A/N: I feel bad neglecting this, but, well...When you don't get the response you used to on a story...I tend to put stuff on the back burner when that happens. So yeah, that's what happened to this one.

John Cena had an epiphany.

Edge had said many, many times that he was not the anonymous Sack. Sure, he didn't quite believe the sick bastard, but there was no way that Edge would deny these claims if they were in fact true statements.

So, John Cena thought about it. And he thought about it. And then he thought about it some more.

What other man on the entire WWE roster enjoyed trash talking as much as Edge? What other person was so devious and cunning, both qualities that the Sack possessed? Who else liked to bring others down? Who else claimed to have psychic powers?

It was simple, really.

The Sack wasn't here to save the newspaper, that was for sure.

And Chris Jericho was no longer there to save the WWE.

It didn't take an idiot to put two and two together.

Chris Jericho was the Sack.

The Chronic Chronicles
By: CM Punk

I have a bone to pick with some of you. So what if I'm attempting to celebrate my newly won World Tag Team Championship? It's not like I'm going out partying. Yes, I was drinking...Pepsi.

And you know what? I am perfectly aware that caffeine is considered a drug. But it's not like it fucks you up like alcohol or weed or something. It just wakes your ass up. Actually, it keeps me pretty calm. If I don't have it, I'll fall asleep at a Rancid concert.

So you guys, especially Randy Orton, should get off my case about me drinking soda. It's not a bad drug. I don't even really consider it a drug. Just because you jerk offs are jealous because I'm getting pushed and you're not...

And Mr. McMahon, if you're reading this, I appreciate every single thing you've done for me in my career.

If I get any more heat for this from the guys about sucking up, I'm going to borrow a line from JTG and bust a fucking cap.

Remember, kids, punks don't smoke the rock (or drink the alchy).

I Like Cheese
By: JEFFRO

In honor of Halloween, I suggest that we all color our hair random colors and paint our faces orange.

It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!

And just so you're aware, everyday is Halloween for me. So suck on that, blondies.

"Chris, I know you're the Sack," John said as Chris handed in his first article for the paper.

Chris snorted. "Honestly, John, do you think I'd waste my time writing for your pathetic paper? You have issues."

"But you just handed in an article."

"That's what you think," Chris said, rolling his eyes.

John skimmed over Jericho's article. "Chris, there is no way I'm publishing this in next week's paper."

"Why on earth not? Chris Jericho is the greatest journalist in the world!"

"This is an article about cat litter!" John yelled, slamming the paper on his desk. "This is the WWE, not PetSmart!"

"Are you insulting my creative genius?" Jericho gasped, clutching a hand over his heart. "I am hurt, John."

"Two minutes ago, you said that you'd never write for this paper."

"Yeah, but that was after I snuck in an article last week. I suggest you edit a bit more. Good day to you, sir."

John let out a disgruntled sigh as Jericho left. First, he saw Edge's latest artistic creation. It was his special Halloween edition, or at least that's what the title said. John was dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West. He was tied to a stake that was on fire. Edge, Zack Ryder, and Curt Hawkins were all dressed up in their Rated-R gear, dancing around the flames.

And Jericho's article was on the next page.

The Church of Hot Jericho
By: The King of the World, The Man who Will Save Us, The Sexy Beast, The Ayatollah of Rock and Rollah, Y2J, The First Ever Undisputed Champion, The Keeper of the Lion's Den, Chris Jericho

Chris Jericho has arrived, children. Be afraid. Be very, very afraid.

This paper will never...ever...everrrr...EVER...EVERRRR...EVAAAAAAAAAAAAAR be the same...AGAYN.

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

Dear Oh Mighty Shaman of Sexy,

I am jealous of my younger brother. He gets all the girls. I need help!

Carlito? I knew you'd be begging for my aid soon enough. As for your brother, there is nothing to be jealous of. He looks like...Well...He looks like if Chavo Guerrero lost about six inches in height and gained fifty-three pounds and was sixty years younger.

Yeah, I went there.

Be jealous.

I'm Back, Bitches
By: RKO MOTHER *******

Okay, so you want fashion advice? I'll give you fashion advice...

Santino, pluck your damn unibrow!

Jeff, stop painting your face.

Cena, wear actual wrestling boots.

Umaga, get actual footwear.

Cody, get rid of that disgusting chest hair.

Ted, stop getting haircuts like me.

Jericho, shave your nasty goatee.

Kelly, wear clothes.

See? Was it really that hard?

I'm retiring early.

The Real Sack
By: Anonymous

You know who's been getting on my nerves lately, besides our prestigious editor?

Mother. Banging. Undertaker.

Stop wasting our time by taking seventy-five thousand years to enter the ring.

Punk, you're a closet druggie. I saw you shooting up that heroin last night. Let me guess, you're Straight-Edge for Halloween.

This is getting old. I'm going to tell you who I am...

Now?

No, not yet.

Wait for it...

It's almost time!