This story came to creation just by me and my brother goofing around and poking fun at the mannerisims of some of the WWE wrestlers. It's all out of fun!
Disclaimer: I do not own a thing.
Beyond The Ropes
It was a bright and beautiful day on an early Saturday morning. After five days of nonstop action (not total nonstop action…), beatings and bruising, sweat and blood, it was finally some time for rest and relaxation at the WWE Mansion.
And the party was just beginning.
"What'sssssss for breakfasssst."
In his baby blue fluffy bathrobe, Randy Orton slide down the grand staircase towards the kitchen, undulation up and down on his stomach.
Batista, geared in his wrestling attire, flipped a sizzling fying pan filled with thick pancakes. "Whatever you want, man." He looked up as Daren Young approached the coffee machine. "Hey, make me some coffee? Thanks." Flip.
Darren snatched an extra mug from the cupboard and slammed it onto the counter. "I'm tired of this!"
On the other side of the counter, The Miz gulped down a third helping of his new favorite breakfast drink. He looked up at his fellow co-wrestlers with curiosity and held up the glass. "This is good stuff. What is it?"
Carlito scrunched up his face at the milk mustache covering The Miz's upper lip with disgust and contempt. "Das milk."
The Miz stared into his empty glass, nodding. "Aweeesomeeeeee."
Carlito just shook his head and grabbed a green apple from the fruit basket. Every eye shot his way. He looked up, his eyes moving from one wrestler to the other. "What?" he asked, pulling out a knife and slicing the apple into his oatmeal.
Just then Jack Swagger slugged into the kitchen wearing a onesy pajama piece equipped with footsies. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned.
Batisa glanced over his shoulder and laughed. "I'm surprised not to see that belt around your waist." He turned to John Morison who was tending to the turkey bacon." He usually sleeps with that thing."
John laughed then extracted a slice of bacon from the package with a flourish placing it into a pan with slow motion.
On his way to the fridge, Seamus was cut off by Jack Swagger who stood in front of it like a solid brick wall. He unzipped his onesy to his chest, swiped out his belt with a flash and held it up in the air.
Seamus gave an exasperated sigh, then murmured and turned back around.
At the table, Edge repeatedly speared his pancakes with his fork, his eyebrows raised and his eyes manic. "Spear. Spear. Spear. Spear…"
"OKAY!" Everyone shouted.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH."
Everyone ducked and dodged, their eyes darting around the kitchen for danger.
"What!"
"What is it!"
John Cena, his face pale and horrific, slowly made his way towards the trash bin. He dug his hand inside and lifted out a plastic water bottle. He held it up for everyone to see. "Who's is this?" he asked in his calm and technically trained drama voice.
No one claimed it and everyone just rolled their eyes or waved him off.
Kane walked past the window near the picket white fence.
"Plastic," he said, crunching the bottle into his hands until it became deformed, "belongs in the RECYLCING BIN!" He tossed the bottle towards the recycling bin and stiffly waddled off.
Christian watched the bottle fly past him with his hand over his forehead. He was searching for his peeps, but still couldn't seem to find them anywhere.
"So then I was like, Excuse Me!"
Rey Mysterio politely laughed at Vicky's joke even though it wasn't that humorous, and hid his fake smile behind a can of Sprite. He cracked it open.
Upstairs in CM Punk's room, where the soft sounds of India floated through the speakers of his computer, Punk's eyes snapped open at the sound of the Crack.
He hopped off of his chair, toppling over it, and raced downstairs.
Seconds away from taking a sip of his soda, CM Punk swooped down beside Rey and smacked the can out of his hand.
"What are you doing?" CM asked, zeal flaming in his eyes. "Do you know how bad soda is for you? Do you have any IDEA what the acid does to your kidneys?" He snorted in detestation, shook his head and walked off with indignation.
Rey Mysterio's face (underneath his mask) grew red as the blood in his veins began to boil.
Suddenly, everyone began singing happy birthday. He quickly jumped in with a giant smile, singing louder than the whole bunch, and moved over to the huge decorated cake on the table.
"What's up? What's up?" R Truth rapped, rocking back and forth. "Who's birthday is it?"
"Nobody's." Triple H shrugged. "We just like cake." He pulled out a sledgehammer and rested it on his shoulder. "Now who wants some?"
Everyone rushed near the table to grab a slice.
Randy Orton turned his back on everyone, unable to stomach cake.
"Where are you going?" Darren Young asked.
Randy avoided his gaze, his eyes low and dark. "I'm going back to my room."
"I'm coming with you," Darren said before stuffing his mouth with a mashed piece of cake. He wiped the glob of icing off his mouth with the back of his hand and rubbed it into his hair. "It's so boring down here. I'm sick of this." The wrestlers behind him started to push and budge, frantic over getting their cake. He snapped his head around. "Don't touch me!"
Randy Orton's jaw clenched. He swiveled around to face Darren. "No one goesssss into my room." His neck twisted and convulsed, jerking uncontrollably. After getting himself back together, he fell to his stomach and slid up the stairs.
As soon as he made it to his bedroom door, Randy checked his surroundings before pushing it open. Behind the door lied a vast forest, thick with towering trees. He smiled with satisfaction this was home.
Kane swung past the forest on a vine.
Downstairs, Batista turned up the volume on the stereo. "Oh man. This is my jam."
"Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down."
The wrestlers formed a couple of lines and began doing the electric slide. John Cena lead the way, stomping his timbs to the beat and bending way down to the ground. The only sounds left where the beats of their feet, the snaps of their fingers and the deep soulful voice of Rick Roll.
THE END