Disclaimer - I own nothing but the idea.
"Brightening Her Day"
"Aw… Come on." I practically moaned.
I was in my car, in the hot Florida sunshine, in a traffic jam.
But the worst part was that I was supposed to go and visit Trish (who had gotten herself injured) in the hospital, and I was already at least an hour late.
I blame the fact that I had woken up at 12:30 (already a half an hour late) not on my laziness, but on the fact that my stupid alarm clock didn't go off.
It's been doing that a lot lately, I really think I need a new one. The problem is that I just don't feel like getting off my ass long enough to go to the store as well as travel the world, which I have to do constantly.
Oh well.
Getting back on topic, I was still in that forsaken traffic jam from hell, and I was still burning up.
I blame the fact that I was hot on the stupid rental car (I seem to be blaming a lot of stuff lately). A couple days previous, I had cranked the air conditioning all the way down, but it wasn't enough, so I just kept turning.
Stupid thing snapped right off in my hand, and now it didn't work at all. Cheap piece of crap.
Well I believe I'm getting off topic again, so lets get back to the main story.
Anyway, I was just sitting there in my car, not yelling at people or anything (ok maybe a little bit) when this bald guy decides he wants to flip me off.
I was already ticked off (as usual) and this just served to push me over the edge.
I got out of my car, walked over and picked a loose chunk of cement off the curb, headed over to the moron who was stupid enough to give ME off all people such a rude gesture, (he was also exiting his vehicle) and took a swing at his head with my makeshift weapon.
He ducked; therefore I missed him completely, but still got some revenge, as I ended up unintentionally knocking out the driver side window of his truck.
He cursed and took a swing at me, the idiot.
His fist flew fast at my face, but being a professional wrestler, my reflexes were much better than his.
I quickly raised the cement chunk in front of my face, and the results were him crying like a baby and most likely breaking every finger on his hand.
I laughed in his face as he clutched his hand, but then someone approached from behind.
My senses as well as my reflexes were finely tuned, so I new something was coming up behind me.
I whirled around, ready to bash the idiot who thought it wise to sneak up on me in the face, but stopped myself when I saw who it was.
"Sir, you're under arrest." The cop (Who had come from his car, which I now noticed parked down the road a bit) told the man I had been fighting with.
"Yeah moron. That'll teach you not to mess with me." I said.
The cop looked at me.
"You're under arrest, too."
I groaned. "Listen man, I have somewhere I really need to be." I told him. "So can ya just arrest me later?
The cop just stared at me like I was crazy for a moment, then said, "Nice try, smartass."
"I guess not." I said. "Well maybe Benjamin Franklin would make you change your mind?"
"Are you trying to bribe me?" he asked.
"Well duh, dipstick." I replied.
"Well alright then!" He exclaimed with a smile of his own.
So I handed him the bill and headed back to my car.
I was about to start the engine up again when I realized that the traffic had barely moved at all, (except for everyone who was behind my car who couldn't move at all) and it would be faster just to walk.
With a slightly evil smirk plastered on my face, I gathered my belongings that were in the vehicle, positioned them so they would be easy to carry, and exited the car, leaving it in the middle of the road.
I laughed at the thought of the cars behind me honking when my car wasn't moving, only for their occupants to find out that the car was completely empty, and I had taken the keys.
I walked past several cars to the sidewalk, and then I began to jog.
Being in the shape that I am, I reached the hospital in no time, and walked up to the front desk.
I told the woman why I was there, and she told me where Trish's room was.
Leaving my stuff at the front desk, I headed over to the elevator and pushed the button with the 3 on it.
Once the doors opened, I stepped out and began to search for Trish's room, poking my head in random doors (I had already forgotten the room number).
However, I shouldn't have been doing this, because one of the rooms just happened to be currently being used as a makeshift delivery room.
Blood. Guts. Nasty stuff. Woman in an awkward position. I started feeling dizzy, and then everything went black.
I woke up some 40 minutes later lying face down on the floor. Stupid sons of snitches didn't even have the courtesy to put me face up, let alone in a bed or something.
Well, at least they didn't throw me in a dumpster. I'm all to use to waking up in those because of my frequent bad attitude in nightclubs.
It always seems to happen the same way. First I do something bad. (Usually getting in a bar fight or trying to dance with the strippers) Then I see a big buff guy that makes even me look like a three-year-old coming toward me. Then he hits me with something, (Usually a 2 by 4 board, stolen police baton, or his fist) and everything goes black. Finally, I wake up (sometimes stripped of my valuables and a couple times totally naked) in a dumpster.
But, again I feel I'm getting off topic, so lets get back to current events.
Anyway I continued wandering down the hallways trying to find Trish's room (Being much more careful which doors I opened), until I finally poked my head into a room and saw her sitting up in the bed.
I breathed a sigh of relief, very glad that I had finally made it, as I walked in.
"Chris Jericho where have you been and what on earth happened to your face?" Trish exclaimed as she looked at me, and it was obvious she was trying not to laugh.
"What? What's wrong with my face?" I asked her.
Still trying greatly not to giggle, she handed me a small mirror (equipped with makeup as well) that she pulled out of her purse, and said "Well Chrissy," (I don't know why she insists on calling me that) "there's always something wrong with your face. It's just… Wronger than usual.
"Wronger's not a word, Trishy." I replied, (sort of mocking her as well as correcting her) as I took the mirror and inspected my face.
My mouth dropped all the way to the floor when I saw myself.
Each cheek was unbelievably red, as if someone had put blush or something on them. I had pink, purple, and silver eyeliner, dark purple lipstick, and finally, written in fairly big letters across my forehead were the words, "Randy Orton Was Here."
"I didn't know you had become a cross dresser, Chris." Trish said to me, trying hard to sound serious, even though it was painfully obvious that she was trying desperately not to laugh. "There's umm… Nothing wrong with it, I just didn't know."
"Dangit Orton!" I yelled. "I'll kill you, you little punk!"
With that I turned and ran from the room, completely forgetting about Trish.
But somehow I don't think it mattered that my visit was extremely short; I'm pretty sure that just sight of me covered in makeup and with "Randy Orton Was Here" written across my forehead brightened her day.
I even believe I heard her laughing hysterically as I made my very quick exit.
Despite the fact that I was in a state of rage and trying to find and murder Randy Orton, a part of me still felt good that I had at least made HER happy.