The door to Danielle's make shift office burst open again. This time it was none other than the world famous Doctor of Thugonomics John Cena. At least he didn't strike a pose the moment he entered into the room. He just decided to throw his hat and shirt at her. Deoderant was what he truly needed - not an evaluation.

"My name's John Cena and I'm here to say,

I'm the best rapper and wrestler hey.

I grew up on the streets and am hardcore

With a man from a grocery store."

"For the love of God shut up," Danielle said as she covered her ears.

John sat down.

"Is something wrong with you eyes?"

"No, why?" he asked as he continued to face her with his head at a weird angle.

"Why is your head like that?"

"To show how I am hardcore."

Danielle reached for his file. "It says here you are from West Newbery...isn't that the whitest area in the US?"

"It's hard growing up on the streets of W.N."

"And wasn't your family rich?"

John didn't say anything but seemed a bit put down. Here was his hardcore image dashed to pieces.

"You say you're the doctor of thugonomics - what is thugonomics?"

"Thugonomics is when you're a thug and you got some nomics. Thugonomics."

"Nomics?"

"Hey, if you don't know what they are I can't tell you. Secret among us thugs."

"Well then, let's move on. I see here you have a CD out. Very interesting to see what wrestlers do in their spare time."

"Yeah it's phat. Off the hizzle fo' shizzle."

"I didn't understand that."

He made a smirk on his face and leaned forward and leaned back at her. "True thugs like me talk like that. Sorry if you aren't able to keep up."

"Mr. Cena, you are not a thug. You are not even an ug. You are just annoying."

He looked down. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was just a poser. Or even worse - what is he was a wangster? Would he be able to face himself in the morning? What would he be able to do with his life? Maybe he could talk to Randy and find out if he knew anyone who sold fake bling so that he could stand on the corner and sell that.

Danielle interrupted his thinking with, "Did you write this by yourself?"

"The song?"

"Yes, the song."

"Fo' sure."

"I thought so," she mused and started to read aloud the words, "'You can't see me now, you can't see me now, you can't see me now, you can't seem me now' and it pretty much goes on like this for the next nineteen pages."

"Dope huh?"

"Incredibly undope. Dopeless. I don't know if I will be able to pass you on your evaluation. It seems as though you are in your own dream world."

John sighed. "John Cena was the max, now he's just lax. Can't pass on the best, not as good as the rest. Guess he'll have to be a rapper and sing about his life, either that or learn to play a fife."

"If you promise to never attempt to wrap again I will pass you."

"I so promise."

"And never use hizzle or anything related to that word ever again either?"

"Word? You buggin' on John?"

"You're...forget it. Take this and get out of here," Danielle gave him the paper and pointed towards where the door is.

John got up and looked at her from a different head angle.

"Get your eyes checked as well too okay?" Danielle added as her final bit of information. Maybe that would cure him of having his head cocked all the time.