Just What I Need…

By the Angel

Disclaimer: After watching February 4's RAW is WAR, I couldn't get this out of my head. And here it is! I don't own nothing. Vince McMahon does. Knock yourself out.

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"Do it because I'm pregnant!" Stephanie announced to the world, shocking…Well, the world. Especially me, her husband. It's funny, how I should have guessed, of all people that my wife was having a baby.

And the timing is just perfect. If you couldn't tell, this is major sarcasm. I am a Royal Rumble winner, I am having title shots, and I am going to face the Undisputed Champion, whoever it may be, at Wrestlemania. And now I am going to have a baby.

Well, I am not having the baby. Steph is. It would be scientifically impossible for me to have the baby.

It's just that, I always wanted to have a baby, and I always wanted to raise it with Stephanie. But now that the time has finally come, everything is not corresponding to this "joyful event."

And now I've got to act like the perfect husband. I mean, I love Steph, and I really like her money, but now I've got to do even more than I did before. Not that I am blaming Steph; because I'm not. She is pregnant, and she is fragile, but…

Why does this always happen to me?

And now I am going to be chased by the mushy women. I can't turn a corner now without someone congratulating me and asking me what baby bonnets I'd like for the baby.

And the baby probably doesn't even have a fetus.

I'm sure Vince is going to throw a party as well. He'll probably be as happy as I am. Yay. Celebration. I am going to bring the confetti and the party hearts. You remember to come to the party now, ya hear?

Yeah. Sure. Whatever.

I better start sucking on hard candy to get my voice in tip-top shape for the nightly crooning of lullabies.

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