"Fuck, Randy, how did you get in trouble for this?" John Morrison sighed, leaning back on the couch of Randy Orton's hotel room.
Randy inhaled the last puff of the blunt he was smoking. After he exhaled, he said, "I don't get caught anymore. I'm not stupid. I learned from my mistakes. And this, my boys, is certainly not a mistake."
"You're damn right it's not," Mike Mizanin concurred. He frowned when he finished his smoke. "Hey, Orton, do you have any more of this?"
Randy raised himself off of his hotel bed and pulled a bag with an ounce of weed in it from his pocket. He held it up to show the other two. "Of course I have more. Do you think I'm retarded?"
"That is open to interpretation, Orton. After all, you're the one that got in trouble for this shit in the first place," John said.
"Hey, hey, hey, do not question my methods," Orton said. "Hey, Miz, toss me the WWE Magazine out of my bag, will you?"
"Yeah," he agreed. Groggily, Mike walked to the duffel bag and pulled out a stack of issues of WWE Magazines. "Which one do you want?"
"The one with me on the cover," John quickly interjected.
"Fucker, you're not on any of the covers," Mike spat back. "Randy?"
"The one with me on the cover, naturally," Randy said in a monotone voice.
"Uh, Orton, this one feels a little empty," Miz noted as he held the magazine that Randy had requested.
Randy chuckled. "Hand it over and you'll see."
Mike tossed the magazine on Randy's bed so Randy could reach it and took his seat next to John on the couch.
Randy opened the magazine. John and Mike saw that many of the pages were ripped up and pieces were taken out.
Randy looked up at the other two men. "I've been saving this one for a special occasion, but that special occasion has never arrived." He turned to a full-page advertisement featuring John Cena. He quickly ripped the page out of the magazine and into three long pieces. He filled up each piece of paper with the adequate amount of drugs, rolling up the paper and licking it shut.
Randy extended his arm to Morrison who was the closest to him and handed him two blunts, one of which was quickly handed to Mike.
"To wrestling with talent," John toasted as if they were at a wedding reception, congratulating the bride and groom.
The three wrestlers lit their lighters and set their blunts on fire for another round of drug infested insanity.
"Fuck, what time is it?" Randy gasped after he woke up.
"Orton, shut up," John pleaded, wanting to go back to sleep.
"AHHHHHHH!" Mike screamed after he woke up from Randy's outburst.
"What?" Randy and John simultaneously asked.
"Why am I waking up on a couch with Morrison?"
"Aw, man, get off of me!" John yelled, pushing Mike's head off of his shoulder.
"Shut up and go get me some food," Randy demanded, rolling over and pulling the covers tightly over his body.
"Orton, it's three in the morning. Where are we going to get food?" Mike asked.
"You know, there is such a thing as 24-hour pharmacies. They have food," Randy suggested. "Besides, aren't you two hungry?"
"Well, now that you mention it…" John sighed, rubbing his shirt that concealed his perfect abs. "But why do we have to go?"
"I supplied the weed. You supply the feed," Randy said in a clever rhyme.
"Fuck it. Let's go," Mike said, getting up off of the couch and pulling Mike with him.
"GET ME SOME SKITTLES!" Randy yelled after the two as they left the room, a little too loudly for three in the morning at a hotel.
"Did Orton say he wanted Skittles?" John asked as he and Miz entered the first 24-hour store they could find in the small town they were in.
"I think he did. But what kind do we get him? I mean, we could be jackasses and get him the sour ones. Just imagine the look on his face when he pops those fuckers in his mouth and doesn't know that they're sour until he tastes them."
"Mike, there's such a thing as a label on food items."
"Well, I was thinking if he was like still half asleep…" Mike said sheepishly. "Gah, I'm fucking hungry."
"To the snack aisle!" John declared as if he was leading a major expedition.
The store was almost deserted, save for the single cashier, security guard, and two girls in the snack aisle.
"Okay, what do we want?" John asked himself.
"Cheese popcorn," Mike said, grabbing a large bag off the shelf.
"That's not good food to eat when you're baked!" John said.
"Are you two idiots?" one of the girls who were in the aisle with them asked.
"Excuse me?" John said, raising his eyebrows at the girls.
The two girls quickly walked over to them. The other one answered in a hushed voice, "It's really not the best idea to admit that you're fucking stoned in a store with a security guard, you know."
"You understand our tribulations?" Mike asked, smiling at the girls.
"We're kind of in the same situation. We're hungry, out of drugs, and we're fucking bored," the first one said.
"Don't worry, Keagan, we can get more weed," the other girl answered.
"You're right, Molly."
"So, you're Molly?" John asked the girl with red hair and brown eyes.
"And you're Keagan?" Mike asked the girl with black hair and green eyes.
"Yep, I'm Molly. And that's Keagan. And you are?"
"I'm John and this is Mike," John introduced. "So, uh…We have a friend waiting for us, and—"
"His Skittles can wait," Mike interrupted. "They look like more fun. So, did you two ladies say you could get more, shall I say, festive items?"
The two girls laughed. "Um, yeah, it's not that hard. Why? Do you want to hang out?" Molly answered.
"Yeah, that'd be great," Mike said.
"But Randy," John whispered in Mike's ear.
"Excuse me, girls, I just need to have a conference with my friend over here," Mike smiled, pulling John to the side as the girls continued shopping. "Dude, are you gay? Do you want to hang out with these chicks? Or would you rather stare at Randy while he sleeps?"
"Well, if you put it that way…"
"Molly, why do you want dark chocolate?" Keagan asked as Mike and John approached him. Molly eyed John and whispered something in Keagan's ear, causing Keagan to laugh. "Wow, Molly, I'm surprised I didn't guess that."
"Guess what?" John asked.
"Nothing," Molly shrugged. "Ready to go?"
"Er…Yeah," John answered. "Are we driving?"
Keagan's eyes widened at John's offer. "Hell no. Sorry, John, but you look like a slow driver. I can't stand that. I'm driving."
"I am not a slow driver!" John argued.
"Save your breath," Molly said to John. "To her, everyone is a slow driver. They haven't built a car fast enough to satisfy her. She always drives, no matter what."
"Aw, man!" Mike whined.
Keagan rolled her eyes and pulled her keys out her pocket. "Let's go."
The group paid for their items. John and Mike hopped back in their car and Keagan and Molly walked around the corner to their car. They would follow the boys to the hotel so they could drop their things off.
"Better give Orton his Skittles before we go," John suggested.
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea."