Hehe, major thanks to Ocy for saying that this story idea was a good idea. ^__^ Don't worry, Ocy, I'll make sure to make it as evil as you think it's gonna be! ROFL.
As usual, my symbols..
'= thought
"= speech
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was one of those sort of days that he would love to just forget. The night was brutal on that day. He had lost. He, Y2J, had lost to Booker T. It was always the same, he of course got screwed. It was like in the WWF, nine tenths of the time he was screwed over by an angry McMahon, or a jealous Austin.
'These drinks are gonna taste real good.' Jericho was sitting quietly in the bar that Austin had inhabited a few hours ago. The bar was now in full swing, and the patrons were certainly living up to the usual thoughts of the bar. A few of them were all ready wasted, and some of them seemed to be edgy with each other. Jericho wouldn't be surprised if a fight or two broke out right in front of him.
He was home. Contrary to popular belief, or perhaps it was obvious..he did like his drinks when he was pissed off. It didn't happen often, so he cherished the few times he could get wasted and have a reason for it. The bartender filled up another mug of beer and placed it in front of him. He had all ready placed the money for it on the bar, and proceeded to take a good swig of the beverage.
He loved the slightly bitter taste rushing down his throat. It was like each drop offered him comfort. What a joke he was. As hard as he tried, he never ever seemed to be able to reach the top. He always was close, always just at the edge..and he always ended up losing. He had almost become WCW champion, even if he wasn't even in the WCW anymore. God, he hated WCW. He hated ECW too. Fuck them both. He *especially* hated that little hoebag..
Jericho twitched, feeling like breaking the mug over someone's head. That little bitch..of all people in the entire world, he just wanted to take her and ring her neck. She had and still is been the biggest thorn in his side. Half of the time, he lost his title shot because of her. Now, Little Princess owned ECW. What a completely perfect choice for her. He knew they meant when he had stated. Every customer but him, huh? He could live with that. She was the last person he'd *ever* want to wake up next too.
'If I ever got that desperate, I'd go for a fuckin' prostitute before her.' he smirked at the bartender who eyed him as he bought another one. He wasn't leaving until he was plastered. The hotel was near by, he didn't need to drive.
Two hours and six beers later, Jericho easily stumbled into a standing position. God he felt good. He could do anything now. Glancing around dizily, his vision majorly impaired, he walked slowly, if it could be called walking. It was more like staggering. He started moving towards the door, but not before slamming into an Indian statue, which was near the front door.
"I'm sorry ma'am." he said, his voice cracking as he let out a little giggle. After a few tries, he managed to open the door. Stepping outside, he looked around, blinking. 'Go for the big lighted building'. He reminded himself, even through his drunken stupor. He walked across the street, nearly getting hit by 2 cars on the way. 'I'm totally wasted.' He laughed at something unknown as he entered the hotel.
He got a lot of dirty looks as he entered. He walked up to the desk, smiling stupidly.
"Ish got a room 'ere.." he said, his speech slurred.
"Name?" he questioned, looking disgusted.
"Uum.." he thought a moment. "Chris Jericho." The man looked down his list, rolled his eyes, and got his key.
"Enjoy your..uh..stay. Your room is 107A, it's on this floor down the hall." the man's eyes suddenly raised and he let out an exaspered sigh. "Jesus, can't you people drink without totally killing yourselves?"
Jericho, though not exactly with it, raised his head from the desk and glanced over at the direction the man was looking at. 'Nice body.' She walked over, or stumbled over at least.
"Name?" the man asked, now looking annoyed.
"Hey buddy, why don't you go take your foot out of your ass and treat her with respect." The girl glanced at him, and though he couldn't focus on her well, he knew she had smiled at him.
"Because people like you disgust me." he sneered at him. "Now then, name?"
"Umm.." she paused, thinking. "..I don't know." She erupted into a fit of giggles, and Jericho joined in.
"You can come to my room, baby.." he smiled, snaking his arm around her waist.
"Okay." she nodded, smiling. Remembering the way the prick of a guy pointed too, he led her in that direction. 'I'm SO going to get laid. Score!'
By the time they got to the room, they were all ready kissing. Neither of them noted a flash, as they seemed a bit too involved at the moment with each other. Jericho managed to open the door with one hand, while sharing quite the passionate kiss with the girl he had just happened to meet. As the two entered the room, they barely had time to close the door.
However, if Jericho was sober, he would have realized that he was making out with none other then the ECW owner, Stephanie McMahon. He saw her as just some random girl, though, through his drunk perception. He didn't realize that he would pay for his actions the next morning, but at that moment..all he could think about is the kisses and the rough touch of an equally drunk female.
As usual, my symbols..
'= thought
"= speech
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was one of those sort of days that he would love to just forget. The night was brutal on that day. He had lost. He, Y2J, had lost to Booker T. It was always the same, he of course got screwed. It was like in the WWF, nine tenths of the time he was screwed over by an angry McMahon, or a jealous Austin.
'These drinks are gonna taste real good.' Jericho was sitting quietly in the bar that Austin had inhabited a few hours ago. The bar was now in full swing, and the patrons were certainly living up to the usual thoughts of the bar. A few of them were all ready wasted, and some of them seemed to be edgy with each other. Jericho wouldn't be surprised if a fight or two broke out right in front of him.
He was home. Contrary to popular belief, or perhaps it was obvious..he did like his drinks when he was pissed off. It didn't happen often, so he cherished the few times he could get wasted and have a reason for it. The bartender filled up another mug of beer and placed it in front of him. He had all ready placed the money for it on the bar, and proceeded to take a good swig of the beverage.
He loved the slightly bitter taste rushing down his throat. It was like each drop offered him comfort. What a joke he was. As hard as he tried, he never ever seemed to be able to reach the top. He always was close, always just at the edge..and he always ended up losing. He had almost become WCW champion, even if he wasn't even in the WCW anymore. God, he hated WCW. He hated ECW too. Fuck them both. He *especially* hated that little hoebag..
Jericho twitched, feeling like breaking the mug over someone's head. That little bitch..of all people in the entire world, he just wanted to take her and ring her neck. She had and still is been the biggest thorn in his side. Half of the time, he lost his title shot because of her. Now, Little Princess owned ECW. What a completely perfect choice for her. He knew they meant when he had stated. Every customer but him, huh? He could live with that. She was the last person he'd *ever* want to wake up next too.
'If I ever got that desperate, I'd go for a fuckin' prostitute before her.' he smirked at the bartender who eyed him as he bought another one. He wasn't leaving until he was plastered. The hotel was near by, he didn't need to drive.
Two hours and six beers later, Jericho easily stumbled into a standing position. God he felt good. He could do anything now. Glancing around dizily, his vision majorly impaired, he walked slowly, if it could be called walking. It was more like staggering. He started moving towards the door, but not before slamming into an Indian statue, which was near the front door.
"I'm sorry ma'am." he said, his voice cracking as he let out a little giggle. After a few tries, he managed to open the door. Stepping outside, he looked around, blinking. 'Go for the big lighted building'. He reminded himself, even through his drunken stupor. He walked across the street, nearly getting hit by 2 cars on the way. 'I'm totally wasted.' He laughed at something unknown as he entered the hotel.
He got a lot of dirty looks as he entered. He walked up to the desk, smiling stupidly.
"Ish got a room 'ere.." he said, his speech slurred.
"Name?" he questioned, looking disgusted.
"Uum.." he thought a moment. "Chris Jericho." The man looked down his list, rolled his eyes, and got his key.
"Enjoy your..uh..stay. Your room is 107A, it's on this floor down the hall." the man's eyes suddenly raised and he let out an exaspered sigh. "Jesus, can't you people drink without totally killing yourselves?"
Jericho, though not exactly with it, raised his head from the desk and glanced over at the direction the man was looking at. 'Nice body.' She walked over, or stumbled over at least.
"Name?" the man asked, now looking annoyed.
"Hey buddy, why don't you go take your foot out of your ass and treat her with respect." The girl glanced at him, and though he couldn't focus on her well, he knew she had smiled at him.
"Because people like you disgust me." he sneered at him. "Now then, name?"
"Umm.." she paused, thinking. "..I don't know." She erupted into a fit of giggles, and Jericho joined in.
"You can come to my room, baby.." he smiled, snaking his arm around her waist.
"Okay." she nodded, smiling. Remembering the way the prick of a guy pointed too, he led her in that direction. 'I'm SO going to get laid. Score!'
By the time they got to the room, they were all ready kissing. Neither of them noted a flash, as they seemed a bit too involved at the moment with each other. Jericho managed to open the door with one hand, while sharing quite the passionate kiss with the girl he had just happened to meet. As the two entered the room, they barely had time to close the door.
However, if Jericho was sober, he would have realized that he was making out with none other then the ECW owner, Stephanie McMahon. He saw her as just some random girl, though, through his drunk perception. He didn't realize that he would pay for his actions the next morning, but at that moment..all he could think about is the kisses and the rough touch of an equally drunk female.