Special thanks to gtea-angel: those French translations were really useful, trust me.

I'm just so glad that many of my fellow authors (and Kababayans! Ü) loved the Randy Orton/Stacy Keibler tandem. As I've said earlier, this story is a hundred percent parody from a local movie shown here with the same title, and I think that all characters of the story are a perfect match from the movie itself.

And to blue3ski for that Got 2 Believe thing...I'm actually in a dilemma right now. Do it or not do it? LOL:p

Let's move on to the next story, shall we? For the Beetle will victimize The Doctor of Thuganomics and one of the hottest WWE divas of all time. As for the ending…you'll have to read more to find out!

…

WITH A SMILE

Part 1 of 5

"Johnny!"

"What is it now, Tor?"

"I dropped your shirt on the ground. A little help here, please?"

A scowl. "Stupid girl," he mutters.

John Cena turned around and walked towards a harried-looking Torrie Wilson, an armload of costumes in her arms and a plain white cotton shirt lying on the concrete ground in front of her. His scowl deepened as he picked it up and threw it carelessly on the load the blonde was carrying.

"The hell is wrong with you, woman?" John demanded as he walked towards his old red Beetle. "If you tear off even one of them costumes you're gonna have to pay for it. Plus I'll be including that on the reast of your debts."

Torrie held the costumes tighter on her chest as she stood next to the passenger's side. "You're always so angry; you'll get a heart attack!"

"Why? Because you've been living here for almost a month now and you're still a failure!" John countered.

Torrie frowned as John went inside the car and unlocked the passenger door for her. She went in without a word, John delving the key into the ignition, and as soon as the engine thrummed to life, he closed his door. Knowing a way to get back at him, Torrie held the knob of her own door firmly with one hand, ready to close it. John gave her a warning look.

"Don't slam it!" he yelled.

But she did slam it—hard. It was so hard, in fact, the grill was already threatened to get off.

"Torrie!"

She gave him a fake smile of apology, then turned her head on the window and muttered curses while staring through the car window. John rolled his eyes and stepped on the gas pedal, driving the car off of the five-star California hotel and headed it towards the road home.

It wasn't really like this at first. But here's how the twosome first met:

John works as a tourist guide from the nearest airport and also was joined in the entertainment group of the job to entertain tourists from Germany, Russia, Italy, France, et cetera. After months of saving he was able to move out after college and got a room in the boarding house at downtown LA along with his college buddies—his friend Eddie Guerrero and his girlfriend Dawn Marie Psaltis.

John always worked hard, and gets twice as much salary than any normal person will do that he officially became the money-lender of the busiest cull de sac the boarding house stands in. He spent his leftover money to buy and fix a broken-down 1975 red Beetle for himself that a friend gave from the towing service after finding it at East Coast Homes in suburban LA.

Then came this fateful day. John was ushering French tourists to the buses parked outside the airport until he saw this blonde, attractive young girl looking and walking around as if she was lost. Mesmerized by her, he approached her, and after a few mind-numbing basic words of French, she introduced herself as Torrie Wilson, an American-born French girl growing up from the city of Paris. After more French words and foolish gestures and signs, he managed to make her speak English and poof! They've been together ever since.

After that, the people who were supposed to pick Torrie up from the airport still didn't show up, and she claimed to John that she spent all her money coming here and didn't know where to spend her night. So John made a quick decision; he lent Torrie 25,000 dollars, let her stay at the flamboyant gay man Rico's beauty salon next door to the boarding house, and she'll be his work partner until she pays off her debt. Desperate to live, Torrie agreed to the plan.

John actually thought he'll be able to cope with his stressful job and relax with Torrie as his work partner, but he didn't know it was more work for him. Torrie wasn't stupid and as ditzy at all as he expected, but she was very clumsy, sometimes absent-minded, and often, misunderstood. With that, even the smallest mistakes that she made always lead to arguments. Because of the bad blood boiling up, Torrie wanted to, and practically begged John for her to leave USA, but John letting go of her was the last thing on his mind and making her pay her debt was the first. For him, everyday was a war, and both of them thought they would never, ever get along.

"Didn't I always tell you not to slam the door?" John told her for the nth time.

"Didn't I already say that I won't?" Torrie shot back.

They continued to argue when John parked the Beetle in front of the boarding house. It was 8:30 in the evening, but everyone in the cull de sac were still awake and pretty much lively. Kids were seen playing on the streets while karaoke bar across boomed out voices of slurred drunks singing out Mariah Carey oldies.

Still holding the costumes, Torrie hopped out of the car first and slammed the door again in annoyance that the mug wheels got off.

"Oops." she whispered.

John locked the doors before getting off the car and saw the mistake Torrie had made. He glared at her.

"I'll get it," she said quickly.

She bent down to get it, but John already bent down, accidentally knocking heads together. Both yelped out in pain.

Tears of pain glistened on Torrie's green eyes while rubbing the top of her head. "It's not my fault that your chin's so sharp!"

"I'll get it. Just get in the house!" John ordered her irritably.

As John pressed the mug wheel back to the hot black rubber, he heard Torrie puppy-dog growled at him—an unusual habit of expressing her anger. Then she stood up and walked away from him to the house. He stood up himself and gave the wheel one good kick, observing it again.

"Still tryin' to make her know I'm the boss around here," he whispered to the car, rubbing its red paint gently.

Suddenly, John heard kids from the other side of his car laughing. He went over to take a look, and saw Torrie laughing along with them.

"Here, Barbie. Flowers for you," the kid with the red hat said bashfully as he pushed a bunch of pink carnations towards Torrie.

"They're really pretty," Torrie said, smiling at him. "Merci, you guys."

It sounded funny to compare a silent and smiley plastic doll like that to a girl like Torrie. Pet naming her like that sounded funny, too. But John didn't even crack a smile as he went impulsively in front of Torrie and faced the kids. They shuddered at his angry glare.

"What, you're making me buy a vase to put all that in?" he glowered.

With that the kids scurried off, and Torrie was left only with an armload of stinky clothes and no flowers. John walked ahead of her to the boarding house.

"Vous pourriez avoir été mignon si vous n'étiez pas aussi grincheux! (You could've been cute if you weren't so grumpy!)" Torrie muttered behind his back.

John thought he heard French. "What the hell were you saying?"

"Nothing."

"Whatever."

And Torrie couldn't help smirking at John's innocence.

When they were both inside, Dawn was at the living room, resting on the sofas. The brunette smiled when she saw both of them.

"Oh good, you're home," she greeted. "John, the electric and the water bill just came in and it needs to be paid for next week."

"Okay. I'll take care of it," John said noncommittally.

"And John, I need new dresses, too," she added.

"Shouldn't you let Eddie buy some for you?" John replied as he sat down on the recliner and began taking out inch-think thousand dollar bills from his throwbacks pocket.

"Hi Dawn," Torrie greeted.

"Hi," And with a shake of her head, Dawn went to the kitchen without another word.

John continued to count money obliviously as soon as Torrie finished putting all the clothes in the wash. She stood across John.

"How much did we earn from gifts and souvenirs?" she asked.

John looked up and gave her another irritated look. "We? What do you mean we? Your salary for today goes into my piggy bank, little missy."

She crossed her arms. "How much more do I owe you? I want to know!"

"Oh, and you're gonna act demanding this time?" John said in a hard voice. "I'm telling you, Torrie. If it weren't for me lending you 25 grand you would have rotten to jail right now."

Torrie raked her curly blonde locks in frustration. "Debt, IOU's…that all I ever hear from you! I've been telling you I have no more money and I don't have a bank account here!"

"You think that's my fault?" John began, standing up. "I don't think there's anything wrong with charging your ass continuously. In fact, I'm actually having fun doing it."

Torrie stamped her foot on the rugged floor. "That's not funny John! You always charge me for water, shampoo, lotion, napkin! You even charge me for air! When can I leave!"

"You can't leave unless you pay me back!" John replied, pounding his hand on the coffee table. "You work harder so you can leave. Your problem is…"

And then a noisy battle ensued, both of them saying the same things without them knowing it.

"You always think of yourself!—Vous pensez toujours à vous-même! (You always think of yourself!)"

"Do you think I like having you here!—Vous pensez que j'aime vivre ici! (Do you think I like living here!)"

"My life's better when you're not around here!—Mon meilleur dos de la vie en France! (My life's better back in France!)"

"You're making a jackass out of me!—Vous fabriquez un imbécile à partir de moi! (You're making a fool out of me!)"

"Heeeeey!" Rico's shrilly voice rang out from the door, making John and Torrie quiet. "Like noisy little bitches and kitties…won't the two of you just get along for once!" The gay man held up a kitchen knife from the table. "Here, take this and just kill the ass out of each other!"

No one moved or said a word.

Rico pointed the tip of the knife at Torrie. "You…go back to the house!"

Torrie snuffed and stormed out the door.

Then Rico pointed the knife to John this time. "And you…stay! This is your house," He set down the knife and followed Torrie out the door.

After that John caught sight of Torrie at the front window, giving him another growl. He reciprocated with a growl of his own. The she finally left.

John massaged his forehead after giving Dawn a sullen look for smiling at the twosome's little war.

…

John woke up the following morning, stretching his arms to the balcony of the boarding house. The sun was shining hotly, and the cull de sac was still as busy and as noisy as ever.

Below the balcony was his Beetle parked on the side of the street, and beside it was Torrie finished hanging huge blankets next door on the clotheslines temporarily installed in front of the closed parlor. As John watched, Torrie held a bucket of soapy water, and to his surprise, splashed it all over the top of his car down to the trunk.

"Torrie!"

The blonde looked preferably shocked at the sound of her name. John immediately got out of the house in a breeze, another bucket of clean water in one hand.

"What the hell do you think you're doing! Don't touch my car!" John ordered Torrie as soon as he set down his bucket. "If something broke, you debt will be adding up!"

"You said I should work harder so I can leave!" Torrie objected.

John started to splash water in all directions. "Yeah, but this has nothing to do with my car!"

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeey!" Rico yelled, overhearing, looking horrible as ever in glittery clothes and make-up. "So early in the morning and you're already fighting! What's wrong with the two of you! You John…always so high blooded! Why can't you just send this Russian girl back home!"

"French girl!" John corrected. "And a rather stupid one!"

"Whatever that is!"

"She still has so much to pay from me!" he said defensively.

"If you continue to charge her with every breath and with every turn of her head, you might as well just steal all the money of Germany!"

"France!"

"Wherever that is!" Then, a sly smile came to Rico. "Unless of course…you're doing it on purpose…"

There was a teasing tone in Rico's voice that made John stop washing his car. He looked straight at Torrie, and when she caught his eye, she glared at him and turned away.

John's unhappy stare burned holes at Torrie's back. "She ain't my type."

Rico's only reply was a snort. With an empty bucket finished, John walked back to the house to fill it up again.

"Always so angry…maybe because you have no love life!" Torrie yelled sarcastically behind him.

"How am I gonna get myself a girlfriend if you keep scaring them away!" John returned.

"Grumpy ass!"

"Stupid girl!"

When he made it to the garden hose near the door, Eddie and Dawn were on the entryway, snickering. He opened the hose full blast over the bucket, therefore giving John a chance to confront the couple.

"What's so funny?" he demanded.

"Nothing, esse," Eddie answered immediately. "Anyway, Door 314's kid is sick and needs some money so he could get—''

"Maybe later," John said quickly. Ignoring the couple's pensive glances, he went back to his overflowing bucket after turning the hose off, and went back to the car with it. He washed his car again until Rico approached him, skipping like an eight-year-old with a schoolgirl crush.

John gulped. Rico actually attempted to grope his bum once a few days ago, which meant John had to be careful around him. He continued to wash his car, ignoring Rico's batting eyelashes.

"John, sweetie," Rico began. "I need few dollars to buy some polish."

"How much are you asking?" he said slowly.

"20?"

John narrowed his eyes and glared at Rico.

"17?"

Another glare.

"15?"

More glares.

"Alright!" Rico howled, getting his message. "5 dollars is all I need!"

John reluctantly took out his wallet, fished out a crisp 5 dollar bill and handed it to the faggot, knowing he'll never see it again. Satisfied, Rico purposefully strode back inside his parlor, and John went back to washing his car.

"Vous pourriez avoir été mignon si vous n'étiez pas aussi bon marché. (You could've been cute if you weren't so cheap.)" Torrie said as she brushed past John.

John rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated breath, splashing his Beetle with such violence that he ended up getting his feet wet.

I can't wait for her to leave.

The rest of the day went normally noisy as usual.

(t.b.c.)

What do you think of that? Don't forget to review!

I have a favor to ask…could you get me a French translation of, "I wish he loves me, too." I would really appreciate it. Thanks!