The sun was scorching hot outside and it made mirages in the road. The two men seated inside the air conditioned car could definitely feel the light shine through the wind shields. Their sun visors were no where to be found, but who could they blame? It was a rental car.
The drinks inside the cooler were half way gone; the only thing that could quench their thirst. The only thing keeping them on the line of consciousness. The driver squinted his eyes, in desperate need of sun glasses, and looked on for any sign of where they were headed.
Vince McMahon had told them that they were needed at a house show in Louisiana, but judging from where they were, they could kiss Louisiana good-bye. God only knows, what'll Vince do when he gets his hands on them.
"Take a left in a quarter of a mile." Randy said in unison, trying to understand where the map was pointing.
"You told me that an hour ago." John exclaimed, looking over in his best friend's direction. Immediately he noticed the problem and just then he regretted ever letting Randy direct him. "Try flipping the map around."
A blush filled Randy's cheeks and he flipped it around, mumbling apologies. Randy had thought the words were Swedish of some sorts and now realizing he could make out the words, they were actually heading in the opposite direction of where they needed to be.
"What have you done?" John moaned out, pulling to the side of the deserted road, having no reason to keep driving and continue on their 'little' journey.
"So, when in doubt, stop the car and complain?" Randy asked.
John un-buckled in his seat and turned his whole entire body to face Randy's. He glared at his friend as if a deer caught in headlights and sighed once again. "You got any better idea? We certainly missed the show and I don't know about you, but I don't feel like driving another 8 hours."
"Then let's stay in a motel or something." Randy said, obviously unaware of where the were.
"Hey Sherlock, if you haven't noticed already, we're in the middle of nowhere, and we'll probably die in a matter of minutes from dehydration." John replied, sarcastically.
Even through the sweat, that slicked their vision, both men couldn't help but notice something big in the distant. Something closely resembling a hotel, but certainly their eyes had to be deceiving them. Just a few seconds ago, nothing was in sight.
"Do you really think . . ?" Randy began.
Finishing Randy's thought, John said, "Let's find out." He quickly turned around and put the car in drive, gaining speed fast, thinking if he slowed down to look, it'd disappear right before them. It wasn't showing any signs of vanishing out of mid air, so as soon as they entered the isolated parking lot, it felt like heaven.
Quickly exiting the car, they made their way towards the glass doors. MP was written in bold letters across the frames and as they swung open the doors, it made an eerie squeak. Randy and John shivered, but shook the feeling from their bodies, as cold air smacked their faces.
They observed the inside of the somewhat old hotel, noticing some cob webs in corners and underneath cushioned chairs. "Hello?" John called out, looking around for a main desk, or for something much better; a person.
"Hello, young ones. We've been waiting for you two." Came a voice, from behind them.
Gulping down air, the young wrestlers turned around awkwardly. The man looked well over 50. He had on a tuxedo, neatly cut at the hems, with shiny shoes. His bald spot added a richer affect to him, and his gray hairs brightened his features.
"We?" John asked, wide eyed.
"Waiting?" Randy included, just as awe struck as his friend.
"Yes, we were all waiting. No need to be shocked, we wait everyday. Well, my staff and I." The strange man said, ushering us towards a counter.
He looked up from his saggy eyes and asked, "How long will your stay be, boys?"
"One day." Randy said, rather quickly than he intended to.
The old man pouted and it only seemed to make him look older. "You can't expect to be here one day and meet everyone."
John and Randy passed glances and John replied, "We're not supposed to be over on this side of the town anyways. Just book it, one day. We'll pay in cash."
"Everyone is dying to meet you, though." The old man persuaded, not resting till he received a better answer.
"I only have a 100 dollar bill and I know Randy here, is broke." John said, looking at the money, with a sad expression, but don't let it fool you.
"No need for money. You can pay us back in a better way." The man said with a smirk. "By the way, I'm Marvin Paisley. Laurie, bags please."
Before John or Randy could say their bags were inside their car, a short chubby woman entered the main lobby with a smile. Don't let that fool you either. Her hair was black and choppy at the ends, her dark make-up standing out even more, and Laurie's maid suit, adding more of the fat effect to her appearance.
"Nice to meet you." Both of the guys said in politeness, while she bowed, disappearing outside, only entering minutes later, with bags slung across her body.
"Let me help you with that." John said, reaching for his luggage.
She flinched away from his touch and let out a strangled shriek. John put his hands up in defense and apologized, letting her carry their bags to their room. "Room 13!" The elderly man, called out.
Laurie, Randy, and John disappeared up the small steps towards their room. Randy whispered out the corner of his mouth, "How the hell are we suppose to 'pay him back' without money?"
"I don't know." John whispered back. They stopped in front of the door and opening it without a key, they entered the room. It was a average sized room and it had only one bed, with one light, and one television. Not forgetting the tiled bathroom.
"Call me if you need anything."
The superstars were too in thought, to hear anything else around them, so when they went to thank Laurie, shock over-whelmed them.
"Oh, forget it." Randy groaned out, falling onto the comforter.
John sat next to Randy and asked, "Is it just me or does this place give you the chills?"
Randy sat up and crossed his legs Indian style. "Yeah . . something's not right about this place."
"Do you even know how many days we're staying?" John asked, slightly paranoid.
Randy shook his head 'no' and replied, "Don't worry about it, we'll figure something out tomorrow." Just then there was a soft knock on the door and both men ushered whoever it was inside.
The door opened to reveal a man in his 20's. A slightly gay man. Randy and John's eyes bulged from their sockets and John coughed, hiding the fact of embarrassment. Randy looked away, not able to meet the younger man's eyes.
"Hey dolls, I've come to introduce myself to our newest guests." He winked. He pushed Randy and John over, sliding in the middle, making his booty shorts, slide even higher.
"I'm Richard, but you can call me dick." He was leaning onto Randy, making Randy feel very uncomfortable. Both men laughed nervously and Randy stood up, adjusting his muscled shirt.
"Yeah, uhm, nice to meet you." Randy said, begging John with his eyes to do something; anything.
'You owe me big time.' John mouthed, wrapping his arm around Richard's(dick's) shoulder.
Richard looked down and grasped John's hand. "It's sooo big. You know what they say about guys with big hands." Yes, indeed, he was certainly flirting. Randy choked on his saliva and John sent him death glares.
"Don't you choke now, it's not polite in front of guests." He said towards Randy.
"Okay . . I think it's time you head out, we need to uhm shower and uh that stuff." John ushered.
"Don't let me stop you." Dick informed, standing up and opening the door. He stuck his butt out and looked over his shoulder. No one was looking at him. He huffed and exited the door with a rough slam.
"He was most definitely coming onto you!" Randy laughed.
"Shut the fuck up! You owe me something remember?" John reminded him.
"It can't be as bad as that. So spit it out. I can handle it."
A huge smile covered the face of John Cena. "We're going to stay here for an attire week."
Randy's eyes narrowed and he silently agreed. "We've just got to forget out what Marvin wants." John said, mostly to himself.
"Well, what I want is sleep." Randy said, climbing underneath the covers, not bothering to take off his dirty shoes. John removed his shirt and climbed into bed.
"This is just a tad bit awkward." Randy stated.
"Oh, go to bed." John snapped.
They laid there for a few minutes, begging for sleep to over take them, and soon it fell upon them. Yet, they couldn't shake off the feeling of someone watching their every move.
*************(Next Morning)*************
Randy awoke in his even dirtier clothes, slightly confused at where he was. Though, as he continued to think, he remembered the former events from yesterday. Old man, freaky maid, gay dude. Oh yeah, he almost forgot! One week in this shit hole.
Sitting up, he stretched, and looked around the room, noticing John was nowhere to be found. He rubbed the back of his neck, and it just so happens, his armpits grazed his face. His odor met his nostrils and he gagged at the smell.
He got up and made his way to the bathroom, taking a leak, being stepping out of his clothes and turning the knob for a shower on. Once Luke warm, he stepped in and allowed the water to splash along his body.
Quickly scrubbing himself with the soap and rag provided, he turned it off, allowing the steam to rush out and clog up the mirror.
Wiping off the vapor on the glass mirror, he looked at himself, sighing when he noticed bags underneath his eyes. 'We can't have this, can we?' He said to himself. Turning the warm nozzle on the sink on, he soaked it in hot water, and rung it out. He pressed it to his face for a few seconds and slowly dragged it away from his face.
What he saw in the mirror, made his neck hair go on end, and a shiver trail up his spine. He turned around, scared for his life, and whimpered once he met the girls' eyes. Her skin was rotting and it made Randy cough, his lungs not allowing that type of air enter his body.
She smiled up at him, one that made his skin crawl. Her eyes were leaking blood, and roaches, along with hairy spiders, climbed out her hair, entering her mouth.
"Oh shit." Randy cursed, rubbing at his eyes. It was only in his imagination. Oh what a twisted and demented imagination he had. As he continued to scrub at his eyes, she began to melt. Melting, and then she was gone.
Randy didn't even bother to put on any clothes. He ran out the door and down the hall, with a towel wrapped smugly across his waist. He was screaming John's name, all the way down the steps.
He found his friend leaning against the counter, talking to Marvin. So many emotions were going through his mind, and he wanted to do so many things. Scream, cry, faint, have a heart attack. He was certainly pale and when John saw him, he immediately came and made Randy sit in a chair.
"What the hell happened to you?" John asked, panic rising in his voice.
Randy's mouth opened to say something, but there were roaches coming out and through his lips. He screamed through a mouthful of roaches to 'get them off!' and he was being roughly shaken.
"Get what off!?" John replied.
Randy stopped moving and felt his lips. He looked at John with terror in his eyes and John said, "You're starting to freak me out."
Marvin Paisley was standing on the side of John and Randy, listening intently.
"Freak you out! Freak you out!" Randy screamed. John backed off as Randy stood up. "I just went to hell and back in our room!"
"What are you talking about?" John asked, confused.
Suddenly, the eldest of the men stepped between Randy and John, cutting off any more communication. "That is enough. We will not discuss this anymore. Obviously, Randal here, had a nightmare."
"Or he forgot to take his meds." John snickered.
"But . . But." Randy tried to speak.
Marvin held his bony hand to Randy's face to quiet him down. "I said enough." The man's tone was unnecessary.
"Fuck off crazy bastard! You don't understand what I just went through! She . . She was dead or close to it." Randy cried out, only feeling the need to move far far away from this place as he possibly could.
"Randy." John stated, in tone telling him that was very impolite.
"You know what. Screw you too Cena!" Randy yelled, having no idea what he was suppose to do.
"Mr. Paisley, please let Randy explain. I can help him, if you allow him to tell me."
"I said no." He growled.
John was a taken back. What was so wrong about Randy discussing what happened? John really didn't feel like beating someone up today, especially an old man. He looked at the man and then dragged Randy back to the hotel room.
"We have camera's and we have ears." The old man yelled.
Ignoring Marvin, Randy whispered, "Even if I can't tell you what happened, I certainly can tell you, something evil is lurking in this place, and I have a feeling, it doesn't like visitors. We need to get the fuck out of here."
A/N - I hope you liked this chapter guys. Review and expect an update every week. :)