Title: Forks

Summary: Adam can't seem to find any forks…where oh where did all the forkys go? Where oh where could they be? You stole them! EVILLLLL. Read and I'll forgive you! Yayy crack!

Disclaimer: I own the wife, WWE is owned by Vince McMahon.

-Start-

"Hey, honey." Adam Copeland walked into the room, his wife took her eyes from the computer screen. Her brown eyes locked with his green ones. "Where are all the forks?"

"In the sink?"

He shook his head. "No, they're not. I don't know where they are."

"Babe, I'm busy. I have to work on getting this to my publisher. My deadline is in an hour. I'm sure you can use a plastic fork."

"No, no I can't."

She shrugged. "Well, not my problem. It's not like I make all the forks magically disappear." She turned back to the computer and began typing.

"Do I have to go to the store and buy more forks?"

"I don't know, you could always look for them."

"I tried that, babe or else I wouldn't be up here. And, I'm pretty sure if I call their name they won't answer."

"Did you try?" his wife giggled.

"…Um…here, forky, forky!" he called sarcastically. "It didn't work."

The woman frowned. "What a disappointment."

"Help me find them."

"Didn't I tell you I have a deadline? Just because you take off from the WWE. Doesn't mean I have to take off from writing. I'm sorry honey but I can't make this deadline if I take time out to look for forks."

"Okay fine, but when I find them, I'll just hide them from you. Then you can be the one asking for forks and I'll be the one with a grin on my face watching one of my classic Edge and Christian matches and not helping you look for them."

"I'll use plastic forks. Doesn't bother me."

"I'll throw those out."

"Don't you be wastin' my money."

"Ohh, lookie. My wife's getting ghetto."

"Excuse me. Adam if you want ghetto, I'll get ghetto. Do I needs to bust a cap in yo ass?"

"Eh?"

"Ohh, lookie. My husband's getting Canadian." She mocked.

"You know what…I'm so insulted I'm speechless."

"If you have nothing to say then I'd like to get back to my writing."

"Fine, I'm going…I'm gone." He folded his arms and stood there.

"Adios."

"Now you're going Hispanic on me…I just don't know you anymore."

"Get out!" she yelled, soon Adam left her office.

--

"So, did you ever find the forks?" His wife walked into the kitchen almost an hour and fourteen minutes later.

Adam shook his head. "Nope, did you make your deadline, Tiff?"

"Sure did." Tiffany Copeland walked over to the sink looking around. "What did you need a fork for?"

"Cereal."

She turned sharply to him and rolled her eyes. "No, I'm serious."

"Me too…"

"Cereal is used with a damn spoon. Not a fork."

"I'm not a milk person."

"Then don't put milk on the cereal." Tiffany turned back towards the counter.

"I don't like it dry, you know that."

"Yup. I do." Tiffany's hand grasped the handle to the dishwasher and pulled it opened. She removed her hand and walked to her husband.

"Didn't you look for the forks?"

"Yeah." Tiffany kissed his cheek and then pressed the side of her face to his, she whispered into his ear. "Did you check the dishwasher?"

"Of course, babe."

She pulled back from him and raised an eyebrow. "Liar. The forks are in there. So tell me, what did you want with me?"

"Eh?" He tried to look innocent.

"Baby, don't play games. Tell me the truth."

"I wanted…attention." He confessed.

Tiffany giggled before taking her husband's hand in hers. "Attention you want…attention you'll get."

-End-

--

A/n: Just random, lol. So, what do you think? Review please!