Title: It's Disturbing, Eerie, Unnatural, and Just Plain Creepy
Disclaimer: I don't own things that other people own, i.e., stuff that is not mine.
Author's Note: This is in response to Blazer&Akila's challenge. So it's not my fault.
Shane Helms, Shannon Moore, and Evan Karaigas danced down the ramp. The men of 3-Count, wrestling's only boy band, starting singing, but were soon interrupted by the Hardyz entrance theme. But that too was cut off. And it was replaced by…
"Hey Los Angeles!" Matt pulled a Foley and elicited a cheap pop from the crowd. "We've come as your saviors. You don't have to listen to these wanna be Backstreet Boys [1] any more." Another cheer from the crowd.
"Yeah! Instead, you get to listen to us!" The entire audience groaned together, except for a few stray hyperventilating teenage female Hardy fans that screamed. Jeff laughed. "Naw, we wouldn't do that to y'all. But we had to do something about these guys," he said, pointing to the three men in the ring who were quietly stewing in the squared circle.
Well they would remain quiet no longer. "Listen, Hardy Boyz, we know you're just jealous of our talent," Evan said.
Matt scoffed. "Hah! Jealous! We'll show you. WCW's boy band, 3-count, vs. the WWF's boy band, still to be determined, at a singing ladder match, at Invasion!"
"We accept your challenge. You make your group, we got ours. Then we'll kick your butts, at Invasion!" Shannon declared, jumping on the ropes.
Jeff and Matt jumped off the stage and disappeared under the ramp. Meanwhile, X-Pac, Albert, and Tajiri made their way down to the ring for their match.
"You what?" To say that Lita was incredulous would be an understatement.
"You saw us. Man I was great. Did you see the look on Shannon's face? Man, I bet he thought he'd never see the day we dared to sing in public." To say that Jeff was enthusiastic about the idea would be an understatement.
"That's because Shannon's heard you sing. Jeff, Matt, I love you both to tears, but there's no way that you don't know how bad you are."
"Ahh, but you didn't look at the big picture," Matt said. He leaned back and spread his arms out, painting the picture in his mind. "The lights, the fireworks. The excitement of the crowd. Us, feeding off of their energy. And decorative necklaces, hanging above the ring, each engraved with a message. 'I am a member of wrestling's best boy band.'" There was a sparkle in his eye, as if the excitement was helping him forget the obstacles, like how tone deaf he was.
"And that's supposed to be something you're going to be proud of?"
"Hells yeah!" And Jeff bounced off the couch, landing in a crouched position on the floor. "Now alls wes gots to do is find the rest of the band. And that's easy." He exchanged a Significant Glance with his brother.
"I have to go…get some coffee now. 'And I run and I walk because I can't find a horse to ride there…'" Matt left the room, singing and skipping. Lita sighed. He looked like such an ass when he did that. She turned her attention to Jeff.
"So do I get included on the master plan?"
"Nope. Sorry Lita, but this is man business." Jeff was completely serious, which made Lita giggle. Well, it was sort of a combination giggle-snort-gag-laugh.
"You know, I didn't really want to know anyway." And she returned to stretching her leg, ignoring Jeff as he started to dye his hair.
He got through half of his head when Eddie walked in through the door. "Hey Jeff. I heard you and Matt out there. Is something wrong?"
"No, why should there be?"
"Well, essa, I've heard you sing before. I always figured that you'd want to avoid singing in public. Especially with the WWF's reputation on the line."
"Don't worry, man. We got it covered."
Eddie looked doubtful. "I sure hope so." He turned to leave, and Jeff resumed dying his hair. But on his way out, Eddie collided with Chris Jericho, who had been running to the Hardy locker room.
"Hey Jeff! Matt!"
Jeff whipped around, causing his hair to smack him across the face and splatter everyone else in the room. "Jesus, Jericho. You nearly scared the hair dye out of me."
"Sorry man, but I just saw what you guys went out and did in there." Jeff smiled proudly, which caused Jericho to look at him funny. "Well, I can sense that I can't talk you guys out of it…" Jeff shook his head, once again causing his hair to spatter dye across his chest and back. "…so I figured that I would offer my help."
"What makes you think that you can help?"
"Well, seeing as how I idolize Mongoose McQueen of Fozzy, I had surgery to get my voice to sound just like his. So I think I can help you guys out. A lot."
Jeff ignored this obvious insult and continued to dye his hair. Just then, Matt burst into the room.
"He's in!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. This time, Jeff got hit across the face with his wet hair, leaving a sort of purple-blue striped pattern on his face.
"Grr," he growled, looking frustrated with himself. As the rest of the room recovered from their fits of laughter, he quickly finished his hair and left to wash it out.
"He…he looked like a, a zebra…" Eddie managed to get out between chortles.
"A zebra gone terribly, terribly wrong," Jericho responded. Matt shrugged and carefully stepped over them before shoving them recklessly out of the room.
"Hey! Watch it, essa. That's no way to treat your self-appointed manager and agent."
"And who said that you were going to be our manager-slash-agent?"
"Oh. Okay. As long as you say so…" Matt trailed off, still looking doubtful.
"I do. Now, who's in?" Eddie continued, assuming the position of power quite nicely.
"Triple H."
"WHAT?!" This came from the general vicinity of Jericho, though it was hard to tell over the noise of someone yelling "what?!" very loudly.
"Yeah. Triple H." Jeff proceeded to explain as he reentered the room, vigorously toweling his head. "Every boy band has certain members. I'm the one with the crazy hair. Matt's the dark haired one. Trips is the guy that's not really cute but we let him in anyway. All we need now is the pretty blonde one."
"That would be me." Eddie eyeballed Jericho carefully.
"Fine. He's in. But that means you guys have 4 members. 3-Count has 3."
Matt looked horrified. "You're right. We can't have 4 members. Real boy bands have 5. Like, what's their faces…" He had a little trouble finding the right words.
"N*sync?"
"No, no…I said real boy bands…"
"Oh! The Backstreet Boys [2]!"
"Yes! Them. Thank you Jeff. Now, who are we missing?"
"Oh! Oh! I know!" Jeff was jumping up and down wildly, waving his arm in the air. "The punk ass with the lots of piercings."
An ominous silence filled the room as each of the 5 men thought.
And then, in a very quiet voice, Jeff suggested Albert.
Matt smacked him on the head and everyone returned to their thoughts.
"Jeff has a few peircings, doesn't he?" Jericho asked.
"Yeah," Matt replied, "but he can't be pierced and have crazy hair."
Then Eddie's face lit up. "See, boys, this is why you need me. This is why you hired me. The answer is easy. Test."
Matt thought about that for a few moments. "I dunno. He's still sort of a pretty boy, and he only has a few peircings."
"We're all pretty boys. Except maybe Triple H. Plus, it's not in the rule book that the punk has to be ugly, right?"
Eddie quickly consulted his copy of The Rules for Making a Boy Band, which he pulled out of nowhere. "A loophole!" he yelled. "See, I was right. All we need to do is get Test to pierce his lip and nose."
"That's easy. I'll go get him to do it." Jeff leapt up and left the room.
Matt explained. "He's the one who got Test to pierce his eyebrow in the first place."
Meanwhile…
"Hey honey. What was Matt doing in here?"
"You saw him?" Triple H had a funny look on his face, but Steph just figured it was the constipation. It had been bothering him for several weeks. She wanted him to go get looked at, but he had too much pride.
"Of course I saw him. He practically skipped all the way down the hall."
"Well, we were just talking, and … hey, did you see tonight's show?"
"Duh, silly. But what does that have to do with anything?"
"I'm in the boy band."
Steph was more than a little surprised but did her best not to show it. "That's nice dear," she said, patting him on the head. Then she left to take a shower, shaking her head at her husband's obvious lack of common sense. Trips stared at her.
"Well, she took that better than I thought she would." He returned to the magazine on his lap and squeezed every combination of muscles he could. He was now willing to try anything, as long as it would enable him to take a dump.
At Invasion:
"They're calling themselves the Backstreet Boys [3]?
Isn't that already taken?"
"No, no. Lillian said BAD Street Boys."
"Oh. Wait…it's six on three…that's not fair!"
"Who cares, J.R.? The WWF's good name is on the line
here!"
"I'm not so sure that winning this match will help the
WWF's image. Michael, this is just disturbing."
Michael Cole nodded, shuddering in agreement.
"And eerie."
"It's unnatural"
"And just plain creepy."
There was a 3 second pause in the commentary as the crowd watched 3-Count argue with "The Bad Street Boys."
"This portion of WWF Invasion was brought to you by
Carl's Jr. Where…"
"The match has just started, Cole. Shut up."
Michael acquiesced and focused on the match, which was being explained by Eddie.
"Listen people. You know who are individually. But this is the first (and hopefully only) time you will see these men working together towards a common goal as the BAD STREET BOYS. I am Eddie, the bossy irresponsible, and sexy as hell manager for the band. So let me introduce to you…" He trailed off and handed the mic to Matt.
"Matt Hardy. I like long walks on the beach and Thai food. I'm the dark haired one." He passed the mic along.
"Chris Jericho. Resident prima donna. I steal all the leads as the blond pretty boy. I dedicate this exclusive appearance to Mongoose McQueen and the boys of Fozzy. Fozzy forever, man!" Test had to wrench the mic from Jericho, who looked like he wanted to keep going.
"Tesht. I'm shorry if I shpit on you guysh, but my lipsh hurt. I guessh I don't make a very good punk assh," he said, trying not to irritate his swollen lip. He started tearing from the pain and wiped his nose, but howled in pain as the ring between his nostrils moved.
"Gee, J.R. How is he supposed to sing with a lip like
that?"
J.R. just shrugged and kept watching.
Now Triple H had the mic. "Hunter Hearst Helmsley. When I signed the contract, I was under the impression that I was to be the pretty boy. Instead I am the ugly one, so I think I will modify my role to include pouting, sulking, and trying to find a new agent." He glared at Eddie, who smiled innocently. "And I would like the thank my wife who is, so far, our only groupie." He smiled at Steph, who was standing at ringside. She waved at him and started bouncing up and down and hyperventilating. Soon she was screaming and shaking with excitement. Howard Finkel rushed to her aid as Jeff started talking.
"I am Nero. I do weird things to my hair. I idolize the guy with the braids in N*SYNC, the guy with the dreadlocks in O-Town, and the afro boy in N*SYNC. Unfortunately, I have no counterpart in the boy band gods known as the Backstreet Boys [4], but I will make do." He dropped the mike and ripped off his shirt, eliciting screams from all around the arena.
Then 3-Count made their way down. As WWF fans, we don't really care what they have to say, but I will mention that they complained about their number disadvantage but resolved to knock them away anyway.
The bell rang and the singing competition began. 3-count remained on the stage, but sang and danced to their song, Can't Get You Outta My Heart. And when they finished, there was a spectacular fireworks display.
And as the mixture of applause and boos died down, Eddie, who had remained in the ring with the band, grabbed a mic again. "Oops. Sorry, essa, but I forgot to mention the other 5 members of our band. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for punk A.J., ugly Howie, pretty boy Nick, dark haired Kevin, and weird hair (well he did have that roman thing going on) Brian! Together they are…the Backstreet Boys [5]!"
And as he spoke, the band made their way down through the audience. They sang their song [pick a song, any song. I don't care] and then milled around ringside while Stephanie practically brained herself on the steel steps, she was so excited.
"And now the judges, who heard the whole thing from backstage. Introducing first, WWF Senior Official, Earl Hebner! Next, Chairman of the WWF, Vince McMahon. Next, WWF Champion, Stone Cold Steve Austin. And finally, introducing fourth through sixty first, the rest of the active WWF roster!" Everyone made their way down and the area grew steadily more crowded.
"Hmm," Eddie muttered quietly. "Maybe I didn't think this out quite as thoroughly as I should have."
But Test overheard him. "No you didn't, did you. You jusht sthought you could cram all theshe people down here, didn't you. Shome manger-shlash-agent. We should jusht fire you!"
Eddie just stared. "Sorry, essa, but I didn't understand a word you just 'shaid.'" He laughed, but he laughed alone.
"Then let me translate for Test," Matt said into the time, clarifying the situation for the audience. "You're fired!"
Everyone gasped at the same time while the members of the band got into an argument. But Vince soon entered the ring to clear matters up.
"It doesn't matter that Eddie's not your manager anymore. But I did notice that there were no judges from the WECW faction, so, in the interest of fairness, let me make my children, Shane and Stephanie McMahon, honorary judges for this competition. And because they won't be able to make their way to ringside, let's just assume that they are bull headed and judge in favor of 3-Count." He pointed to the three men who were struggling to breath among the throng of people surrounding them. "Therefore, I am proud to announce that the Bad Street Boys win the singing portion of the competition." With that, everyone turned to leave the area surrounding the ring, ramp, and stage.
3-Count angrily made their way to the ring and started yelling at the five men in the ring. Meanwhile, the real boy band stood on the apron and pretended to want in on the fight.
The argument in the ring soon came to blows, but Shane, Shannon, and Evan soon felt the effect of the numbers. Not wanting to disappoint the audience, Jeff and Matt took out the ladders. They set them up in the middle of the ring and started to climb. Meanwhile, Triple H sat of Evan, keeping him down. Chris Jericho and A.J. were beating on Shannon outside of the ring. Jericho was surprised when the singer came down to help him, but hey, A.J. is the "punk," right? Right.
That left Test with Shane. The WCWer fought to reach Test's face, his obvious weak point, but Test just held his head at arms length. He laughed, albeit with incredible amounts of pain and looked at the Hardyz' progress. Matt was already collecting some of the necklaces, but he had to get all ten to win. He looked a little queasy but kept going.
Jeff, on the other hand, stood on top of a forty-foot ladder, posing for the crowd. He knew that the crowd wanted something crazy from him, and he was willing to give it. He also knew that this fracas wasn't going to be much of a match, so he had to make up for that. Couple that with the fact that his team was completely dominating over 3-Count, Jeff grinned and launched himself off the ladder.
Into the audience.
And then he started crowd surfing across the entire arena.
Well, until security stopped him and forced him back to the ring.
But the match was over and the Bad Street Boys had won. But Triple H remained on top of Evan while Steph gushed at his side. Jericho had started beating on a helpless Shannon with the ring bell. And A.J. was giving Test help removing his nose and lip rings. Shane was nowhere to be found.
Well, until you looked under the ring, where he was talking to Eddie. Both of them had grown tired of the childish antics of the Bad Street Boys and Shane had just agreed to take on Eddie's services.
"Trust me, essa, this is one decision you won't regret." Eddie shook hands with Shane and began immediately planning the band's future. "But what I really want to do is direct."
Additional Author's Note: I don't know, so don't ask. I started writing this a while ago, but the ending just came to me. And instead of being a good writer and reading it over, I choose to be scared of what came out of my brain and present it to you unedited. I'm sorry. I hope you will forgive me. The ending confuses me, but the whole thing confused me. Anyway, I need to stop rambling so…there you go. I hope you enjoyed this little ride of mine, and please don't be afraid to tell me how this chaos I choose to call a story has had a life-altering effect on you. Or don't. Whatever. And to Blazer&Akila, I'm sorry for completely butchering everything. I said I would stop rambling didn't I? Oh well, I guess I lied.
Also, I hope all of you appreciate how much research I put into this. I had to find out the names of the Backstreet Boys and categorize them and all this stuff. Grr.