The Writer's Ramble:
This story is rated T right now, but it will be rated M later for reason you'll find out about.
Hello everyone; this is Jacob the Writer and if you haven't guessed by the title, this is going to be my first attempt at a Total Drama fanfic, With three special guests from WWE of course: but still a Total Drama fanfiction nonetheless; I do not own any of the characters mentioned and in case if you're wondering. I got this idea from UltimateWarriorFan4Ever's story on TD contestants being on crack. So yeah, thank you UltimateWarriorFan4Life for this inspiration.
And I would also like to state that I am certainly not for under-age drinking. (If you're wondering why I say that, it's because the second generation is 18 and the third generation of TD is sixteen.) So while the title does read Total Drama Intoxication, no alcohol will be involved during the making of this story: I'm also setting three locations for all three generation; so for example: If I do one for Lindsay, it will be in America, for Anne Marie; Canada and for Scarlett; Jamaica.
So how will this story pan out with these guidelines? Well, you'll just have to listen to the crazy person to figure it out. With that out of the way, enjoy the story.
Chapter 1: Introduction/Courtney
Inside a secret room; where there was very little air conditioning and no windows so no one could see them, there is a laboratory with gadgets and gidgets alike, and one very big torture chamber for those who have done wrong thanks to their sins.
There were also two scientists who all looked very familiar to those who watch the ongoings of WWE's Monday Night Raw and Thursday Night SmackDown, both of which not knowing of what the hell was going on; but still, were here nonetheless. Then; an curly haired; homely looking figure came pushing a school chalkboard, already with words on it. It looked as if there was something very important going on, and that this could not be missed.
"Now..." He started, "Let's go over the steps of intoxication one more time..."
After hearing the words, a slightly obese man with a haircut combining Sheamus with John Cena, looked at his watch with a bored look on his face. "This had better be good" he sighed.
A muscular man with tattoos looked at him and shrugged. "Eh, you can never really tell with Dean. He's either a legit genius and smarter than Albert Einstein or loopier than a coked up Roddy Piper.
All of a sudden, the two both heard a clack on the chalk board. Quickly; both put their attention to Dean and tried to guess what he had in store today.
"Well, then. Now that you're actually looking at the board..." shining his pointing stick, "...And not paying attention to Kevin's hair fetish." Joking about Kevin's unusual hair. "We can begin our review."
And gently, ever so gently; he began to show everyone what he had put together. In a flash; he cried out "ONE!" and smacked the pointing stick onto to circled one with a poorly drawn word. He read in out in a long drawn out fashion. "Sober..."
Kevin and Roman tried to write down what Sober was like to people. But there was one problem...there was no definition as to what sober was!
"Now you might have noticed that I didn't bother to write anything down for Sober..." Dean pointed out, "That's because; Everyone knows what sober is like!" He cackled, channeling his inner his Mick Foley.
Owens looked on and rolled his eyes. "Saw that one coming." He grumbled to himself. "TWO!" Dean smiled and again, cracked the pointing stick onto another poorly drawn word, and just like last time; he said it in a slow manner. "Buzzed."
"And no, I do not mean that a bee is buzzing around someone that would be ridiculous." He joked, gaining a snicker from Roman. "Buzzed is that very awkward feeling that you get when you realize that while you're not really sober anymore...you're not really drunk either." He explained to the two hopeful scientists, or as he called them: Drunkologists.
"The only real noticeable think is that your eyes have trouble focusing." Kevin looked up at his watch again, praying to himself that soon that whole charade would be all over. "THREE!" Dean shrieked, once again smashing the stick onto the chalkboard; dropping Kevin out of his watch-looking.
"Tipsy..." Kevin starting get the feeling that they were officially in the big leagues now and shuddered. "Now Tipsy is the point where you officially leave sobriety and become intoxicated. You're face is warm, and you're relaxed and loose; you may have some motor function problems, but I wouldn't say you're totally impaired." Dean said.
Roman thought that Dean had finished his sentence, and began to write..."Of course, there is of course a loophole to this rule." Dean continued; stopping Roman from writing any more. "Now this loophole is important, so listen up." And Roman paid close attention to this.
"If anyone were to wear say, a floor-length dress like one of those Disney Princesses, and it was sort of heavy; then your motor function is considerably impaired from the third point out, with second only being minor impairment." Roman and Kevin looked at each other in confusion, how in the world could Dean have known all this detail? Roman went on to ask, but before he could; he was stopped by the mad-man that is Dean Ambrose.
"And before anyone asks; yes I tested it, on someone with no dress and someone with a floor-length dress." Killing two birds in one stone.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa; who was that someone with the floor-length dress?" Roman asked, changing his question in a snap.
"Oh a very kind woman down the street; her name is Amy Wommendale, she's a college student; 21 years old and she models these gowns for a living. It's kinda like her job." Dean easily answering that question with authority.
"Dean, if Renee finds out about this; she's not going to be pleased." Roman warned him, worrying about what his girlfriend Renee Young would think about this.
"Uh, yo...Roman" Dean said, trying to calm down to situation. "Do you see why we don't have windows for outside or the door?, and do you see why we have a extremely complex password so the door can open? In my pocket nonetheless?" He told him in a quiet voice.
Roman thought about this for a moment; he thought long and hard. He realized that Dean was right. There was no chance in bloody hell that anyone but the three of them would find out. "I guess it couldn't be bad...As long as she doesn't find out."
"Oh she won't." Dean chuckled to himself, going into a flashback.
Dean had locked the door tight so that no one could see how the test was working out; "So, how are ya holding up m'lady?" Dean turned to a slightly curvy young woman, her black hair; flowed down to her chest, she had two matching earrings and was wearing a strapless gown with a ruffled skirt in the shape of a mermaid's tail. All of which, were blue.
And of course, she had been infected the thing that Dean used to infect 52 other people. She struggled to gain her composure as she swayed back and forward; giggling on about much ado about nothing.
Dean got out a pencil and wrote some things in his journal. He would hear to Amy's giggling, he looked at her and she asked, in a slurred voice.
"Whuh-whuh, what d'yu think yer doin'?" Amy pointed to the pencil and journal; stumbling as she spoke.
"What, this?" Dean showed her his pencil and his journal. She nodded and wobbled backward a few steps.
"Ya! That thing!" She pointed out. "Wiv the pointy sharp dingy and that big ol' booky." She chuckled, uncontrollably.
"No, no; it's nothing." He reassured her, "You just go on doing your thing, and i'll go on doing my thing."
She started to titter up once again, and she smiled; knowing that she would be alright under Dean. And she swayed off; wobbling an attempt to make a straight line, failing miserably. Like it was an chore to do.
And that was the way it stayed for another thirty minutes.
Finally getting out of Dream-Land, he turned his attention to the chalkboard and yelled out "FOUR!", once more sparking the stick to the chalkboard. Slowly, he made a line with the stick under the word and pointed out the obvious. "Drunk."
"Of course, this is self-explanatory." He started out. "Drunk is you can't control most things, like laughing; your reactions are often over-emotional and on occasion unnecessary. Like thinking everything is funny or sad, you also decide to do extremely odd things like hugging your guy friends if your a guy or flashing your boobs to someone."
"Heh...boobs." Roman snickered as Dean said the five lusted letters. For that, he was awarded a light punch in the arm from Kevin Owens.
"What? It was just a joke!" He complained.
"Motor function is also considerably impaired, so you can say goodbye to walking straight and hello to falling flat on your ass." Dean lectured onward.
"I'm pretty sure i'd fall down if I knew that I was gonna be here today..." grumbled Kevin, which provoked the lunatic fringe.
"I heard that Mr. Kevin!" Kevin rolled his eyes and told him. "Oh please, just get to the last number." "All right! I will!" He scoffed and yelled out a; "FIVE!" and for the last time, punched the stick onto the chalkboard and pointed it out.
"Wasted. Of course, Wasted; is impossible NOT to notice. You have no control over many things, especially walking and what you say. You're damn sure going to hurt themselves in the most fucked up way possibly. Liable to vomit, and I can promise to you that you're going to have a hangover and blackout." Dean smiled, about to ask one more question. "Sounds like fun yes?"
Roman slowly raised his hand, as he did so; Dean chuckled. As Roman's hand got higher and higher, Dean's laughing got stronger and stronger until at last he finally reached the top, Dean bellowed out a scary, almost jump scare like; "WRONG!"
Startled by the outburst, Kevin and Roman kept their mouths shut for a good long while. "Now." Dean said and he walked around handing papers. "You will notice that i've given you paper that are very beneficial to every drunkologist."
When he gave the two out the two pieces of paper, he told them exactly what they are. "They are your scoring sheets. And they help you to decide how someone is acting when they are in an intoxicated state. There are four categories for you to rate on, they are..."
Attempting to keep the suspense going, Dean paused for a good long while. Annoyed by his long delay, Kevin tried to say something to break things up, just before he could get anything going from his mouth: Dean spoke for what seemed like the first time in days.
"Motor Function, which determines if their motor function gets stunted, Speech, which determines if what they say actually makes any damn sense, Control, which determines if they can control what they say and Akwardity, which determines if they may do some really fucked up shit." collapsing in exhaustion, Dean got his towel to clean off the sweat that furnaced on his forehead.
"Are you finished?" Roman asked. But Dean mumbled a few more things he didn't get to mention. "And all the numbers to get your score, the higher it is, the drunker the person is...and also actually give out some detail to what you're doing."
"OK captain." Roman chuckled as the three walked to the torture room. Before anyone got very far, Kevin asked one last skeptical question.
"So whose your first victim in arms anyway?" Dean got into his creepy smile and turned to Kevin when he first said "victim in arms".
"What a good question...I guess you really are a smartass punk kid who came to NXT just to bitch and moan about being later than your butt buddies." Furious and enraged by Dean's comments, Kevin started to charge up to him and punch his face into his skull.
But before he could get physical, Roman blocked the path from Ambrose in the nick of time. "The first person is someone named Courtney, from what we've gathered she is a Counsler in Training and a hopeful lawyer. Her mom grew up in Canada and her dad grew up in some place in Argentina. She was born in Michigan and moved to Quebec when she was eight years old." Unbelievably handing out all the details, Dean only winked and said. "Exactly what I wrote down!"
Kevin rolled his eyes and scowled. Not believing that Roman had accidentally gotten Dean hooked on a little show simply known as Total Drama and had made a bet saying he couldn't get every single Total Drama contestant and get them to do whatever the bidding tells him to do.
"Now, you're probably wondering; Dean, how in the hell did you get her to come here? You know that she's not easily distracted!" Kevin stirred to himself and grumbled, "Yeah, but even then; i'm pretty sure that bitch would kick your ass if she'd found out..." Dean pointed up to Kevin, to once again prove his suspicions wrong.
"Well it wasn't easy. I had to be cool, but sturdy. So...I took the logical course. And double-booked a school dance with a debate team meeting." He said in his proudest voice. Roman noticed Kevin's mumbling complaints and answered them in the most non-complex way possible. "Oh, and uh, don't worry about any trouble. Once the thing wears off: They won't remember a thing that happened."
Finally getting some questions answered; Kevin decided to take the best course of action and keep his mouth shut; when Dean and the others finally got to the torture room, they were welcomed with a good sign.
Or at least that's what Dean thought in his sick twisted mind.
What the three saw instead was the former Total Drama contestant and wannabe lawyer; once a proud, cold and expressive woman, now reduced to being a victim of Ambrose's unusual journey.
Having foolishly fallen for the trap, she stood (correction; STAGGERED would seem more appropriate) with a red floor length gown, with a sweetheart with one strap and a flowing mermaid gown. She'd turned her hair into a 40s style and had red lipstick on her lips.
"Now listen up." Dean stated, about to turn ugly in about a moment. "This is your first target, so don't fuck this up like the other two did!" And he pointed to two corpses, one named Eddie Guerrero and the other named Chris Benoit: Obviously a sign that while the two were excellent wrestlers, they weren't perfect.
Horrified, both Kevin and Roman quickly turned to their test dummy; who simply just swayed left and right and waved her right hand to say hello.
"So far, so good." Roman mumbled to himself. To his bewilderment, Courtney managed to hear what he said. "Whah?" She asked, her voice noticeably quivering. "You th-think I'm too far?"
Shocked and slightly amazed by her impeccable hearing, Roman tried to come up with the right words to sum it up. But he just couldn't. "I'll cum in closer fo' ya." She told him; and she barely managed to start walking, abit slow and wobbly; what was once one of the easiest things to do: was now a unbelievable task of not being la broken shopping cart that usually teetered left...and then right...Left and right, left and right, left and right...
Until, she finally made it...and slammed herself onto the glass. Drawing stifled chuckles from Ambrose and Owens. Roman wrote down her progress in his notepad, overexcited by her success; she squealed like a pig during mating season. "That was soooo much fawn!" Courtney giggled as she stumbled backwards, not sure of where she was.
"Well, I'll give her this. It's better than Lady Gaga's dance moves." Reigns smirked, Owens and Ambrose agreed as Courtney swayed forward, unknowing of what her direction is supposed to be.
Dazed and confused, Courtney looked at the curly haired maniac in suspicion; her eyes, looking derpy and unfocused and her curiosity growing bigger and bigger. Ambrose looked at her and wondered what the hell did she want. So, he did the noble thing and asked..."The fuck does this bitch want?"
But Courtney didn't answer. She just kept staring at Ambrose; like as if she was cursed or something. Irritated and confused as all fuck; he decided to not pay attention and write what was going on in his notepad...and she just kept staring at him. Swaying back and forth like a boat rocking over the seas.
Finally; a whole two hours later, something happened. Ambrose noticed that Courtney's eyes were starting to get a bit bloodshot from staring at him. He shrugged and decided to finally snap her out of it and blinked. Seeing this, she jumped into victory!
"I WIN!" Courtney shrieked. "I-I, I TOLD YA I'D WIN! NOW SUCK IT!" Doing the all-too familiar D-X Chop, Confused; Roman tapped on Ambrose's shoulder and asked, "How the hell did you get her to do that?"
"Ah, it's simple." He smirked, "Wait until her eyes gets as red as Mars, then blink on purpose so she'd believe that she was the winner." Courtney stumbled around; gloating about her 'victory'...until she got hit smack dab into the wall and collapsed onto the floor. The three looked on in shock and awe; on how the hell she could stare at someone for that damn long period and whether or not she was going to be ok.
Until; she finally got her left arm up and mumbled weakly, "I'm ok." By that time, Ambrose decided that it was time to end the test. So he helped her up and thanked her for being a part of this experiment.
"Your contribution will make the Seth Rollins is the Anti-Christ Charity Fund very happy." He exclaimed. She just mumbled and slumped around. By that time; Courtney had grown incoherent, tired and barely able to stand, There was absolutely no damn way she was going to make it home at this state.
Ambrose volunteered to take her to the closest place he could find. But as he started walking out of the torture room door, Courtney began to (for no good reason) walk and dance at the same time; sluggishly flopping around her arms and teetering around like a walrus on crack.
Ambrose; realizing that this was his last chance to do anything with her before the test was over; jumped backwards, took his jacket off and began to do Michael Jackson's famous Moon-walk. Roman cheered him off as Kevin looked on in disbelief; muttering to himself, "Why can't I do that?" Courtney, enjoying Dean's performance; seductively pulled him over so that she could give him and big fat kiss on the cheek.
"I think I could get used to this..." Ambrose smiled as he took Courtney's hand and they boogied their way home (or at least Dean Ambrose was boogieing, Courtney was just swaying her ass a lot; kinda adorable acutally.)
By the time he got home; it was time for Roman and Kevin to give out their final scores. Roman would start off with his first, Then Kevin and finally Dean Ambrose himself.
Here now are the results.
Roman's Results
Motor Function: 4 (Stumbled and swayed around a lot and fell down at one point.)
Speech: 2 (Did slur a little.)
Control: 3 (Engaged in a staring contest with Dean. Fell down but got up.)
A.T: 2 (Again, staring contest...she also started dancing for no good reason.)
Overall: 11/20 (C)
Kevin's Results
Motor Function: 4 (She was stumbling around like a stoned kangaroo.)
Speech: 3 (Slurred, but I could remember what she was saying.)
Control: 3: (Staring contest with Dean; she 'won', but she also fell on her ass.)
A.T: 4: (Starting dancing randomly, it was bad...fuckin' Emma bad.)
Overall: 14/20 (C)
Dean's Results
Motor Function: 3 (Unlike others who would rate her performance a four; I was more forgiving. Of course; she had a hard time walking on her mermaid gown, swaying, stumbling and a little slow too. Even falling down at one point; of course, she got back up with my help.)
Speech: 3 (I was really leaning towards a two because while she did slur; she at least was coherent enough so that I knew what she said. However; as the night passed on, she grew less and less coherent until she was unable to speak.)
Control: 4 (Of course, there was her staring contest with me; which I won. Above others; she could hear what Roman Reigns said, danced for no good reason and crashed into a wall, twice.)
A.T: 4 (The whole dancing act she did, which yes; I did get involved with. It certainly was a lot of fun, and if given the chance, I would do again. Why? Because she was as clumsy as a big fat ox. I love it when people dance like clumsy fat oxen.)
Overall: 14/20 (C)
Having shown their scores to each others; they called it a night and headed off for home (or to the couch), but before Kevin Owens left; he had one more question for the leader of the drunken circus. "How did you get her to do all that without even giving her any alcohol?"
Dean looked left, and he looked right. And then; as secretive as he could possibly get; he got out of his pocket a green pen-like figure with a really sharp point and blackish brown goop inside of it. Kevin looked on, surprised and amazed how he could do that. "Tell no soul or else you go the way of the JFK." Dean warned him, and he wished goodnight.
And that's exactly what he did.
Drying the Ink
Well now, this could possibly be my most ambitious project on . Hopefully; we can go on to great things. Now let me ask you, would do you want to see get drunkeded next? List who you want in the comments below and it might be chosen.
And if you want to join in the fun; use what our drunkologists used and reply your thoughts on how drunkified that person was via PM. (Note: In case this sounds a bit too interactive, I will compromise and the three will not acknowledge you.)
Here is the blank list,
Motor Issues:
Speech:
Control:
Abnormal Things:
Misc Thoughts:
Make sure you go into detail with what you say in it or else Dean will have you sentenced to death.
And more importantly, have fun with it and I will see you on the next chapter. Have a nice day.