Disclaimer: I do not own Chris Jericho or anything else pretaining to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am just a fan; and I am not profiting from writing this piece. Fozzy owns the lyrics on this page.


Chris was moseying down each aisle at Wal-Mart, solemnly pushing his empty shopping-cart. He somehow managed to find himself in the aisle that was largely comprised of feminine products. He picked up a box of his ex-wife's preferred tampon brand and was just about to put it into the cart, but realized what he was doing and stopped himself.

Chris looked at the box and groaned as he put it back. He was beginning to wonder if he would ever get used to shopping for just him and his children. When did he become this man? Better yet, how did he become this man?

"Get it together, Chris." He grumbled as he glared at the tampon boxes.

Marriage had been a blessing and harder than any bump he had taken inside a wrestling ring, but he had no regrets.

The hardest part of moving on was having the will to do so. At first, he wasn't sure if he wanted to move on; he had settled quite comfortably into the family-man mindset and wasn't sure if he could brave the world as a bachelor again. Luckily, he didn't have to dwell on it too long. It was Jay to the rescue with two women for him, one on each arm.

Chris managed to tear his eyes away from the other products and continued down the aisle. Coming toward him, with her head turned to the right and reading various labels on some items, was Rosalind. She was still in her waitressing uniform—a white, collared blouse and black dress pants—but her hair brunette hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail.

"Hey there, stranger," Chris said with a smile. "Spending that tip money already, are we?"

Rosalind jerked her head up. She stared at him a moment. "Chris? What are you doing here?"

"Shopping...Well, I'm more or less doing something to pass the time."

Rosalind pulled her cart to a stop. She was standing several feet away from him. It looked almost as though she thought that he had some kind of contagious disease and she didn't want to catch it. Was he still staggering or something? Perhaps she felt embarrassed about grabbing a box of maxi pads while he was standing right there. With that thought in mind, he moved to one side and slowly moved along.

"Your date finally showed up."

Chris stopped and turned around, only to find that Rosalind was standing behind him. Instead of reaching for maxi pads, she was picking up a bottle of shampoo.

"I just thought you might want to know that," she said as he stared at her blankly. "She showed up about five minutes or so after you left."

"How comforting," Chris muttered, sarcastically.

Rosalind ignored the curtness in his tone. "She should have at least called or something. If I were her, I would have."

"If you were her, I doubt we would be having a date in Wal-Mart."

Rosalind looked down at the floor, and smiled, "Oh, I wouldn't say that...I'm a pretty cheap date."

Chris chuckled. He reached the end of the aisle and then stopped.

Rosalind took that as an invitation to join him, so she gathered what other products she needed and strolled up beside him. The two continued moving.

"Where to?" Chris asked as they scurried down one aisle and up the next.

"Ummm...I need a few snacks. Chips, dip—that kind of thing," she replied.

"Snack aisle it is."

She wondered if Chris ate snacks. It was a silly thought, but she had been his waitress for almost a year and half, and she couldn't even recall him ordering dessert. He had a great physique and gorging himself with cookies and cakes would ruin it; so she assumed he was on a strict diet like most athletes. Still, she felt the need to explain herself once they reached the endless aisle of empty calories. Since she had made a failed attempt to grovel tonight, maybe the explanation would be to her benefit.

"My nephew's birthday is in a couple of weeks." She said as she picked up two large bags of regular potatoes chips and tossed them into her cart. "I saw that the snacks and stuff were on sale, so I thought I'd swing by after my shift."

Chris gave an understanding nod.

Rosalind got a large jar of salsa and put it in the chart as well. She briefly looked up to find that Chris was staring at her...a little too intensely. She gripped the handle of her chart nervously and forged onward.

"I really hate asking you this," she began, looking down as she spoke, "because I don't want you to think I'm using you. I was going to ask you after you're date tonight, but you seemed upset. So I didn't want to bother you, but—"

"Your nephew is a really big wrestling fan, and you were wondering if you could get my autograph for him for his birthday?" Chris interrupted with a knowing laugh. "Sure, I think I still have some of my eight-by-tens at the house. I'll sign one and swing by Alonzo's tomorrow night."

Rosalind stared at him, taken aback by his generosity.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." He nodded, giving her that beautiful ice-cap-melting smile.

She blushed.

"Thank you...Now it's your turn. Where to?"

***

Chris was appalled by the fact that Rosalind was still living in the New Kid's on the Block Era. He was making it his personal mission to educate her on some of the greatest heavy metal bands to ever grace a concert stage. When they arrived at the electronics section, he gave Rosalind the task of finding CDs by Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, Kiss, and Judas Priest. She was to listen to the preview tracks off of each CD and then purchase one them.

While she was gathering her educational materials, he stood in the aisle opposite the music section and browsed through DVDs.

"You're my enemy. All that we had has gone away..."

Chris jumped at the sound of his cell phone, and he dropped the DVD he had in his hands. He knew who it was without reading the caller identification.

"And just when I thought I was let off the hook," he answered with a sigh. "You're about half an hour late on the usual check-up."

Jay ignored him.

"So, was she hot?"

Chris frowned.

"Are you telling me that you set me up on a date with a women you've never even met?"

"You're the one that's breezed through all of my ex-girlfriends. I finally had do a little outsourcing...So...was she hot? Were her melons the size of...melons?"

Chris rolled his eyes.

"I wouldn't know. She never showed up...not until after I left."

"Oh...bummer," Jay said after a moment. "Don't worry, man, there's plenty of other fish left in the Reso-Copeland fish-pond."

Chris let out a sigh of aggravation.

"When are you going to give it a rest? There's no point in trying to set me up on these blind dates. I don't even like the women you set me up with."

Jay let out a hearty laugh.

"I don't care if you like them. I'm just trying to get you laid. Find you someone that'll tickle your twig and berries for a night or two...The quickest way to overcome postpartum divorce is to have random sex with strangers; it makes up for the last five years of your marriage where you were a celibate errand-boy that catered to your selfish wife's every need."

"Have you ever considered thinking before you actually speak?"

"You know I'm right." Jay insisted, once again ignoring Chris's sarcasm. "Even a devote Christian—no pun intended—man, like yourself, can understand that. You need to just throw yourself out there. Get to shaking those Egyptian-cotton bed sheets, my friend! It's the only way!"

"Once again," Chris sighed in disinterest as he read the synopsis on the back of another DVD case. "I find your overwhelming concern for my love-life disturbing, Jay. The more you keep going like this, the more I'm going to insist that you seek some sort of mental evaluation."

"Well, I'm married...I no longer have a love-life. I'm forced to live vicariously through yours, and you're killing me, man!"

Chris laughed. "Sorry I'm disappointing you."

Rosalind came scurrying down the aisle, toward him. She was holding up two CDs. Deep Purple was in her right hand and Led Zeppelin in her left.

"I can't decide," she said, "so you pick."

"Who was that?" Jay's sonar hearing picked up on the sounds of the opposite sex.

"A friend."

"Well, this friend sounds smoking-hot. Is she hot? Are you going to take her back to your place? Oh, if you do, close the blinds in your living-room. That way I'll know that the sexy beast in Chris Jericho is alive and well."

"I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear that."

"What? What did I say?"

"I'm hanging up now, Jay."

Jay was still saying something when Chris shut his phone; he slid it into his pant's pocket.

Rosalind was staring at him; her was head cocked to the side as she awaited his reply.

"Zeppelin is always good," he said, pointing to her left hand.

She nodded and tossed the CD into his shopping-cart.

"It's so you don't look completely pathetic walking through Wal-Mart with an empty buggy," she explained, taking note of the confused expression across his face.

It took Chris a second to realize that she was teasing him.

"Well, hello Rosalind's sense of humor," he smirked. "It's nice to finally meet you."

She blushed—yet again—and rolled her eyes. "Cute."

"I know...I'm told that quite frequently. It pays to have a rather gigantic female fan-base when the self-esteem tank runs low."

She laughed. "I bet."

Chris gestured for her to lead the way, back to her own shopping-cart.

"Where to?" He asked again.