An angry and enraged John Cena called a meeting with his entire newspaper staff, which was pretty much the entire WWE. Some were more involved than others.

"As I'm sure most of you are aware, we have been experiencing some technical difficulties with the newspaper," John explained, eliciting groans from almost every one of his crew members.

"Cena, it's your place to blame technical difficulties when you are the true glitch in the system," Jeff Hardy snapped back from somewhere in the middle of the room.

"Oh, you're one to talk, Jeff. Your column hasn't been more than two lines these past two issues!"

"Yeah, but you still published them."

"That's besides the point. Look, who is this anonymous gossip columnist? Curt and Zack, do you guys know? You two are the last people to see the issues before they are distributed out to the Superstars," Cena accused the two Edgeheads.

"Hey, don't accuse my boys, freak," Edge said, standing up and walking over to Zack and Curt, squeezing his way in between them and draping his arms around their shoulders. He bobbled his head while he smacked his gum, giving John a devilish look. "Just because you're too dumb to figure out who's sabotaging your pride and joy doesn't mean you need to go out and accuse the henchmen of your greatest enemy of all time."

"It's obvious that it's you, Edge," Cena sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Prove it," Edge challenged.

John raised his eyebrows and silently dropped the subject. As he looked away, he didn't notice Edge slip two crisp five dollar bills into the hands of Zack Ryder and Curt Hawkins.

The Shit List: Because I'm that Damn Good
By: The Game, Triple H

Next up on ol' Tripsy's shit list is none other than the Rated R Superstar himself, Edge.

Come on, man. We all know that this gossip girl shit is being done by you. Your cronies are sneaking in the fake article just like they're sneaking in those damn funny comics you come up with. Keep the comics. Ditch the article.

The Chronic Chronicles
By: CM Punk

There are no significant drug stories to report this week.

I'm still clean, and you should be, too. Do you want to end up like William Regal? I don't think so.

Oh, and little DiBiase? Get arrested for any DUIs lately? Ha.

Maybe you should all stop making fun of my non-partying ways and join me in my straight-edge cult.

Is that what you want to hear, John? That we're all forming some rebellious cult against you, dedicated to the demise of this paper? If so, you're more pathetic than I thought you were.

Remember, kids, punks don't smoke the rock.

Pat Your Weave
By: That Rainbow Haired Guy Who Jumps Off Stuff

Long hair in. Preferably with random shades of green and purple added.

Jeff Hardy, out. New name seen above.

LOOK JOHN! IT'S MORE THAN TWO LINES!

Asshole.

John grumbled to himself as he scanned over his third published newspaper. He didn't even bother with editing as thoroughly as he usually would have; he knew that everyone would undermine his authority and just say what they wanted anyways. And even if John would take it out, they would find some way to get it back in.

John rolled his eyes as his eyes crossed paths with Edge's comic. This week's rousing pictorial was shown in a club. A profound stick figure image of John Cena was trying to get the club's DJ to play one of his songs. The DJ took John's CD and bashed him in the head with it.

That Crime Scene, Crime Scene, Yeah, Yeah
By: JTG

YO YO YO! What's really hood?

The only crime around these parts is that dude that's making fun of everyone. If someone dares make fun of me or Big Shad, we'll get our homies to bust a cap in someone's ass.

And we'd make a killing off of that court case, trust me.

The Importance of Short Hair
By: Randy Orton

I've been getting a lot of heat about my choice of hairstyles over the past few months.

GET OVER IT!

You're all just jealous that you cannot pull off every style of hair that I can.

Besides, I like short hair. Sweat doesn't get caught in it, and then I can still smell better than you.

The Palace of Wisdom
By: The Shaman of Sexy, John Morrison

Dear John Morrison, the Shaman of Sexy,

I want to grow long, illustrious hair like yours, but I can't seem to do it. How can I achieve such god like hair status?

Funaki, is that you? Well, let me tell you that you can't grow hair like mine. My hair is certified by the Palace of Wisdom, and you're no Mr. Fuji.

Remember, in life, there are winners, and there are losers.

The Real Sack
By: Anonymous

Hey, John, did you like that personals ad in last week's issue? I put that in there. It said that you were seeking Shawn Michaels. Hehehe it made me happy. Oh, by the way, did he call?

What's with JTG thinking he can "bust a cap?" What does that even mean? Is that some sort of street lingo for opening a can?

And no, John, don't go assuming that I'm Stone Cold Steve Austin now. He's not that smart. He wouldn't know how to use apostrophes, just like you don't know how to edit your own damn newspaper articles.