Hello, this idea came to me while I was rereading a couple of stories about candy, and WWE Superstars getting into fights over it. Yeah, 'Can You Taste the Rainbow?' and 'Candy Wars'. This one is technically the third installment, but you don't have to read the others. I own no one, Candyman belongs to Christina Aguilera, and California Gurls belongs to Katy Perry/Snoop Dogg. Everyone owns themselves, and I apologize for grammatical errors. Alrighty now, on to the story!

Read, review, and enjoy :)

Kiwi

Punk sulked, walking through the hallways of the arena as if doing so was a great pain. He was alone, well, that's how he felt.

"No Jeff, no Matt, no Edge, no Christian..." he murmured, dragging a hand through his hair. He couldn't believe that he was the last of them. The candy wars that had been started... they never officially got their end. And now, he was the last warrior of that battle still on the battlefield today. Of course, Christian, well... Jay was still there, just not there. Nope, little Jay Bird was flying over Smackdown, and he was all alone here on Raw.

Even Morrison and Edge were gone, and they had been there for the declaration of war. Being the last one was complicating. Naturally, he felt like he had just won Darwin's game of natural selection. Secondly, he was alone. Plain and simple. No one here on Raw would play his games, hell, they didn't even understand the magical powers of Skittles, however fraudulent those powers were.

His war days, now those were the times. How he had escaped the tree was still beyond him. All he really knew was that revenge was needed, he just didn't get to it in time. Nope, his revenge couldn't be taken out on Jeff, or Matt, or Thing 1 and Thing 2; as much as it pained him to admit. His games with those four were over, it would just be stirring up old dirt, breaking open old wounds. And, to be quite honest, they had won the battle between them.

So now, he was lurking through the halls, just dying to pick a fight. He could strike Cena, yeah, Cena could work. Poor chap had been worked to the bone talking in the ring every night. Ryder? Nope, poor kid was tweeting up a storm and talking to himself through a screen. Punk needed someone worthy, someone who would through it back just as hard as it had been dealt.

Then, someone ran into him. Well, it was technically the other way around. He hadn't been paying attention. "Watch it," he scowled as he realized who it was, "Otunga! Hi, man. How's it going?"

"You're...chippy."

"Is that bizarre?"

"Considering you rarely talk to me, yeah," Otunga nodded, about to turn the other way and walk off.

"Wait!" Punk yelled, "Let me throw candy at you!" He clapped a hand on the other man's shoulder, causing the Harvard graduate to jump.

"What?" Otunga asked slowly, as if Punk's speech was slurred. Did the Straightedge Superstar really just as him to be a target for candy?

"You heard me. Just stand over there and let me get some Nerds," Punk trailed off, slinging his bag to the floor and rifling through it.

"Punk, why don't you see if the Divas want to play this weird little thing you have?" Otunga pinched the bridge of his nose, still trying to grasp what the other man wanted.

Punk looked taken aback, "You can't throw candy at the WWE Divas," he stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the entire world, "that's like tipping a stripper with a Filet-o-Fish." Otunga paused, poised to question the raving Chicago native in front of him. Had Punk gone off the deep end?

"I'm busy, Punk,"

"With what? Nexus is over, buddy. Remember?" Punk patted Otunga's head, "Now, stand still, I'm not sure how good my arm is. It's been awhile since I've done this."

At that moment, Miz walked by, and Otunga's eyes lit up, "Mike!"

"Huh?" The Miz asked, his hands in his pockets, "Yeah, 'Tunga?"

"Help me."

"Yeah, Mike," Punk grinned, "Come with us on a journey. I know a place."

"Is the grass really greener?"

"Yes. Warm, wet, and wild," Punk sighed in content, his mind drifting off as Mike replied,

"Is there something in the water?"

David Otunga was now at a loss for words. What he had hoped to be his savior had turned into another assailant, both of which had turned to whacking him with Butterfingers, strangely to the beat of the song they were singing. He buried his face in his hands, his patience wearing thing. Every time he tried to break free, they brought him back in.

"This is getting to be a little ridiculous," he murmured, his fingers massaging his temple as Mike gave him a particularly hard whack with a Snickers bar.

"Drum solo!" Mike yelled, drumming candy bars against his friend's back as Punk surveyed the scene around him. His eyes fell on somebody just a little ways off. Reaching into his pocket, he quickly calculated the trajectory and all that fun jazz he ignored in high school, cocked his arm back, and released the object. A small battle hymn played in the back of his mind as the piece of candy sailed through the air, dodging Truth's head, and hitting his target square in the forehead.

"Did you just hit me with a Laffy Taffy?" Jericho asked, disbelief and anger swirling in his voice as he walked towards the rigamaroo that was taking place. Punk nodded, barely containing his excitement. He had found a suitable opponent.

"Think fast, Jericho!" Mike yelled again, whipping the Snickers at Chris. It thumped against the blond's chest before falling to the floor. Chris's eyebrow hiked up as he moved forward, stepping on the Snickers as he went. Horror flashed in Mike's eyes before settling into a glare. Mike glanced back to Punk, who nodded in approval and handed Mike a bag of Jawbreakers. The two jumped behind an equipment box, pulling Otunga with them and periodically peeking over to see just how close Jericho was getting.

"Your aim sucks," Otunga chastized, grabbing one of the large Jawbreakers in his hand, "This, is how you throw." He popped up, threw the Jawbreaker and ducked back down. Punk knelt down, his eyes barely breaching the edge of the equipment box. Jericho was nowhere to be seen, but Kane stood, staring at the Jawbreaker that had just struck him in the chest.

"Shit, we're screwed now," Punk shook his head, grabbing Otunga by the shirt collar, "Listen up, Bowtie Deluxe, I'm going to tell you just how screwed we really are. I'm going to tell you exactly what you and your throwing arm did. You just hit Kane, with a Jawbreaker, and now he's coming this way. Got that? Or do you need to go back to Harvard?" Punk scowled, releasing Otunga and bracing himself for impact. Mike glared at Otunga and shook his head slowly, disapprovingly tsking the former Nexus member. They were so caught up in preparing for Kane's wrath, that they didn't notice Jericho creeping up behind them.

"Hey, Junior Assclowns," he called, grabbing their attention.

"Hey, Jericho," Punk laughed nervously as Kane joined the Canadian, "Kane... how's it going?" This wasn't how he had planned it. He had planned a victory, not this. This was slowly heading towards inevitable defeat. Chris held up the bag of Starbursts, and handed Kane the bag of, well... candy canes.

"Seriously?" Kane asked, and Jericho shrugged.

"War is war, Kaney boy," he clapped Kane on the shoulder, "Oh, and we have chocolate syrup, and some marshmallows, and some Peeps, just in time for Easter, and some lollipops, and those egg-shaped Reese's. I mean, c'mon, they're delicious by themselves, but put them in an egg-shaped mold and I just can't help myself. Just...oodles of them, stacked up at home, waiting..." Jericho's eyes flashed with a forlorn twinkle and he sighed, a content smile spreading across his face, "Why do they taste so much better as eggs?"

"I don't know," Kane stated, taking a handful of Starbursts and pelting the other three with them, "This, is what you get for throwing Jawbreakers at people." Kane accented each word with a well-aimed Starburst. Punk flinched, Mike held his arms up in defense, and Otunga let them bounce off of his head and roll across the floor. Jericho joined in, tossing various candies at the Straightedge Superstar. You see, one does not simply hit the Savior with a Laffy Taffy and get away with it. No, there were consequences for every action.

"C'mon, guys," Mike whined, "What we did was nothing compared to this"

"If you can't play the game, then go home," Jericho snapped, breaking a candy cane over Mike's head.

Punk shuddered, his mind flickering and fumbling for something to get him out of this mess. He couldn't lose this war, no...and the only way out was a distraction. Clearing his throat, he ignored the marshmallow bird that had just landed in his lap.

"Oh, I met him out for dinner on a Friday night, he really had me workin' up an appetite," Punk hummed, elbowing Mike, who elbowed Otunga.

"He had tattoos up and down his arms," Mike added.

"There's nothin' more dangerous than a boy with charm," David sang and the three stood. The equipment box had long since rolled away. They slowly got closer to their attackers, and Otunga was getting far more into it than he probably should've; dancing and swaying to the imaginary beat.

"He's a one stop shop, makes my panties drop," Punk bellowed, sliding his back down Kane's side, "He's a sweet talkin', sugar coated candyman. A sweet talkin', sugar coated candyman. Ohh, yeah." They proceeded to sing the chorus, ignoring the bizarre looks they were getting from the now distracted Kane and Jericho. Punk smirked, his idea had worked. He tapped the other two on their shoulders, gesturing for them to get out of dodge while they had the chance.

However, Kane slung his arm around Mike and Punk, and Jericho did the same for Otunga.

"Well, by now I'm getting all bothered and hot. When he kissed my mouth it really hit the spot," Kane sang. Yeah, Punk couldn't believe it either.

"He had lips like sugarcane," Jericho belted, nudging Kane with his hip, "Good things come for boys who wait." Jericho paused for a second, "Sing."

"N-naw, I think you guys have it handled," Mike chuckled, trying to slide away from the Big Red Machine.

"Jericho said sing," Kane daunted and Mike slid right back under Kane's arm as the three joined in again.

From a few feet away, Wade Barrett and Sheamus stood, surveying the situation with deep concern and confusion in their eyes. Was Kane really singing that? They had watched the scene unfold, and to be entirely honest, they couldn't believe it. Crazy crap like that didn't happen on Smackdown. It was disturbing, to say the least.

"What the bloody hell?" Wade asked and Sheamus shrugged.

"Maybe it's an American thing?"

Wade turned towards his friend and shook his head, "Americans." The next thing Wade knew, he had been slapped in the face with a Twizzler.

"I'm from Winnipeg, you idiot."