Disclaimer: I do not own Jay "Christian" Reso or anything that pertains to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am not profiting from writing this piece.

What kind of ignorant jackass wears an Armani suit and tie to a Thanksgiving meal, as if he were attending some kind of business meeting? Answer: Josh Not-Worthy-of-a-Last-Name. Up until this moment, I had never met, nor had I spoken to Josh. I knew a lot about him, thanks to Jay, but I didn't know him on a personal level. However, several minutes after the man (if that's what he preferred to call himself) said my name, I was able to deduce two things: 1) He was the portentous little shit that Jay had said he would be. 2) He really did look like John Stamos circa 1980's.

He was sitting diagonally from me. With his perfectly tanned skin beaming in the sunlight and a phony smile plastered across his face, he chattered about the fascinating life he led as a bank-teller. Clearly he didn't get out much. The whole time he was rambling, I kept itching for a pair of scissors to chop off that hideous shoulder-length black ponytail. It made him look like my androgynous twin; and there was no way in hell I wanted to bear a resemblance to that thing.

For the record, I have a lot of patience for people that are teetering on the edge of a lesser intelligence, but this fellow was irking me in ways that I have never known possible. That being said, once I reach that irk-of-no-return, I can't always control my actions. It's like a fight-or-flight response takes over; therefore, I should not be held accountable for a deviled egg becoming an added accessory to Josh's precious little suit, right?

"Whoa, did you see how high that little sucker flew?" I exclaimed as I watched my perfectly-launched deviled egg slither like a snake down the front of Josh's suit.

Josh looked down at my little present and instantly fell silent. Thank God.

Jay was sitting beside me and nearly choked on mouthful of turkey. He reached for his drink and failed to muffle his laughter before taking a sip of soda.

"Sorry 'bout that, Josh…Hope that suit wasn't too egg-spensive."

I gave him my most innocent stare, just to prove that I could be as disgustingly sweet as he pretended to be.

Jay cackled aloud this time, to which Heather glared at him.

Josh forced a smile, partially gritting his teeth.

"No worries, AJ. I have a couple more where this one came from."

"I bet you do," I muttered as I took a sip of soda. I cast a sideways glance at Jay. For some reason, I got the sinking feeling that Jay's credit card was paying for those suits.

No one spoke for a moment as Josh made an attempt to remove the deviled egg from his suit. He then looked up at me with that smug smile and, in a condescending manner, asked, "So…AJ, you have said much about yourself. What is it that you do, if you don't mind me asking?"

He had already integrated everyone else at the table; and it was either coincidence or on purpose that he had saved me for last. As if it wasn't made obvious already, financially he couldn't hold a flame to either Jay or Chris. Maybe he thought he could with me. Maybe he thought at long last he has found someone that he was better than.

I sat my drinking glass down and stared at him for a moment.

"I'm your worst nightmare," I replied with a sinister grin. "I'm a tax collector."

Josh chuckled. "I bet the husband enjoys that."

My jaw clenched. It was obvious that I wasn't wearing a wedding band. So the hit below the belt was intentional.

"I'm not married, engaged, or otherwise."

Josh took a sip of his drink. His gaze never left mine.

"Oh...Well, I can't say I'm too terribly surprised. 'I'm a tax collector' is not something a man wants to hear on the first date, ya know?"

I could feel Jay flinching next to me. He was seconds from leaping across the table and flogging Josh to death with a turkey leg. I had a brief flashback of the time a guy tried to slip a roofie in my drink at party and Jay caught him in the act. Long story short, said guy ended up picking pieces of a lamp out of the side of his head. Granted, Jay felt bad about it afterward and drove him to the hospital. However, right now…Something told me that Jay would be content at watching Josh bleed to death.

"Josh!" Heather gasped.

Josh gave her an understanding nod and then turned his attention back to me.

"Forgive me," he said, oozing false serenity out of his greasy little pores. "If that was offensive, I apologize."

I gave him a dismissive gesture.

"You're quite right," I said. "It's hard to find someone because of my line of work, but then again, maybe my standards are too high. I mean, I have a Bachelor of Science in Business as well as a Master's of Business Administration in Tax Accounting. Those men that make approximately eleven bucks an hour and dress like you just don't do it for me."

I smirked, having momentarily left him at a loss for words.

"Ashley, Parker—I mean, Josh," Chris finally intervened before things really took a turn for the worst. "I haven't had to tell anyone to stand in the corner in quite a while, but if you two continue with the verbal assaults, I'm going ask you to. This is ridiculous."

Silence followed. Both Josh and I looked down at our plates. I felt Jay squeeze my hand from beneath the table.

Heather nervously reached for a fourth helping of sweet potato casserole. She scraped every last crumb into a mountainous glob on her plate. This unusual act had caught Jay's attention.

"What's ridiculous is the amount of food Heather's consumed in one sitting," Jay eyed his wife with a raised brow. "How in God's name can you eat your weight in turkey and still want more food, woman?"

"What?" She looked at him innocently. "Am I not entitled to eat as much as you usually do?"

"Of course you are," he replied, gesturing to her plate, "but don't you think Mount Sweet Potato Casserole is overkill? You're going to hurl, if you even attempt to polish that off."

"That's nothing new," Heather mumbled. "Of course, had you been around more often, you would have noticed that."

Jay gave her a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

She looked at him and huffed.

"I'm pregnant, you moron!"

"You're w-w-w-w…P-wa-wa-wa-wa…" Jay tried to speak.

I started choking on my soda, so that got his attention momentarily.

Jay just stared at me, watching as the soda slowly cut off my air supply. His eyes rolled back into his head.

He fainted, dragging me with him to the floor.