugs stuck in his ears, so he couldn’t hear anything. All he knew was that he’d been kept somewhere secluded for the past six days, and was now being carried somewhere. By two people. One was carrying his upper body, while someone else was holding his legs. He was carried for about three minutes before he was thrown into a car trunk. Literally THROWN.
‘Fuck…that hurt’, Adam thought, his arm throbbing a bit as it hit the floor of the trunk. He’d been missing for a week. Of course, somebody would be looking for him…right?
‘Right’, a voice said in his head sarcastically. ‘If you were someone else, would YOU go looking for you?’
“I’m screwed”, Adam said to himself.
They drove for about two hours before the car slowed to a stop. He hardly breathed as the occupants of the car got out, and he felt the breeze as the trunk was opened. He felt himself getting hauled up by those two people, and carried again.
He was carried for about ten minutes until he was sat down on something hard. A bench, he realized. He tried to wriggle free, but he only fell on the floor.
It was about two hours later, when he was picked up again, and carried. This time, he was carried for about seven minutes, until he was dumped into a cushy chair. There was a dull roar in his ears from having these things stuck in his ears for so long. Then, all at once, the earplugs were removed.
Then, he realized, that the dull roar wasn’t from having the earplugs in. The dull roar had been a massive crowd.
‘I’m in the middle of the ring!!’ he realized. The blindfold was pulled off, and he blinked at the light that stung his eyes. When his vision finally focused, he gulped at what he saw.
There were two faces staring back at him. One was Mark, who was grinning evilly at him. And the other was none other than Ken Anderson.
His eyes flicked at the both of them, and then at the crowd, which was going absolutely WILD. What was worse…they were on live RAW television.
“Oh look, he’s awake”, Ken said amusedly into a mic.
“Have a good time, there, Sleepin’ Beauty’?” Mark sneered down at him.
“Now, I’d been wracking my brain thinking of a way to get some…payback”, Ken said. “And I was watching some archival footage, and I found JUST the answer. Take a look.”
To Adam’s growing horror, he was watching Vince McMahon. He was getting his head shaved.
“That’s right, Edgey”, Ken said, grinning sadistically.
Adam’s eyes flickered over to Mark, who was holding a shaver in his hand.
“Now, Undertaker, I had originally wanted the honor, but I believe that YOU have precedence”, Ken said, smirking at Mark, whose eyes glinted evilly at the bound man in the chair. He gestured his hand to Adam, who actually had tears in his eyes. “Go ahead and cry, you little bitch. But it won’t do you any good. Undertaker…have at him!!”
Mark descended, and on live television, Adam’s head was shaved bald. But Mark didn’t stop there. He shaved his eyebrows off, too. After everything, he was released, and when he was freed, he sprinted up the ring, covering his bare scalp in mortification.
When he got to the back, he ran as fast as he could out of the arena.
Ken had gotten the right idea in shaving Adam’s head. Because that one Raw segment was the most requested Raw segment in a decade.
How’s THAT for humiliating?

Prozac Nation

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me”, Mark growled, eyeing the tiny doctor who was cowering in the corner.
“Y-your boss w-wanted me t-to inv-vestigate w-why you h-have all these m-mood swings”, Dr. Greene stammered pathetically. Why he’d agreed to take this patient, he’d never know. He held out a piece of paper with a heavily trembling hand.
Mark grabbed it, and read it, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. “PROZAC?!?” he roared.
“It’s just a trial period…” Dr. Greene whimpered.
“I DON’T FUCKIN’ CARE!!!” Mark thundered, standing over the man. “I DON’T NEED FUCKIN PROZAC!!! GIVE THAT SHIT TO SOMEBODY WHO REALLY FUCKIN NEEDS IT!!!”
Dr. Green gulped. “I have directions from your boss…”
“TO HELL WITH WHAT MY BOSS SAYS!! I DON’T NEED NO FUCKIN’ PROZAC!!!!” The pissed off wrestler didn’t give the doctor a chance to respond. He had torn out of the trainer’s room, in search of said boss. With a snarl, he slammed into Vince’s office, and went right up to the man, grabbing him by the collar, and lifting him up. “WHAT IS THIS BULLSHIT ABOUT PROZAC?!?!”
“N-now wait a minute, Deadman”, Vince stammered, “Your mood swings have gotten out of hand…”
The people walking about outside Vince’s room were treated by said Chairman flying through the wall. Upon peering into the hole, they saw an irate Deadman glaring at him. They quickly backed away as he stalked to the hole and stepped through it. He grabbed the man by the collar, and dragged him to the trainer. Once there, he dropped him unceremoniously on the floor.
“Now”, Mark said calmly, as if he’d not just thrown a man through the wall. “Tell the doc to withdraw the prescription.”
“Prescription?” Vince asked, blinking at him.
“I prescribed Prozac”, Dr. Greene said lamely, making Mark glare at him.
Vince blinked at the man, then looked at Mark. “You know, I think Dr. Greene is right…”
At that moment, one John Cena waltzed into the room, whistling.
“Didja tell him, boss man?” he asked, chuckling at Vince.
“Uh…well…” Vince stammered.
Mark whirled on the younger man. “All this was YOUR idea?!?” he growled.
John shrugged off his glare. “It was a joint effort, really”, he said. “We got tired of you acting like you’re going through your fuckin’ period. Or menopause, or whatever girlie thing that is.”
Mark began to stalk toward him, cracking his knuckles. “Is THAT right?” he said, his voice softly dangerous.
“Yep”, John said, grinning. “See, this is exactly what we mean. One minute, you act as if nothing’s bugging you, then the next minute, we find somebody who got the shit beat out of ‘em.”
Mark snarled, and lunged, but John dodged him, wagging his finger at him. “Nuh uh uh”, he said, laughing as Mark growled. He then dashed out of the room, with the bigger man hot on his heels.
“GET THE FUCK BACK HERE!!” Mark roared as he ran.
“LOOK OUT EVERYBODY!! DEADMAN EXPRESS ON THE LOOSE!!” John yelled, laughing.
“I’M GONNA FUCKIN STRING YOU UP BY YOUR BALLS, CENA!!!” Mark yelled, still running after him.
“Another mood swing, Deadman?” Ken Anderson asked, leaning against a wall, and watching this whole thing amusedly. “What next…hot flashes?”
“How about my foot up your ass??” Mark snarled as he ran by him.
Ken only laughed and went back into his dressing room.
When Mark finally caught John, he strung him up on the rafters by his feet.
Nobody knows when exactly it happened, but they knew it was after he’d gotten to John. When both Vince and Dr. Greene were found, they were both tied to each other, with empty prescription bottles shoved into their mouths.
Through the whole day, he’d been tortured…mainly by prescription bottles that were shoved into his bag.
“IT’S NOT FUCKIN FUNNY”, he roared. “I DO NOT NEED FUCKIN PROZAC!!!!”
“No, you don’t”, Shawn Michaels said sweetly, batting his eyelashes playfully at him. “You need Pamprin.”
When Shawn was seen next, he was found with his head shoved into a toilet.
The next to get on his nerves was Glen.
“Heya, sweetie”, Glen said, laughing, making Mark glare at him. “Still having those mood swings?”
When Glen was found afterward, he was tied, naked, in his dressing room with his own tights.
Even the Divas weren’t safe from Mark’s temper.
“Heya girlie”, Torrie said, threading her arm through his, batting her eyelashes up at him playfully. “Wanna join me in braiding hair? I’m doing Mickie’s….do you want to braid mine?”
John suddenly found that he wasn’t alone, for he now had Torrie for company.
“I didn’t think he’d get THAT mad…” Torrie whimpered.
If it wasn’t one person to piss him off, it was another. He was running out of punishments.
“What the fuck do I do to deserve this shit??” he muttered to himself. “I keep to myself, mostly, unless somebody bugs me. Is it TOO much to ask to be left alone???”
“Talking to yourself?” a voice asked amusedly. “Mood swings and dementia. An interesting combination.”
He looked up, growling, to see Benoit. “Fuck off, Toothless Wonder”, he grunted.
Benoit laughed and walked off, knowing better than to try his patience more than it already had been.
Mark kept on walking, and got to his own dressing room, sitting down, and rubbing his temples. He then felt a pair of small hands start to massage his shoulders.
“My poor baby”, Sara giggled. “Is everybody bugging you?”
Mark only grunted in response.
“Aww”, she said, moving to sit in his lap, and wrap her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. She rested her head on his shoulder.
“So…are you still PMS’ing or what?” she asked innocently.
Mark glared down at her, and causing her to start laughing.
“I guess you are”, she said, bounding out of his lap, and running to the door, and out of it.
He sighed. He didn’t need this shit…he really didn’t. “Maybe TNA is hiring…”, he muttered to himself.
Throughout the rest of the day, he showed anybody who messed with him EXACTLY what happened when they pissed him off. When they found David strapped to the flagpole of the building, upside down, then nobody said a single word about his mood swings again.

Striptease

Mark couldn’t believe this bullshit. First that whole Prozac thing, then the time that Anderson and the young’uns conned him out of his money, then the whole ‘Rocky Horror’ fiasco. Was it too hard to ask to be left alone and to not get dragged into one humiliating situation after another? Was it that difficult to understand to ‘Leave Him The Fuck Alone’??
‘Apparently not’, he thought bitterly, adjusting his tie. In Vince’s Infinite Wisdom, he’d decided that the single men of the WWE would participate in a strip club for charity. Now, he didn’t mind doing things for charity, but a man had to draw the line somewhere for the sake of his dignity.
‘What dignity? Face it, old man, ya ain’t got no dignity left’, he said to himself. No matter how humiliating and degrading the idea, he knew he had no one to blame but himself for actually agreeing to it. ‘Aww, hell…’
“And now, the act you’ve all been waiting for”, Vince crowed, saving his most loyal Superstar for last, “Get your cameras, camera phones, and video recorders ready…”
“FUCK NO!!!!” Mark roared from the back, making everybody laugh. “ IF I SEE ONE CAMERA SNAPPIN OR VIDEO RECORDER FILMIN’, I’M BREAKIN’ THE OWNER’S NECK!!!’
Vince coughed delicately. “Well, this is a public event for charity…”
“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!! NOBODY’S TAKIN ANY PICTURES OF ME, YA HEAR ME?!?”
Vince just grinned. “Put your hands together for Mark Calaway, also known as the Undertaker!!” He stood aside as the curtains opened, revealing Mark’s irate countenance, wearing a tux with the sleeves ripped off, revealing his muscular arms.
“There ain’t no music” Mark grumbled, wanting to kill Vince for humiliating him…again.
“Hey, I can help you out with that!!” John Cena, wearing only a black thong, crowed from the crowd.
“Over my dead fuckin’ body”, Mark snarled at him, unmindful of the people that were now watching.
“Oh come on, man, let loose, live a little, have a little fun”, John said, grinning up at him. He began to do a little dance of his own, humming the Universal Cheesy Stripping Music.
“Da na-na na na-na!! Tss tss-tss, tss tss-tss, tss tss-tss!! Da na-na na na-na!! Tss tss-tss, tss tss-tss, tss tss-tss!!”
Mark scowled. “If I gotta participate in this humiliating fuckin’ display, I’m gonna choose my own damned music, and not some cheesy ass bullshit”, he growled. “Besides, this ain’t my idea of fun. I ain’t you, I like my ass to stay COVERED.”
John grinned. “Hey, might as well give the ladies their money’s worth”, he said. He then began to bump and grind his way into the crowd, getting money shoved into his G-String.
Mark grumbled, looking out at the sea of interested female onlookers. ‘Well, it can always git worse”, he thought. ‘It could be televised.’ He looked around, making sure there were no cameras, relieved that he didn’t find any. He then tilted his head, smirking a little. Why not? It wasn’t every day that one did something like this…like he’d thought, it could be a whole lot worse.
He looked over at the ones controlling the music. “Gimme some Ozzy there, guys.” When Ozzy Osbourne’s ‘No More Tears’ blared through the speakers, his hands very slowly went to his tie, pulling at it slowly, undoing the knot, and pulling the tie from around his neck. He sorta swung it for a few minutes before flinging it out into the crowd, where he was treated to a fight between three women who were trying to grab it. Finally, a brass redhead grabbed it, holding it up as if it were a trophy.
“Touch it and fucking die!!” the woman snarled at the Barbie Doll Blonde who was trying to grab it from her.
This almost made him laugh out loud as the woman adjusted her Ariel t-shirt, grinning proudly as she sat in her front row seat.
He then started to slowly unbutton his shirt. With each button that was undone, the women were in a higher state of frenzy.
“Oh god, I don’t think I can take this”, the full figured woman sitting next to ‘Ariel T-Shirt’ whimpered, holding her hands over her eyes and peeking through her fingers. “First it’s the Way of the Voice…then it’s the Way of the Buttons…I’ll never make it to the Way of the Zipper!!”
“Down, sweetie, down”, ‘Ariel T-Shirt’ crooned soothingly. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m almost dead too.”
“And he’s on the market, too”, Full Figure sighed dreamily.
Mark had now discarded his shirt, revealing his bare chest and arms, twirling it over his head and flinging it out into the crowd again. He folded his arms, raising an eyebrow, smirking at the females out in the crowd, who were now almost swooning.
“Am I gittin’ through to any of ya yet?” Mark rumbled, using his huskiest, darkest, and sexiest voice.
About seven women promptly fainted, Ariel T-Shirt included. Apparently, her friend was prepared, because Full Figure was now waving smelling salts under Ariel T-Shirt’s nose.
“Wake up, woman, he’s getting to the good part!!” she groaned.
“I’mupI’mup”, Ariel T-Shirt mumbled, coming to.
Mark tilted his head, and very slowly reached behind his head to pull out the low ponytail his hair was currently in. He shook his hair loose, hating that damned rubber band because it pulled at his hairs sometimes. He smirked a bit as he put his hands on his hips.
“Now, I know that I gotta be gittin through to somebody here”, he rumbled in that same voice. “What do I have ta do ta git yer attention?” He folded his arms again, stroking his chin. “Hmmmm…I see I’m gonna have to do a little more….persuading.” His hands very slowly went to the waistband of his slacks, fingering the button. Since the two were right in front of him, he noticed them more: Ariel T-Shirt was now currently hyperventilating, while Full Figure was fanning her with a towel.
Ariel T-Shirt got under control, and dug into her purse. She took out a wad of cash, having saved for a long long time for this particular event, and took out a $100 bill, holding it ready.
“Now…I think I’m gonna need some…help”, Mark purred. “Ya see, my hands hurt awful bad fer smashin’ into Batista’s face so many times… Does anybody wanna volunteer?” He was looking out at the crowd, who were now falling all over themselves to get to the front.
Both Ariel T-Shirt and Full Figure got to the front first, however. They turned to the crowd, taking Battle Stance.
“If anybody even thinks about it, I’m breakin’ fingers!!!” Full Figure growled menacingly.
Mark smirked down at the two. “You two look just fine”, he said, crooking a finger at Ariel T-Shirt and Full Figure.
The two climbed up on stage eagerly, Full Figure sticking out her tongue at the masses. She then turned to Mark, grinning devilishly.
“Well, Sir, as much as this would fuel my naughty dreams for years to come, I must decline”, Full Figure said, shoving Ariel T-Shirt forward. “You see…today is my friend Jenessa’s birthday. Consider this my birthday gift to her. She gets to Unwrap the Deadman.”
“Well, Darlin”, he said, turning to Ariel T-Shirt, now labeled Jenessa, holding his arms out, spread eagled. “Happy Birthday.”
At first, Jenessa looked like she was going to faint again. “Sel, I’m going to kill you!!” she hissed.
“You love me, don’t lie”, Full Figure, now dubbed Sel said, smiling serenely.
“Well?” Mark purred. “My slacks ain’t gonna unbutton themselves.”
With a purple face and trembling hands, Jenessa very slowly began to unbutton the button to the slacks, and unzipped the zipper.
“Way of the Zipper!!” Sel cheered.
Jenessa helped the big man push the waistband down at least to his mid thighs.
“Thank you, Darlin’, yer a big help”, Mark purred, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“No problem”, Jenessa squeaked.
“All right, c’mon Dead Girl Walking”, Sel said amusedly, allowing a wobbly kneed Jenessa to lean on her and led her to her seat.
Jenessa stuck her tongue out at her, making her laugh.
“Everybody, give a big hand to the little lady”, he purred a bit, clapping for her.
“You lucky wench!!!” one woman yelled, but cheered anyway.
“Now, where were we….ahh yes”, Mark said, slowly shoving his slacks down his long, lean legs, revealing a pair of skintight, and very snug shorts. They were so snug, that everybody was able to see what religion he was. His male ego couldn’t help but swell a bit as many of the females gaped at his sheer size. ‘Eat yer heart out, Cena’, he thought smugly.
At the end of his performance, the women went absolutely WILD. He hopped down among them, and immediately felt money being shoved down his tight shorts. He made his rounds, and went to the back, counting the money that he’d made, and gaped. There were $50, $100, $500, even $1,000 bills there. A grand total of $95,650 dollars was now in his hands.
“So, man, how much did ya make?” Cena asked, coming out wearing a black robe.
“$95,650”, Mark replied, blinking, putting the money in the collection box.
John gaped. “Fuck, I hardly made half that!!” John whispered in awe.
“I guess ya just don’t got it”, Mark said, smirking.
John laughed. “You looked like you had fun out there”, he said. “Would ya think you’d do it more often?”
“No”, Mark grunted, making John laugh louder.
Mark got dressed in his own clothes, thanking god for jeans, and tied his boots, standing to his full height, pulling down his Harley Davidson t-shirt. He came across a flabbergasted Vince, smirking at him as he passed by.
‘Life is good’, Mark thought to himself as he walked out the back door. He grinned and waved at Jenessa and Sel. Sel waved back, while guiding a purple faced Jenessa’s own hand in a wave.
“I can’t believe that you told him that it was my birthday”, Jenessa grumbled as the big man climbed into his limo and drove away.
“I told you that I’d do it”, Sel said, draping an arm over her friend’s shoulder. “It’s not my fault you didn’t believe me.”
“Blah!!” Jenessa huffed.
Sel laughed. “I’m hungry, let’s go get some food.”
The two women, laughing, walked down the street away from the club.

Let’s Do The Time Warp Again

“For the love of all that’s Holy…PLEASE tell me that you’re not serious!!” Ken Anderson whimpered pitifully.
“I’m very serious”, Vince McMahon said, grinning to his assembled superstars. “I’ve decided that this roster is going to stage a performance of ‘Rocky Horror Picture Show’.”
At this announcement, he saw someone getting up and going for the door. In a flash, Vince was there to stop him.
“Of all the idiotic ideas you’ve gotten in yer head recently, this has got to be one of the MOST idiotic of ‘em all!!” Mark Calaway growled down at him.
“Now Mark, come on, where’s your sense of team spirit?” Vince asked, making Mark glower down at him.
“Don’t fuckin’ gimme that ‘team spirit’ bullshit”, Mark said. “There ain’t NO FUCKIN’ WAY I’m gonna participate in this asinine scheme o’yers.”
“It might be fun”, Vince said, ushering the big man to sit back down. “You’re all great actors, so we’re going to put names into two different tumblers, one for the girls and one for the guys, and see who’s playing who.”
“Put my name into the tumbler, and see what happens to ya”, Mark grunted, making a few others laugh around him.
Vince ignored him, and turned the crank, making the tumbler spin. “Okay, the part of Brad Majors”, he said, stopping the tumbler and opening the little door, “Will be played by…” He reached his hand in, and pulled out a ball. He made a show of opening it, and unfolded the little piece of paper. “Brian Kendrick!!”
Brian blinked, while Paul laughed. “Shut up”, Brian grumbled, making Paul laugh harder.
“The role of Janet Weiss, shall go to…” Vince continued, reaching into the tumbler that held the girls’ names, and opening it, “Maria!!”
Maria gaped, then looked to side to side, pointing to herself, looking wide eyed at Vince. “Me??” she yelped. “I can’t sing!!”
Vince ignored her outburst, and reached into the Male tumbler, and opened it. Grinning widely, he spoke again. “The role of Frank-N-Furter shall go to…” He looked around, and spoke again, this time deliberately. “Mark Calaway.”
“HELL FUCKIN’ NO!!!!” Mark roared, standing up. “I AM NOT PUTTING UP WITH THIS BULLSHIT!!”
“Hey Vince”, Glen called, an amused grin on his face. “Can I be Frank-N-Furter?”
“Sorry, Glen, the role has been cast”, Vince said, both amused and apologetic at the same time. Ignoring Mark’s furious bellows, he reached into the tumbler again. “Ken Anderson as Rocky Horror!!”
“WHAT?!?” Ken croaked. He then eyed Mark. “How the hell am I supposed to carry HIS big ass around?!?”
“Shut the fuck up or I’ll rip yer blond hair outta yer head!!” Mark growled, sitting down. He glared up at Vince mutinously.
“Layla as Magenta”, Vince continued.
Layla shrugged. “What? I LIKE Magenta”, she said at the raised eyebrows of the people around her.
Vince continued to cast the roles: Balls Mahoney as Eddie, William Regal as Dr. Everett Scott, Ric Flair as the Criminologist, Paul London as Riff Raff (which earned much laughter from Kendrick), and Melina as Columbia.
Consensus was that, even though Melina HATED it, that she had the annoying voice for it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Two weeks (and very many embarrassing rehearsals, at least, in Mark’s mind) later, Vince had an announcement.
“Seeing as the rehearsals are going far better than expected”, Vince said, “We’re going to move up the performance date by two weeks.”
Mark STILL couldn’t believe he actually ALLOWED himself to be talked into this shit. His reputation was shot to hell now. Instead of the fear and respect that his presence always gave off, he kept getting all sorts of questions like:
‘Do you prefer silk, or lace?’
‘Do you want a garter belt, or do you just want the thigh highs?’
And, the ever popular:
‘KY or Astroglide?’
He made it his personal mission in life to make Vince’s life a living hell. He would have to think of something so horribly humiliating. And the old man would never know what hit him. But, for now, he was going to have to get through this humiliating ordeal with his sanity intact.
“I never knew you had such a LOVELY singing voice”, Glen said one rehearsal, sitting next to him and putting his head on Mark’s shoulder, batting his eyelashes up at him.
“Fuck off”, Mark growled.
“You wound me”, Glen said, putting a hand over his heart. “Here I was complimenting you, and I get told to ‘fuck off’. Fine, I see how it is now. I’ll remember that for next time.”
Mark just glared at him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Even more time passed, and before anyone knew it, it was time for the first dress rehearsal. The performance was a week away, and Mark just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Not only had he been given his costume…it was given to him in front of EVERYBODY.
“Now, Mark, go try it on and make sure it fits”, Vince said, trying hard to hold in his amusement at Mark’s gloomy face. “And come out so we all can see how it looks.”
Without a word, Mark grabbed the costume, and marched into the bathroom amongst many snickers. A much shuffling and grumbling behind the door, he spoke.
“I am NOT goin’ ANYWHERE outside this bathroom wearin’ this!!” he growled.
“Oh come on, Mark, show everybody how pretty you look!!” Glen yelled, making everybody laugh.
“FUCK YOU!!” Mark roared.
“Now, now, Mark, come on now”, Vince said, trying very had not to laugh. “We just want to know if the costume fits well. How will the costume department know if it needs to be tailored or not?”
With a grumble of ‘I hate you fuckin’ people’, Mark grudgingly emerged from the bathroom. Despite how amusing the situation was, no one DARED laugh. Laughing while he was in the bathroom was one thing…it was another matter entirely to laugh directly into his face. Because, if you did, then you’d end up with your ass kicked.
So there was Mark Calaway, in all his glory, wearing a black corset which glittered silver, a pair of fishnet arm warmers and matching stockings, a pair of glittery platform heels, a pair of black satin panties, a garter belt, and a gaudy pearl necklace. To top off the outfit, Mark had the most thunderously angry expression on his face.
“Do whatever the hell ya want to me, McMahon”, he growled. “Humiliate me, fire me, whatever, but I downright REFUSE to wear that wig.”
“Aww, you look so pretty”, Glen snickered.
“Mark, you HAVE to wear the wig”, Vince said exasperatedly. “It’s part of the CHARACTER.”
“I DON’T GIVE A RAT’S FUCKING TWO TAILED ASS IF IT’S PART OF THE CHARACTER OR NOT!!!!!!” Mark roared.
“You know, you’re the only one who’s been giving me shit about this the entire time”, Vince said angrily, putting his fists on his hips. “My suggestion to you would be to grow the fuck up, and take it like a man.” When he saw Mark whirl around to go back to the bathroom, he called him. “And don’t forget to put on your lipstick.”
That last comment had everybody laughing their asses off.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Despite problems, the performance was a rousing success. Promotions for it were EVERYWHERE, and afterwards, the ones who were performing were hounded by autograph seekers. The one who had the most people around him was Mark. Surprisingly, more women than men were flocked around him. It took him about an hour to get through all the people that wanted to get his autograph, and his hand was killing him.
Sara was waiting for him when he got into the limo.
“I’m so glad that Vince went through with my idea”, she said.
Mark took a moment to digest what she said. Then his head slowly turned to her.
“This…all this humiliation, all this bullshit…was YOUR idea?!” Mark asked.
“Yep”, she replied, nodding sweetly. Her smile slowly disappeared when Mark’s face grew stormy. “N-now, Mark, don’t be mad…”
Mark growled, and when they got to the hotel, he carried her, caveman style, out of said limo and to their hotel room.
When they saw her the next day, she was walking sort of funny, rubbing her butt, muttering something about ‘that goddamned paddle’ when she walked.

Wake Up Calls, and Chocolate Frosting

The phone rang, making the enormous man in the bed groan, and poke his head out from the sheets. He blinked blearily around, looking outside. It was still dark.
‘What the fuck…’ Mark Calaway thought, looking at the phone. He then looked at the clock, which read 4:04. It then flashed 4:05.
Growling, he reached out for the phone receiver, and answered it.
“Somebody better be dead”, he grunted, his voice gruff with sleep.
He was instantly met with an eardrum bursting amount of noise, making him jump, holding the phone away from his ear.
‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARK!!!!’ three voices bellowed.
When the noise was sufficiently ceased, he put the phone to his ear again. “You three assholes couldn’t have waited until a more godly hour ta do that??” Mark growled.
“Aww, but we wanted to wish our bestest buddy in the world a happy birthday”, John Cena said sweetly.
“Yea, it’s not every day somebody hits the big 4-3”, Randy Orton said amusedly.
“Happy Birthday, Daddy, Happy Birthday!!!” Glen Jacobs yelled, laughing.
Mark pinched the bridge of his nose. Oh yea, this was going to be a wonderful day.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hours later, Mark was making his way carefully through the hallways, peeking around corners, making sure that no one was there. He was sweating and panting, wiping said sweat from his brow. He’d been running all damned afternoon, and from the looks of it, it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.
Sometimes, he fucking HATED his birthday.
It started with that wake up call…at four in the goddamned morning from the little shitheads named John Cena and Randy Orton, and the big shithead named Glen Jacobs. Of course, those three were properly…chastised…for their lapse in judgment.
He froze when he heard it.
Running feet.
‘Maybe if I don’t breathe, they won’t find me’, he thought desperately.
But, his luck would abandon him, as a group of people rounded the corner. He paled when he saw about 95% of the WWE Divas were in a huge group. All of them were holding cans of chocolate frosting, and butter knives.
“There he is!! GET HIM!!!!” Mickie James, the mastermind of the entire idea, yelled, pointing at him with the butter knife in her hand.
“Fuck”, Mark muttered, before turning tail and hauling ass as fast as his long legs could take him. Maybe, if he could make it to his dressing room…
The girls were all chasing after him, clamoring for him to ‘be a good birthday cake and get himself frosted’.
“Oh come on, Mark, it’s not that bad!!” Melina laughed as she ran. “You’re delicious enough to get covered in frosting!!”
“Better not let Michelle hear that”, Victoria snickered.
“That hoochie? Girl, please!!” Melina snorted.
Somewhere, in the very back of his mind, where nobody would be privy to, he had a fleeting thought of ‘Why not? It might be fun…’ But he dismissed it, because if he’d agreed to it now, there’s no telling what humiliations the Divas could cook up for him. On the upside, Michelle had gone home for a family event.
‘Good Lord, I don’t want to know what she’d think up…’ he thought, shuddering inwardly.
Now, he could consider himself a pretty experimental guy, but there was no way in HELL that he was going to allow himself to be gang piled by fifteen females. That might be a regular man’s wet dream, but he wasn’t a regular guy.
He managed to run into the area where the fans were. He managed to sneak in, unnoticed, which was a miracle in itself, and crouched down, and pulled to women in front of him.
“Hide me”, he hissed.
The two women blinked and looked at each other, wondering what the hell was going on.
Mark dared not breathe as the Divas ran by, as he covertly got a few other people to crowd around, pretending they all wanted Edge merchandise, convinced they wouldn’t find him here.
“Why would anyone want Edge merchandise??” Maria said, rolling her eyes as the Divas ran by and disappeared around the corner.
Mark sighed, standing to his full height, giving autographs and pictures and the like for helping him hide. When he got to the two women he originally grabbed, his eyes widened a little, and blinked.
“Ariel T-Shirt”, he blurted out.
It was the two women that he’d gotten to the stage to help him strip during the charity event that time.
“Oh…uh…hey”, Jenessa said, her face turning purple. That memory never left her head, no matter how much she tried to concentrate on important things.
“Hey”, Full Figure, Sel, said, waving cheerfully and grinning. “Looks like you owe us two instead of one.” She started to laugh.
“Yea, I guess”, he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
They got autographs, and actually chatted for a little while. Poor Ariel T-Shirt was still so mortified that she didn’t talk much.
“What were they chasing you for?” Jenessa asked, peering up at him curiously.
Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Are ya sure you wanna know?”
Sel nodded enthusiastically. “What, were they trying to like tie you to a chair and ‘reprogram’ you or something? Maybe turn you into a…” Her voice did her best ‘Arnold’ impersonation. “Little Girlie Man?”
Mark couldn’t help it. He threw back his head and started laughing. “Naw, not that”, he said. He stopped laughing after a little bit, and sighed. “Since today’s my birthday, they decided that instead of bakin’ one, that I’d make a better birthday cake. They’ve been chasin’ after me since late this morning with cans of chocolate frostin’.”
Sel looked up at him blankly for a moment, before putting her hands to her temples. She seemed to be straining.
“Ya okay?” Mark asked concernedly, peering at her.
“Must…contain…naughty…thoughts…” Sel strained, making Jenessa giggle.
Mark sighed. “I keep tellin’ people that I ain’t all that much to…look…at…” he trailed off when he saw Jenessa gaping.
“You CAN’T be serious!!” she gaped.
Sel’s head automatically whipped up to look at him with wide eyes. “You’ve GOT to be shitting me!!” she yelped. “You’re like…big, got great eyes, and STREAMLINED and shit!!”
Mark’s face reddened in a rare flush. “Thanks”, he mumbled.
He was about to say more when the Divas rounded the corner again, and made a beeline for him.
“Shit, gotta go!!” Mark said, running as fast as his legs could take him.
Candice stopped, spotting the two girls he was talking to. She recognized them from the Charity Event, and dug into a bag she was carrying and wordlessly handed the two cans of frosting, and butter knives. “Join us”, she said. She then ran off.
Sel and Jenessa looked at each other, and a split second later, they were sprinting off along with the Divas.
“MAKE WAY FOR THE FAT CHICK!!!!!” Sel screeched.
Mark kept running, and looked back once. He saw the two girls with the Divas, and groaned. “Fuck, not you two too!! I thought you were on my side!!”
“Nothing personal, Tall Dark and Sexy”, Sel said, grinning. “But, if you think about it, they do have a point…”
Mark kept running until, to his horror, he met a dead end, and the girls came around the corner. He turned, his back to the wall. “Now, c’mon, ladies, be reasonable…I ain’t a damned pastry…”
“But yummy enough to be considered one!!” Sel crowed from the back, having to jump up and down to be noticed. “Man, what I wouldn’t give to get my hands on that-” She was going to say more, but Jenessa covered her mouth.
“If you say the word ‘strudel’ even ONCE, I’m going to throw you out the window”, Jenessa said.
Sel’s shoulders slumped. Were Jenessa’s hand not covering her mouth, everyone would see an unmistakable pout.
The Divas were all giggling uncontrollably, while Mark face palmed. Mark’s mind worked quickly, and an altogether devilish idea entered his head.
“Okay, I’ll let ya frost me…” he purred. “Under one condition.”
The Divas perked.
He folded his arms. “Only two of ya can.”
They promptly deflated.
“Only two?” Mickie pouted.
Mark nodded. “Only two.”
The Divas began to all clamor and yell amongst themselves on who would ‘get the honors.
“SHADDAP, ALL O’YA!!!!” Mark bellowed.
The Divas promptly fell silent.
“I git to pick the lucky two”, Mark said, smirking.
The Divas all smiled sweetly, and preened as Mark rubbed his chin, slowly stalking a circle around them. Of course, this was all a sort of ‘Birthday Hazing’ thing that the Divas did…they never went too far with it or anything like that. And so, with that in mind, he decided to take the wind out of their sails.
“These two”, he said suddenly, grabbing both Sel and Jenessa by the arm and dragging them next to him.
At first, Sel laughed. “C’mon, seriously, who is it?” She looked up at him and gulped as he stared down at her, his face a stone mask. “Holy shit, you’re serious…I mean really really REAL serious!!”
Mark nodded; slowly and deliberately.
Jenessa sputtered, gaping up at him, having no idea what to say. “F-frosting…Mark….Frosting Mark…” Her eyes rolled in the back of her head, and she promptly fainted.
“Not again”, Sel sighed, catching her before she can hit the floor. She got the smelling salts she carried to every event that she and Jenessa went, just in case, and waved them under her nose. This was the second time she’d ever had to use them.
“Sel…I had the most wonderful dream”, Jenessa groaned happily. “I had a dream that we got chosen to frost Mark like a birthday cake…Mmmmmmmmm…Mark birthday cake…”
“Open your eyes and enjoy it a little longer, J”, Sel said amusedly. “It’s not a dream.”
“WHAT?!?” Jenessa yelped, shooting straight up, looking around, and finally, up at Mark. She then buried her head in her hands, her face purple in mortification. “Oh God…please open the earth and swallow me whole…”
Sel laughed and helped her up. “Girl, come on, it’s a dream come true!! You get to frost the Deadman Birthday Cake!!”
Mark couldn’t help but chuckle deeply.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Everybody in the cafeteria was greeted to a most amusing sight. Mark Calaway was sitting smack dab in the middle of it. He’d removed his shirt, and was now bare from the waist up. The Divas were currently sitting at a table off to his right, while two women who looked vaguely familiar were standing there near him with cans of chocolate frosting and butter knives in their hands.
“What’s going on?” Orton asked, blinking when he walked in.
“Deadman Birthday Cake”, Mickie said, cackling devilishly.
“Uh…Do we really want to know the details?” John asked warily.
Victoria gleefully relayed the ingenious plan, making John gape.
“And you guys never thought to do that for my birthday?? Huh, I feel slighted!!” John huffed.
The Divas began laughing. “Sorry, Johnny Boy”, Maria said, giggling. “This man’s like fine wine: He gets a WHOLE lot better with age. And, sadly, you haven’t aged yet. You’re a baby wine.”
John grumbled, making the Divas laugh more.
“Well”, Mark said amusedly, looking at the two nearest him. “The cake awaits.” He raised his arms, spread eagled.
Jenessa’s hands were trembling wildly as she opened her can of frosting, but that was nothing compared to the rest of her body. She dropped her butter knife three times because her fingers were shaking too much.
Sel was dazed as she had the open can of frosting in one hand, and her butter knife in the other. “I didn’t think you guys were serious serious…I thought this was like a joke…”
Mark raised a lascivious eyebrow at the two of them. “Ya git ta learn that about how we do things around here. It gits a bit…intense”, he purred.
Jenessa promptly dropped her can of frosting. “Fuck”, she muttered, swooping to pick it up.
“We can only wish”, Sel sighed playfully, giggling at the raised eyebrow that Mark sent her. “What? Oh, like no Diva here hasn’t thought of it at least once.”
Then, Mark saw an interesting phenomenon. Every Diva in the room bowed their head, and blushed.
“Ha. See?” Sel said triumphantly.
“Okay”, Jenessa said, having regained her bearings. “Now, is this going to be a ‘Just from the waist up’ thing, or is this a ‘Full Body’ thing?”
At that question, it was Sel’s turn to promptly drop her can of frosting.
“Full…body…” Sel squeaked faintly, sinking into a chair heavily. “God, I don’t think I’d be able to take full body….”
Mark couldn’t help but chuckle. “Would ya prefer it if it were full body?” he purred huskily, waggling his eyebrows playfully.
Now, it was Sel’s turn to faint.
Giggling, Jenessa helped her up and used her own smelling salts to wake her up.
“God, now that was a dream”, Sel sighed happily.
“Nope, not a dream”, Jenessa giggled, helping her to her feet.
Sel looked at Mark, and sighed happily again. “Oh, even better, it’s reality!!”
Many of the ones who were now in the cafeteria were watching with much amusement.
“Well…let the frostin’ begin”, Mark chuckled.
“Wait!!” Sel said. There are to be a few…rules.”
Mark raised an eyebrow.
“Now, this fine art here”, Sel said, gesturing to his tattoos, “It would be a sin to cover them up. So, no covering of the tattoos.” She looked over to Jenessa. “Girl Law?”
Jenessa nodded. “Girl Law.” The two clinked their frosting cans in a toast.
“Well there is one ya can cover…” Mark said, raising an eyebrow.
“Okay, I can understand that”, Sel said, nodding. “So, we cover one tattoo.”
Jenessa nodded again. “Another Girl Law.”
To this, they clinked frosting cans again.
“Ooh, do me next, do me next!!” Cena said, hopping from foot to foot.
“Sorry, sweetie, you gotta wait for your birthday to get frosted”, Melina said, giggling and patting his shoulder.
John pouted.
“I’ll frost you next, sweetie, how’s that?” Jenessa said sweetly, batting her eyelashes playfully at him.
“Hot damn!!” John shouted, bounding into a chair to wait his turn.
“Now now, Jonathan, no squirming in your seat, or no frosting for you”, Jenessa said, waggling her finger at him, making him still.
“Sorry, Cena”, Mark said, smirking at him. He promptly stood, and dropped his jeans, making everybody gape at him, as…well…he wasn’t wearing boxers. “She’s gonna be frostin’ me. They both will.”
Sel promptly buried her head in her hands. “My tender sensibilities…They can’t take it!!!”
Jenessa’s mouth opened and closed, but couldn’t say a single word, squeaking noises coming from her throat. Seriously, what could one say to the fact that a man that she’d been lusting after (a girl can dream, after all) suddenly dropped his pants, and was now bare to the world right in front of her??
Randy promptly shrieked, his hands over his eyes. “My eyeeeeeeeeees!!!!” he shrieked.
“Git outta the kitchen if ya can’t take the heat, Orton”, Mark said amusedly, smirking at him. He then looked to the dumbstruck Sel and Jenessa. “Well? Let’s get it on.”
Sel, having recovered herself, very resolutely not looking at his crotch area, because, let’s face it, she’d drop dead if she looked directly at it, and swiped a dollop of frosting on the butter knife. She pointedly looked up at his face. “Where would you like to start?”
“Anywhere ya want, darlin’”, he murmured amusedly.
Without a single word, Jenessa swiped a dollop, and immediately went for his neck, covering up the faint tattoo, and started working her way down his chest.
And so it began. Both Jenessa and Sel began spreading the frosting on his skin, Sel lending him a hairpiece to keep his hair up and back out of their way. The two, with great relish, started to frost his back, ever mindful to keep the tattoos uncovered.
“Careful”, Mark grunted, jumping a bit, his stomach clenching as they frosted around his BSK Pride tattoo. “I’m…” He coughed. “I’m kinda…”
“’Kinda’ what?” Sel asked, raising an eyebrow.
Mark coughed again. “Kinda…”
Sel blinked at him, starting to smirk. “Jenessa…I think he’s…ticklish.” As an experiment, she prodded at the bare skin where his tattoo was, making him jump. “Oh my God, he is ticklish!!”
Mark growled down at her, making her giggle.
It was an unspoken agreement between the two that neither of them would be able to even look at his crotch without dropping dead, so they gave it a wide berth. They made their way down his muscular legs until they got to his ankles.
So there he was, in all his naked glory, his massive body covered in frosting, only his tattoos, crotch, face and feet unfrosted. The Divas began applauding and cheering and whistling.
Chris Irvine, also known as Chris Jericho, serenely walked up, and held a poster board roughly the size of a small tabletop, and held it in front of Mark’s crotch, the sign reading ‘Censored’.
“Hey, somebody’s gotta pick up the slack while Jeff is gone”, Chris said, shrugging.
Vince, who’d been looking for Mark, walked into the cafeteria. Upon seeing the frosting covered Mark, he stopped, blinked, and turned right around, and walked out. What he had to talk to him about could wait.
Mark turned, looking thoughtful. It felt…different. But…not in a bad way. He turned to the door, his eyes widening at what he saw.
“Momma??” he gasped.
Estelle, who the guys had flown in for his birthday, was gaping at her son. “Marcus…why are ya covered in frosting??” she gaped, her eyes wide.
“Uh…pfft…er…” Mark muttered, his face flushing.
“Well? I’m waiting”, Estelle said, putting her fists on her hips. “I deserve a damned good explanation!!”
“Well, ma’am, it’s like this”, Sel said sheepishly, stepping forward timidly. “Mark here bet that Bing Crosby played the lead in ‘The Court Jester’, and I bet against him. He lost, and…well…you can see the result.”
Estelle gaped at him. “Bing Crosby???” she gasped. “Boy, haven’t I taught ya better than that?!?”
“Yes, Momma”, he mumbled.
Estelle pointed down the hallway. “Now ya march yer chocolate covered behind into a shower and wash all that off!!” she ordered.
Mark began to shuffle away. As he did, Sel started to whimper and mumble, starting to stand and go after him, but Jenessa pulled her back.
“Such a waste”, Sel whimpered. “I thought we were gonna be able to…”
“I know”, Jenessa sniffed playfully.
“A waste, I tell you!! There are children starving in China, dammit!!” Sel grumped.
“Don’t you mean Africa?” John asked.
“Whatever”, Sel grumped, folding her arms.
They dumped the empty frosting canisters, all twelve of them, and went to wash their hands.
“Couldn’t we at least get a PICTURE of us licking a little off?? I’d frame it and everything….” Sel whined. She was cowed, however, when Estelle glared at her.
Mark came back a little while later, freshly showered and dressed, making Sel pout and Jenessa grin sadly.
“Aww, Darlins’, don’t be like that”, he said, coming up to them and patting their heads. “Ya got ta frost me.”
“True”, Sel grumbled.
He went to his mother and pulled up a chair for her, the woman grumbling something that sounded like ‘cesspool’.
“Momma, I lost a bet, it ain’t mass copulatin’”, Mark sighed.
“Don’tcha be backtalkin’ me, boy!!” Estelle said, thwapping the back of his head.
“Yes, Momma”, Mark sighed.
“Such a good boy”, Estelle sighed, patting her son’s knee.
Both Sel and Jenessa looked at each other, raising an eyebrow at each other as if to ask ‘Mark…a momma’s boy?!”
Sel couldn’t help but giggle. It was…cute.
Jenessa, however, just folded her arms. The woman had deprived them of a very happy chocolaty experience, and she was very perturbed by it. “Waste of chocolate”, she grumbled, put out.
“You ain’t kiddin’”, Sel mumbled back, making the Divas around them giggle.
The pyros outside made everybody jump a bit.
“The show’s starting”, Sel sighed, standing up. “We’re gonna go get our seats.”
Everybody waved cheerfully, with Mark winking cheekily at them as they left. Sel laughed, while Jenessa followed her, still mightily perturbed.
“I can’t believe she deprived us”, Jenessa growled as she sat in her seat. “I oughtta…”
Sel patted Jenessa’s hand. “It’s okay, sweetie.” She did the shifty eyes, and leaned to whisper in her ear. “Did you see the size of it?!?!”
Jenessa shuddered happily in remembrance. “Oh yea”, she sighed serenely. “That man is HUNG.”
“My ass is havin’ sweet dreams tonight”, Sel giggled.
The night went on, both women going wild when Taker had his match, and cheering on their other favorites. When the night was over, a security guard came up to them, both with manila envelopes that read ‘Do Not Open Until You Get Home’. Without a word, the guard walked off.
“What’s this?” Jenessa asked.
“I...don’t know”, Sel said, peering at the envelope. They got to their car in the parking lot, until Sel got impatient. “I have to see what’s in it.” She opened the envelope, and pulled out something. Her eyes bugged out of her head, sputtering as she pointed.
Jenessa blinked at her. “What is it?”
Wordlessly, Sel babbled, pointing at what was in her hands.
Jenessa blinked again, and came over, looking at it. She gaped, and tore into her own envelope, and gaped some more.
There was a picture of Mark, covered with the chocolate frosting, the man having a devilish grin on his face. And, the ‘Censored’ sign was blissfully absent.
Meanwhile, Mark was going out to his rental, intent on getting some much needed sleep when he heard it.
“HOLY FUCKING JESUS CHRIST ON A CRUTCH!!!!!”
Mark smirked. ‘They musta looked at the pictures. I owe ya one, Tom’, he thought to himself, chuckling as he climbed into his rental, and drove off.

Takin’ Him to the Woodshed

Estelle was not a happy woman. How could her boy…her baby boy…behave in such a manner?!? She intended to find out what was running through her son’s mind, and she intended to find out NOW.
She got out of the cab, hauling her suitcase out of the trunk. She paid the cab driver, and stormed up to the crowded arena. She stopped at the security checkpoint, and raised an eyebrow.
“Ma’am, do you have a special pass to be back here tonight?” the security guard asked.
“If you don’t lemme through, I’m gonna take a chunk outta yer hide, boy!!” she snapped.
The security guard blinked at her for a few seconds. He immediately saw the family resemblance, and mumbled an apology, red faced, as he let her through.
She went into the back entrance of the arena, and started to stalk through the hallways. She got stares and whispers as she passed, but she didn’t care. She was going to find her son.
After getting directions from a thoroughly amused blonde man with a huge nose, she went directly to the cafeteria, and stood at the door. She took a deep breath, and bellowed.
“MARCUS LUCAS CALAWAY, YOU HAVE SOME EXPLAINING TO DO!!!!”
The entire crowded cafeteria went dead silent, and the man in question widened his eyes in shock.
“Ma, what are ya doin’ here?” Mark asked, standing to his full height and going over to her.
“Never you mind what I’m doing here!!” She snapped. “I fully intend to find out what’s going through your head!!” She reached up and grabbed his ear, yanking it down and twisting, dragging him to a chair. “You are going to find that nice young girl and apologize right this minute!!”
“Ow…Ma…ow, fuck, that hurts…Ma, quit it…” He got thrown in a chair, and his mother thwacked him hard in the back of the head. “OW!!!”
“That’s for saying that word, Marcus!!”
“Ma, calm down and explain to me: What are ya talkin’ about?!”
She didn’t have to start up again, because the young girl in question walked in, the big nosed man’s arm around her shoulder. Estelle went right up to her, and started in on her.
“Oh, dearie, are you all right?! My son didn’t traumatize you too much, did he?? Oh, I’m so sorry, he’s usually such a good boy…”
Mark made a mental note to kill all the assholes who were currently snickering behind his back at the moment. And it was a pretty big list.
“Um…Ma’am…are you feeling all right”, the girl asked delicately.
Estelle waved her off. “I’m fine, dear.” She puffed up in indignation. “Imagine, my son stringing you up to that cross like that!! You must have been scared to death!!”
“Uh…Ma…” Mark coughed.
“Don’t you ‘Uh, Ma’ me, young man!! I may be old, but I’m still young enough to drag you to the woodshed for a damned good hide whuppin!!”
“Where’s J.R. when you need him?” Glen muttered from the corner.
Estelle rounded on him. “What was that?! If yer gonna say somethin’, speak up, son!!”
“Nothin”, Glen muttered, flushing.
Estelle turned back to Mark, and grabbed him by the ear again, dragging him over to where the young girl and the big nosed man were. “Now, I will not let you leave this spot until you apologize right now!!”
“Aw, Hell…” Mark said, grimacing when his mother twisted on his ear again.
“What have I told ya about using that language?!” Estelle barked.
“Not to”, Mark sighed.
“Good”, Estelle said, nodding. “Now, you will apologize right now.”
“Paul. Steph”, he said, nodding to each, coughing a bit.
“Mark”, Stephanie said, trying so hard not to giggle.
“I’m uh…sorry I…uh…strung ya up”, he muttered.
“Apology accepted”, Stephanie said, trying hard to keep her straight face.
Meanwhile, Paul was eating it up. It was not every day that Taker was humbled as he was right now. “Ma’am, he did beat me up an awful lot…”
Estelle narrowed her eyes at her son. “Is this true?!”
“Ma, you don’t understand…” Mark said through gritted teeth.
Paul nodded enthusiastically. “He gave me a big bump on my head, right here!!” he replied, pointing to a spot on his forehead.
“Oh, you poor dear”, Estelle crooned, letting her son’s ear go and guiding him and Stephanie to a seat. “I’ll fix you some hot cocoa.”
Stephanie was giggling into her husband’s chest.
“I hope my son’s apology helps you cope, dearie”, Estelle said.
Stephanie had the good grace to pretend to sniffle. “I’ll heal”, she said, burying her face in her husband’s chest to giggle again.
Just then one Vincent Kennedy McMahon walked in. Upon seeing all the shocked faces, he looked at the source of the shock.
Right then, Mark saw his opportunity. He was tired of getting jerked around on this title thing, so he grinned evilly at Vince from behind his mother’s back. The sweeter part was that Vince would always scoff and tell him that ‘His mother can’t be all THAT bad!!’ So, he decided to prove him wrong.
“Ma, I’m sorry fer doin’ all them things”, Mark said, looking shamefaced. Inwardly though, he was grinning. He wasn’t a master of deception for nothing, after all. “But, if ya want the one responsible for it all, it’s him.” His massive arm lifted, his finger pointing directly at Vince. “He’s the one who told me ta do it all. And since he’s m’boss, I gotta do what he says.”
Estelle, puffed up in great fury, rounded on Vince. “It was YOU who told my son to do all those horrible things?!?” she roared.
“Listen, woman, I don’t know who you are, but I am Vincent Kennedy McMahon, and what I say goes around here”, Vince said, folding his arms.
“From what I’m seein’ right now, yer nothin’ but a great windbag”, Estelle said, folding her own arms. “I seen what ya’ve been doin’, with all them little jailbaits around here…I hope yer wife takes ya for everything ya’ve got!! Besides, I don’t see what she saw in ya in the first place…Heartthrob you are not!!”
Vince, not used to having a woman talk to him this way, deflated, gaping at her.
“I hope she runs off with one of them nice pieces o’tail that are ‘round here…maybe that nice young Cena boy. He’s a real looker.”
Mark buried his face in his palm, groaning. He loved his mother very much, but she could just be so…so…unbearable at times.
Upon seeing the young man in queston, Estelle rolled her eyes, and grabbed the hat off his head, shoving it into his chest. “Take off yer hat when yer inside, boy, have ya got no manners?! And pull yer damned pants up, ya look ridiculous!!”
Cena just gaped at her, sputtering. “Uh…phfff…yes, Ma’am”, he said weakly.
Estelle walked up to her suitcase, and calmly set it on the table, opening it, getting out a rather familiar piece of equipment. She weighed it in her hands, looking at Vince evenly.
“Now, we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way”, Estelle said coolly.
Vince continued to gape at her. “You can’t be serious”, he breathed incredulously.
He got a slap to the back of his head for his trouble.
“Don’t ya be givin’ me any of that backtalk, boy!!”
There was a voice that was stage whispering in the silence.
“Now we know where he gets it from”, Randy whispered.
Estelle rounded on the voice, pointing at the offending young man. “You’ll be next if ya don’t shut yer piehole.”
Randy snapped his mouth shut, having learned his lesson from last time.
Estelle turned back to Vince, balancing the worn old paddle in her hands. “Now, are ya gonna be a good boy and take yer medicine?”
Vince, flabbergasted, sputtered, not knowing what to say. He was saved from responding by two people who ‘helped’ him get into position.
Estelle smiled sweetly at the two men: a dark skinned man with a bald head, and a young white man with a gap in his two front teeth. “Thank you, gentleman”, she said politely.
“Yer welcome, Madam”, the gap toothed one said, his Irish accent pronounced. “Got ‘im, Lashley?”
“Yep”, Lashley said cheerfully. “Go on Ma’am.”
And so it began. Estelle gave Vince a good forty hard thwacks with the paddle. What was more humiliating for Vince was the fact that not only was a backstage camera running, but many people had ran and got others to come and watch the spectacle. Even J.R., not about to forget not only having his head shoved up the Chairman’s ass, but other things too, came to watch, having his trusty camcorder.
“I’m puttin’ this in a place of honor in my DVD collection”, J.R. said amusedly.
“YOUTUBE!!” Cena cheered, having is own video phone.
The forty thwacks over with, she cricked her neck. “There, now that’s done”, she said almost conversationally.
Vince stood, humiliated and numbly sore, rubbing his behind, mumbling incoherently as he slunk out of the cafeteria.
“Now…” Estelle said, turning slowly to her son, “There’s just one more person I gotta punish.”
Mark actually paled. “Ma, I already apologized…”
“Now, son, ya know what happens when ya misbehave” Estelle said, brandishing the paddle.
Mark stood to his full height. “I’m not ten years old no more, Ma”, he said. “I’m a damned adult now, and I ain’t gonna letcha paddle me.”
Estelle raised her eyebrow. “Is that so?” she asked.
“Yea, that’s so”, Mark said, folding his arms.
Estelle looked to Lashley and Finlay. “Gentlemen, if you please.”
They both grinned and descended on Mark. It took them two, Paul, Cena, and Randy to pin him down. Estelle even got Stephanie to sit on Mark’s back to prevent him from moving.
And so it began again. This time, he got a good fifty whacks. J.R. was still filming, as he was still sore that it was the big man who shoved his face up Vince’s ass.
After it was finished, Mark, grumbling, rubbed his sore behind. He groaned when his mother shoved him into a chair, then turned to Paul. “I’ll fix you that hot cocoa now”, she said sweetly.
“Thank you very much, Ma’am”, Paul said, pretending to sniffle. “Some hot cocoa would be great.” When Estelle bustled off, everybody started to laugh their asses off.
“Oh, that was great”, Cena said, wiping his eyes. “I’ll treasure that moment forever.”
Estelle finally came back with said hot cocoa, and set it in front of Paul. “There you are dear”, she said, sitting in a chair. She then looked at Mark expectantly. “Don’t just sit there, boy!! Can’t ya see yer momma needs somethin’ to drink?!”
With a long suffering sigh, he got up and got her something to drink, coming back, and setting it down in front of her, sitting gingerly. “There ya are, ma”, he sighed.
“Such a good boy”, she said, taking a sip of her drink and patting his knee.
“Ma, we gotta talk”, Mark sighed.
“About what, Marcus?” she asked.
Mark began to talk. He told her exactly how things worked around here, and exactly how it was done. By the time Mark was done, Estelle’s eyes were wide as saucers.
“Ya mean…” Estelle said weakly.
Mark nodded. “Yea.”
“Oh dear…” Estelle said, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Ya don’t have to worry though, Ma’am”, J.R. said jovially. “Vince has had that comin’ for a long time.”
“And that man…that’s your daddy?” Estelle asked Stephanie, looking horrified.
Stephanie nodded. “Yep”, she giggled. “Wait ‘til I tell Mom. She’s going to love it.”
Then, Estelle rounded on Paul, scowling. “And you, deceiving an old woman!! Ya should be ashamed of yerself!!”
Paul flushed. “Sorry, Ma’am”, he mumbled, making his wife giggle.
“Oh dear, I’ve made ya look a fool, didn’t I?” Estelle said sadly.
Mark kissed his mother’s forehead. “Don’t ya worry on it, Ma”, he said softly. “I’ll make sure these young’uns learn their place.” He glared at Orton, Finlay, Cena, Levesque, and Lashley, promising all sorts of painful consequences.
“That’s my boy”, Estelle said, as her son hugged her against him.

Gravitational Pull

Vickie Guerrero, Official Consultant on SmackDown!, was having a REALLY bad day. She didn’t understand HOW it was happening…or WHY…but it was.

Things were literally flying off tables to revolve around her. First the stapler, then a pen, then every damned thing that was on her desk…including her laptop. She groaned in frustration as she tried to put these things down and get them to STAY down, but so far, she’d been unsuccessful.

“What the hell is going ON around here?!” Vickie growled, trying for the fifteenth time to put her stapler on her desk. She had no choice but to shove everything into the drawer, and slam it shut. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

‘I do NOT need this today!!’ she thought. She had a script meeting in half an hour, and she really didn’t want this happening while she was there. That was all she needed…a whole bunch of immature wrestlers making jokes. Oh yea, the biggest immature jerk of them all, Vince McMahon, would have a field day with it.

Then, the inevitable happened. The chair that was behind the desk rolled over to her, and smacked against her body, making her shriek in frustration. She heard a knock on the door.

“WHAT?!?” she barked. The door opened, revealing the Women’s Champion, Michelle McCool, and Layla, Michelle adjusting the title over her shoulder. Both women had scripts in their hands.

Michelle blinked at her. “Should I ask?”

Layla had no words. All she could do was gape.

Vickie was reaching the end of her rope. “Don’t just stand there, you two…HELP ME!!”

Michelle and Layla came in, wondering what the hell was going on. “Um…Vickie…why is the chair rolling around you??” Layla asked.

“I DON’T KNOW!!” Vickie wailed in misery. “Things have been sticking to me all day, and I don’t know why!! Watch!!” She took the stapler out of the drawer, and no sooner had she opened it, things flew out of it, and started to revolve around her.

Michelle and Layla watched, gaping as they looked to each other. They then started to laugh their asses off.

“IT’S NOT FUNNY!!!!” Vickie shrieked.

Their laughter was shortlived when Vickie stalked up to them.

Because the inevitable happened. Both Michelle AND Layla got pulled, and were now sucked in by the irresistible pull. They weren’t revolving around for some reason…instead, they were sticking to her.

“Get OFF me!!” Vickie grunted in exasperation, trying to shove them off. “You’re squishing me!!”

“We can’t!!” Michelle yelped, trying to move off her. “I think you must have your own gravitational pull!!”

Poor Layla was being crushed between the two. “Air…” she croaked, trying to move from between them so she could breathe.

At that moment, while the three were struggling, the door opened, and none other than Mark Calaway, also known as the Undertaker, was framed in the doorway.

He’d come to find Teddy Long to ask him something about that night’s show. But upon seeing the horrifying display that he had happened upon, he merely blinked, and turned, closing the door behind him as he walked away. He didn’t want THAT image in his head when he went to bed tonight.

Layla pitifully reached out to the salvation that had just walked out. “Help…air…”, she squeaked.

Michelle was now glaring mutinously at Vickie. “And who the hell are you to be talking about getting squished, anyway?? WE’RE not the ones with the gravitational pull!!”

Vickie was getting desperate. In a last ditch effort, she managed to pull herself into the bathroom, and before Michelle and Layla could follow, she slammed the door, effectively breaking the hold, making the two fall onto the floor, panting.

Layla lay there, panting, regaining oxygen to her brain, because spots had begun to dance in front of her eyes. “Oh, air, sweet nectar of life!!” she cried.

Meanwhile, Vickie was looking in horror around the bathroom, because the soap dispenser and the toilet paper roll had come loose and were revolving around her…and the mirror and door were beginning to vibrate…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Vickie bolted upright, her forehead beaded in sweat as she looked around her hotel room frantically. At first, she didn’t understand what was going on, until she blinked a few times to clear her fuzzy head. She eyed the pizza that she and the SD girls had shared before they all went to their separate rooms. Suddenly feeling nauseous, she jumped to her feet ran to the bathroom.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Chavo was walking through the hallways, having a bag of his aunt’s favorite breakfast in his hand: two Cinnabons, with double frosting, and a double venti macchiato. He knocked upon her door, and grinned when she whipped the door open.

“I come bearing gifts!!” Chavo said cheerfully, holding up the bag.

At that moment, he realized that something was not quite right. Because she looked at the bag…and shrieked. This wasn’t a shriek of fear…it was a shriek of pure terror. She shrieked for a while, before she paled before she covered her mouth with her hand, and ran for the bathroom. The door slammed, then he heard violent retching.

“I DON’T WANT TO HAVE MY OWN GRAVITATIONAL PULL!!!” she wailed.

Chavo just blinked. “Aunt Vickie, are you okay?” he asked in concern, knocking on the door.

A few minutes of retching, then all fell silent.

“I…I’m okay…” his aunt’s voice replied weakly. “Just…give me a few minutes.”

“Do you want me to get the trainer?” He asked.

“No, Just give me a little while to clean myself up”, she replied.

“Oh…Okay…well, I’m just going to leave your breakfast on the desk…” He blinked when he heard more retching, louder this time.

“Just…some dry toast with some ginger ale might be nice…” Vickie whimpered pathetically from inside the bathroom.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back, Auntie”, he said, shaking his head. What the hell had happened last night??? Did she eat some bad pizza??

Shaking his head in bewilderment, he went off to get her that dry toast and ginger ale.