Somebody on the internet told me to do this. I apologize for nothing.

-…-

Vanna was pouting again, and nothing Pat could do would console her. He tried again with chocolate.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he coaxed. She stuffed the chocolate down with a sniff and shrugged prettily.

"C'mon, sweetie, give me a clue!" he begged. She turned her glittering eyes on him.

"Sure!" she said shrilly. "It starts with a P and contains two L's! Would you like to buy a vowel?"

Pat frowned. "E."

She crossed her arms and shook her head, her earrings jangling. He thought for a long time.

"A." He guessed. She sat up and jabbed his chest with one long fingernail.

"Ding ding ding! That Paula bitch is getting on my nerves, Patty, all sunshine and rainbows! You just march right over there to their set and show her what for!"

Pat shook his head, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "Now, baby, you know I'm sworn to never use my kung fu on innocents…"

"Paula Abdul is no innocent!" shrieked Vanna. "You go show her what for RIGHT NOW!"

Pat sighed. "Yes, baby." He mumbled.

-…-

On the set of American Idol, Paula was adjusting her dentures one final time to make sure their artificial sparkle was perfect. She turned to Ryan and flashed him a grin. He gave her a thumbs up and chugged a bottle of Nyquil. Paula sighed. Poor guy needed more and more to get through the show.

That was when Pat Sajak burst through the ceiling in a ninja mask, warbling a death song and flinging shuriken into the walls. Paula shrieked and dodged underneath the judge's table, which shook as pointy missiles struck its top with deadly force.

Pat landed silently on the floor and rolled out of sight.

All was silent.

After several minutes Paula, shaken, got out from under the table and looked around in horror. Then she saw Ryan—laying gasping on the floor in a pool of his own blood, punctured with shuriken. She ran to his side and knelt by him, careful to avoid the blood.

Only to get covered in the stuff when he coughed a lungful into her face. She recoiled in horror, but quickly recovered to lean over him again.

"Pat…Sajak." He gasped. "An…assassination attempt. Not safe…" And with that he died.

Paula stood and looked down at him. "You think we don't know that?" she whispered. "This feud has gone on longer than you know, Ryan. Longer than you've been alive, American Idol and Wheel of Fortune have battled. But today…today this comes to an end."

"Sure does." Growled a voice from a ceiling. Paula looked up in shock to see Pat drop silently—only to be intercepted in midair by Simon, who was wielding a twelve foot katana in his left hand. They dropped to the ground and stood facing each other.

"Get out of here, Paula, you useless twit." Growled Simon. "You don't know kung fu. You can't fight. You must flee. Flee for your miserable life."

Paula dashed for the door, only to have it burst open before she reached it, revealing a red-faced Vanna White.

"BITCH!" screamed Vanna. "YOU DIE TODAY!"

She yanked a fourteen foot war pole from under her sequined dress and brandished it at Paula, who gaped in horror. Fortunately for Paula's continued breathing, Randy blocked Vanna's sudden wild attack with his nun-chucks.

"Randy!" Paula gasped, hiding herself behind him. "Where have you been?"

"Just waiting for the right moment, dawg." He growled. He brandished his holy nun-chucks at Vanna, who hissed in aversion.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Pat and Simon were facing off with steely glares. The American Idol host broke the silence first.

"Simon says die." He growled. He launched himself at Pat, who dodged Simon's twelve-footer with difficulty.

"I don't like that game!" he protested. He flung some shuriken at Simon, who deflected them with his magnificent blade.

"Apparently you don't like fighting like a man, either." Growled Simon. "Because you throw like a girl."

Pat narrowed his eyes. It was on.

He ran at Simon, who sidestepped easily, only to realize too late that Pat wasn't aiming for him—the other host ran up the wall behind him all the way up to the ceiling, flinging himself off at the very top to fall spread-eagled like a glorious falling flying squirrel. Simon tried to dodge first one way, then the other, but Pat seemed to follow him in his fall, shrieking madly.

They collided with a force measuring at the top of the Richter scale, sending gale force winds whipping about the room, debris and dust flying everywhere.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Vanna and Paula were knocked down by the winds. Randy pushed Paula out of the way.

"Get out of here, Paula! Her evil can't stand my sacred nun's-chucks! They're made with real nun-bones!"

Vanna shrieked in horror and Paula tried to take advantage of distraction to try to get away, but Vanna was having none of it. She flung herself at Paula with a shriek that some astronauts heard from space, which greatly confused them. They considered calling Houston to ask about it, but they were Russian astronauts and didn't want to give away the fact that they were secretly American astronaut spies over a few space-noises. They were thankful for this prudence later when they found out it had just been Vanna White again.

Meanwhile, back on the American Idol set, Vanna started spinning her fourteen foot war pole to ward Randy off, but she got it going too fast and it began to lift her towards the ceiling.

"Pat!" she shrieked. "Help me!"

Pat spun away from Simon, who stood groggily, still a little shook from impact and now questioning his sexuality. It had been a very violent impact.

Pat launched himself at the wall again, determined to reach Vanna before it was too late, but Simon shook off the last of his lethargy and ran for him, brandishing his katana with a howl. Pat blocked it with a dagger he pulled from his belt, doing the same with all of Simon's successive, faster attacks. He laughed wickedly.

"Simon, you fool, you could never beat me!" he roared. He brandished his dagger. Randy started to leap toward to Simon, knowing he would be far too late.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—" he started to howl, but Simon cut him off with a hand gesture and turned back to Pat.

"There's something you don't know about me, Pat." He growled. "I'm not left-handed."

And with that he flipped his twelve foot katana into his right hand and viciously stabbed Pat, whose eyes widened in an eternal frozen moment. Then he puffed into smoke.

"Damn ninja." Simon muttered. A howl from the ceiling distracted him.

"Randy!" he shouted. "Get Vanna, hurry, before she escapes through the hole Pat left up there when he came in!"

"I'm on it, dawg." Growled Randy. Brandishing his religious nun's-chucks, he leapt straight up into the air and latched onto Vanna's ankle with one hand. He spun his chucks in the other, about to go Tanya Harding style on her knees, but then he made the mistake of looking up.

Up, under her dress.

Up, past the sequins.

Up, into hell.

He screamed and let go, crashing into a heap on the floor. Vanna disappeared into the sky, cackling wildly.

All was silent once more.

Until Simon threw his katana down and swore up a censored for TV storm while Randy staggered to his feet, helped by Paula.

Paula walked over and patted Simon on the back. "It's not that bad." She said soothingly. "We can repair the room, and we'll get them someday."

"Like I care about the room!" snarled Simon. He gestured at Ryan's corpse. "Who the bloody hell are we going to get to host this nightmare now that he's dead? Bob Barker?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Sniffed Paula. "We're a classy show. We can't have a zombie host. We'll get Stephen Colbert to do it. He loves this stuff."

"What, kung fu?" questioned one of the cameramen.

"That too."