Gah. Sorry 'bout the wait. I got caught up in my other story, which is a serious one, and it was difficult to switch back to humor mode. This will happen from time to time, so if it takes a while for an update, don't be discouraged. They will come.

Thanks to all you who reviewed. You guys are wonderful, you know. :D

I threw in some ECW peoples in here. I got at least two requests for Kurt to be in here, so I decided to put in the people I like, too. Here's a hint: one kicks more than Jackie Chan, the other is suicidal, homicidal, genocidal, and death-defying all at the same time. Three guesses who they are. ;)

The Chairman of the WWE was getting one hell of a headache.

He, his son, and his Executive Assistant were seated at the announcer's table in the arena, watching their superstars who had somehow been turned into children as they debated on what to do. Vince sat in the middle, his chin in his hands, wondering around the steadily growing throb in his head what he had done to deserve this. Shane O' Mac sat beside him, the remaining bewilderment in his eyes only just beginning to fade. Coach was seated by the side of the table, leaning sideways on his elbow, a faint smile on his face.

Coach had called Vince a half hour ago, and was not terribly surprised to hear that the two McMahon's had also discovered some Wrestlers had been turned into children. They had decided to meet here, in the arena, only to find more children waiting for them. Nine more, to be exact.

Rob Van Dam, Sabu, Kurt Angle, Booker T, Sharmell, Carlito, Trish Stratus, Maria, and Candice.

The first thought that went through Coach's mind had been: What are people from ECW doing here?

But Vince hadn't seemed surprised, and had barked—though rather faintly—at Cena, Michaels, H, Mysterio, Batista, JBL, Hardy, 'Taker, and Orton to amuse themselves. Then he had promptly marched towards the announcer's table, dragging a bewildered Shane and Coach with him.

Currently, Rob Van Dam was bouncing on the ropes of the ring, his back to the announcer's table, laughing and cheering, "Bouncy! Bouncy!"

Carlito, who still looked like he had a brown pom-pom on his head—albeit a smaller one—was sitting on the low wall which separated where the ring was from the front seats. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he looked annoyed. Trish Stratus, her blonde hair pulled up into a loose ponytail, sat beside him, giggling as she tugged relentlessly at his hair.

Maria and Candice seemed to be playing some sort of human version of one-target Whack-A-Mole. Or, more accurately, Whack-A-Candice. Maria, holding a spoon in one hand, stood by the ring, while Candice hid under the ring, but occasionally peeked out nervously. It was then that Maria promptly—almost methodically—whacked her with the spoon. Candice would quickly retreat back under, and Maria would wait with unwavering patience until, eventually, Candice would uncertainly look out again, and the process would repeat itself.

Right in front of the announcer's table, Sabu, wearing glittering gold pants, ran around in circles, his hair streaming out behind him like a banner. His arms were outstretched, as though he was attempting to grasp something, his expression determined.

Kurt Angle, clad in his usual blue, sat cross legged on the floor near Sabu. His eyes were wide and excited, drool steadily dripping from his open mouth, staring at Sabu's glittering pants.

Booker T sat on the steps facing the announcer's table, Sharmell by his side. A red blanket was wrapped around his shoulders like a cape, and a cardboard crown was perched awkwardly on his head. Sharmell had the same kind of cardboard crown, though hers was coated in glitter. She wore a sparkling pink dress, and was eyeing the McMahon's and Coach distrustfully. Booker, meanwhile, was watching Sabu and thoughtfully sucking his thumb.

Triple H, John Cena, and Shawn Michaels sat together on the wall. Shawn was squeezed in between the other two, his head on H's shoulder, his feet propped up against Cena's leg. Cena and Triple H glared at each other over his head, both scowling. Shawn was talking cheerfully, unmindful to the way the other two were burning holes in each other by the way of their eyes. Occasionally, he would ask a question, and his two companions would attempt to outdo each other by answering first. Afterwards, the slower (which was usually H) would glare at the faster with intense, burning abhorrence, while the 'winner' smirked. Shawn seemed to notice none of this, and continued talking.

Matt Hardy was leaning against the wall, looking uninterestedly around the arena, his hands in his pockets. JBL sat beside him, moodily regarding the ceiling. Just a moment ago he had been complaining loudly, but Hardy had silenced him with a hard hand to the head.

Undertaker and Randy Orton were still together, inside the ring, by one of the turnbuckles nearest to the announcer's table. 'Taker was sitting with his back against the turnbuckle, Orton seated before him, both talking in low voices. 'Taker's face was twisted in disgust and fury, and Orton appeared likewise infuriated.

And little Rey Mysterio was having a field day.

He hobbled around the arena, his huge eyes alight with a happiness that no longer seemed quite sane, grinning broadly. He hugged everyone he came across and greeting them in that same childish way: "Helwo, Fwend!" Batista followed his closely, watching the smaller boy the way a parent would watch an overly-active child.

Coach, faintly amused, watched the tiny masked boy approach the trio of Cena, Michaels, and Triple H. He locked his arms briefly around Cena's leg, and chirped, "Helwo, fwend Won Wena!"

Triple H snorted. "'Wena', that sounds an awful lot like 'wiener', no?" John scowled at him, his hand tightening into a fist. He looked as though he would like nothing more than to throttle the other boy.

Shawn giggled. "It does, doesn't it? You're a wiener, John!" he said playfully, and kicked Cena's thigh, still laughing.

Cena's scowl immediately faded, and he grinned at the other boy. "I guess I must be," he agreed, and beamed at Shawn's ensuing laughter. Now it was Triple H's turn to scowl, and he crossed his arms and turned away.

Rey, meanwhile, was trying without success to reach Shawn. He jumped, attempting to hug the larger boy, failed, fell back—and without a moment's hesitation, tried again. He didn't seem at all discouraged. Batista, looking amused, lightly tapped Shawn's shoulder. When Shawn looked at him questioningly, he gestured downward at Rey. Shawn snorted and leaned over so Rey could lock his arms around his neck.

"Helwo, fwend Swawn!"

"Hello, Rey," Shawn said, smiling. Rey moved on to Triple H, calling him 'Wiple wach'. Then he hobbled away, humming, with Batista at his heels. Shawn resumed talking, while H and Cena resumed glaring.

Shane watched them, rather intrigued, and a trifle amused. It almost seemed the two were trying to outdo each other not only because they hated each other—which they obviously did—but to make themselves look better in front of Michaels. And Shane noticed Cena was eyeing the way Shawn leaned on Triple H with what appeared to be jealousy.

In spite of himself, Shane O' Mac began to smile—and of course hid it with his hand.

All activity in the room halted abruptly—except for Sabu and Angle: Sabu went on running, and Kurt went on drooling—and all eyes turned to the ramp which led to the ring.

Making their way down it, hand in hand, was a blond boy with sharp green eyes and a red-haired girl. Both had a rather devilish look in their eyes, the boy smirking. It was instantly obvious who they were.

"Edge." Cena addressed the boy in a voice thick with abhorrence.

"Cena," the boy—Edge—sneered his reply.

"Edge," Triple H said, scowling.

"Triple H," Edge responded the same as he had to Cena.

Shawn looked from Cena to Triple H, studying their faces. Then he sat up, sliding closer to H. He regarded Edge, though not with the same hatred and disgust as the other two. "Edge," he echoed, voice neutral.

Edge glanced at him uninterestedly. "Michaels." He turned his eyes back to Cena, the smirk once again spreading over his face.

Cena glanced at the girl at Edge's side. A disgusted expression crossed his face, as though he was regarding some sort of revolting bug. "Lita," he said brusquely.

"Cena," Lita replied mockingly.

"Lita." Triple H addressed the red-head in a low, dangerous tone.

"Triple H."

Shawn hesitated, debated, then shrugged as if to say, ah, what the hell. "Lita."

Lita regarded him with no more interest than Edge had. "Michaels."

"Wedge!" Rey cried at the top of his lungs, "Wita!" He rushed to the two, and locked his arms around Edge's middle. "Helwo, fwend Wedge!"

Edge's face twisted in disgust, and he roughly pushed the small boy off him. "Get away from me, you tiny freak."

Rey looked surprised for a moment. Then, much to the surprise of everyone, his huge eyes narrowed, and fury crossed his face. His fists clenched, and he suddenly bellowed in a voice that was surprisingly deep and venomous, "WHO YOU CALLING SO SMALL ANTS NEED TO USE A MAGNIFYING GLASS TO SEE?" And before anyone knew what was happening, he drove a hard knee directly into the groin of the blond boy.

Edge blinked, for a moment unaware what had happened. Then shock and pain crossed his face, and his hands went to his crotch. "Ohhh…" he moaned, and fell back, clutching his groin. He rolled on the floor, moaning in pain.

Lita stared down at him, blinking, looking shocked. Meanwhile, every mouth had dropped open, and all eyes were on Rey. Rey Mysterio himself, meanwhile, had gone back to his usual insanely cheerful self, and looked at Lita with his massive sparkling eyes. "Helwo, fwend Wita!" he chimed, and wrapped his arms around the stunned red-head. Then he turned and hobbled away, back to Batista, humming joyfully.

For a moment, all was silent, everyone staring at the tiny boy, stunned. Then suddenly, Cena laughed, and jumped down off the wall, pounding Rey lightly on the back. "Whoa, man! That was awesome!"

Rey grinned at him. "Waweswome!" he exclaimed, and clapped his hands, giggling.

"Well, that was weird," Shawn remarked in a low voice to Triple H, and H snickered and nodded.

Vince and Shane exchanged glances. Coach, in spite of himself, began to snigger helplessly as he watched Edge roll around on the floor, moaning and clutching his crotch, while Lita watched, blinking.

After a moment in which he continued to stare at Rey, Randy turned to Vince, looking bored. "You got any toys, Big Oily Guy?" he questioned. That seemed to be what they had all decided to call the Chairman of the WWE: Big Oily Guy. Shane and Coach both found this amusing, but of course didn't show. Vince McMahon, however, found it insulting and infuriating.

Vince looked at him, and scowled. "Of course not."

Orton sighed. "Figures," he muttered, resting his chin in his palm.

"I wish we could go to Toys-R-Us," Matt Hardy mused aloud, looking listlessly at the ceiling.

Shawn's face lit up. "We're going to Toys-R-Us?" he asked excitedly.

"Woys-War-Wus!" Rey cried at once. "We go Woys-War-Wus!"

Shawn squealed in delight, and proceeded to jump up and down on the wall, clapping and cheering. "Yay! We're going to Toys-R-Us! We're going to Toys-R-Us! We're going to—"

"I POOPED IN MY PANTS!"

Everyone hushed and turned to the source of the rather random—and disturbing—announcement. JBL had jumped to his feet, his arms held high in the air, as though he had just accomplished something great.

Shawn raised an eyebrow at him, and sat back down. "What's that got to do with anything?" he inquired.

"I DON'T KNOW! BUT I DID!"

Batista groaned. "Again JBL? Why can't you go on the toilet for once? There's a bathroom right there!" He pointed in the direction of the bathroom.

JBL's smile vanished, and he shivered, fearfully regarding the bathroom door. "Because toilets eat people," he said.

"Toilets do not eat people, JBL," Batista said with the air of someone who's had to recount this obvious fact over and over again.

"It would eat me!"

Rey giggled and clapped his hands. "Woilet weat Waybeewell!"

Orton rolled his eyes. "How pathetic," he said, and Undertaker nodded his agreement.

JBL made a face at him, then looked at Vince. "Change me, Big Oily Guy!" he demanded, and grinned.

Vince jumped. "Me? Change you? Just who do you take me for?" he cried, looking both shocked and infuriated.

Batista rolled his eyes, and glanced down at Rey. "Go to Matt," he said, and Rey instantly obeyed, hobbling to Hardy and seating himself at Matt's feet. Seeing Rey was safely with Hardy, Batista turned to JBL, and tugged his arm. "C'mon," he said, "I'll change you…like always." This last he stated with obvious disgust.

JBL made a face at him, and pulled his arm free of the other's boy grip. "No!" He turned back to Vince, grinning once more. "I want Big Oily Guy to change me!"

"I will NOT!" Vince boomed, his anger growing every moment.

JBL's grin grew wider. "OK! I'll get the diapers!" And he ran out.

Vince stared, his mouth agape, as JBL, excited as can be, ran up the ramp and ducked through the curtain which led backstage, making his way to wherever the diapers were.

As if this wasn't bad enough for the Chairman of the WWE, Booker T suddenly approached him, and gazed up at him, his eyes grave. Vince looked down, mouth hanging open. He abruptly closed it. "What do you want?" he growled. He had just about had enough of these children.

Booker T was silent for a moment, his thumb stuffed in his mouth, looking up at Vince McMahon. Sharmell, who had followed, stood beside him, her eyes on Vince as well, her gaze suspicious. Then, Booker T pulled his thumb out of his mouth.

"I want a smoothie," he said solemnly, and promptly delivered a hard kick to Vince's shin.

Vince cried out in surprise and fell back, consequently tumbling out of his chair. His son and his Executive Assistant stared at him, blinking. Meanwhile, Booker T put his thumb back in his mouth, glanced thoughtfully down at Vince—who was now rolling on the floor clutching his shin—then took Sharmell's hand and made his way back to the steps he had been sitting on before.

Watching his boss roll on the floor, much like Edge had been doing just a few moments before, was just too much. Unable to stop himself, Coach began to laugh. Shane began to snicker, but muffled it with his hand.

Vince grabbed the edge of the table, and pulled himself up, glaring venomously at Coach. "You. Are. So. Fired," he breathed, but Coach could still not stop. It didn't matter, however—because after all, this was only a dream.

"Bwig Oiwy Gwy gwet kwicked by fwend Wooker Wee!" Rey cried suddenly, and began to giggle. Triple H, who didn't particularly like Vince, began to laugh as well. Cena attempted to glare at him, found he could not, and helplessly burst into hysterical laughter as well. Shawn immediately joined his two friends. Trish Stratus, who was looking at Vince but still pulling Carlito's hair, giggled with them. Carlito began to laugh, also, and Orton quickly followed suit. Then Batista, still relived he would not have to change JBL's diaper again, started laughing hysterically, too. Shane finally gave in, and joined the others. Soon, everyone was laughing—everyone except Sabu, who kept running, and Kurt, who kept staring and drooling—and Vince flushed an ugly red and scowled.

But all laughter ceased abruptly, however, when yet another wrestler-turned-five-year-old entered the arena.

This one was also instantly recognizable: he was huge, towering above the others, and roared as he strode down the ramp, his shoulder-length hair bouncing around his shoulders. It was Great Khali turned massive five-year-old.

Upon sight of this boy, Undertaker immediately stood. Abhorrence burned in his eyes. "Khali," he said with evident distaste. The huge boy roared in response, throwing his hands into the air.

Orton looked up at 'Taker, and Undertaker glanced down at him, and nodded. Orton immediately slid out of the ring, and disappeared underneath.

Undertaker jumped out of the ring and faced Khali. Khali roared again. Undertaker stepped toward him, and proceeded to circle him, lowering his head so his hat concealed his eyes. Khali turned to follow his progress, undeterred. Everyone was silent, watching.

Undertaker halted abruptly in front of Khali, causing the other boy to stop with his back facing the ring. He stood for a moment, unmoving. Then, he slowly lifted his hands, and gripped the brim of his hat. Then, moving with sudden swiftness, he tore of the hat, revealing that his pupils were gone, and only the whites of his eyes were showing. Khali threw up his arms and roared again.

Suddenly, Khali sensed something behind him, and turned. He was still roaring, arms held high. Orton had just crawled out from under the ring, and the moment he saw Khali had turned, he leapt towards the massive boy, twisting his body sideways as he locked his arms around Khali's neck. He then pulled the larger boy down, and Khali hit the ground with a loud thud! Khali bounced, and rolled onto his back. He lay, looking dazed.

Orton went to 'Taker's side, smirking. Undertaker's eyes went back to normal, and he looked down at the dazed Khali, his expression triumphant. "You just got R-K-O'd," he said, emphasizing each letter, and placed his hat on Orton's head. Orton beamed proudly at this.

The two looked down at Khali, and disgust crossed Undertaker's face again. Orton scoffed, then turned to 'Taker, and tugged on his coat. "C'mon, 'Taker," he said. "Let's go pull Carlito's hair."

Undertaker nodded his agreement, and the two turned in Carlito and Trish's direction.

Shawn suddenly sat up, and jumped off the wall. "Hey!" he called, "I want to pull Carlito's hair, too!"

Triple H followed him immediately. "Yeah, me too!"

John glared at H. "I bet I can pull it ten times harder than you," he declared.

H scowled at him. "Oh yeah? Well, I bet I can pull it a zillion times harder!"

"I bet I can pull it a bazillion times harder!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Bet I can get to him faster!"

"You're on!"

Both boys' began running at the same time, glaring holes in each other. Shawn watched them, blinking, then rolled his eyes and followed.

"Way!" Rey cried, jumping up. "Want to pwull fwend Warwito's wair woo!"

Carlito's shoulder's slumped. "Carlito does not think this cool," he muttered.

And thus, Rey Mysterio, Undertaker, Randy Orton, Shawn Michaels, John Cena, Triple H, and Trish Stratus pulled Carlito's hair while Carlito scowled and crossed his arms, his annoyance growing steadily with each tug and giggle. Maria continued whacking Candice, Candice continued to attempt to avoid her, Sabu continued to run in circles and grab at something that wasn't there, and Kurt Angle continued staring at Sabu's pants and drooling. Matt Hardy kept his listless gaze skyward, JBL still looking for diapers so Vince could change him. Edge and Lita stood alone on the other side of the ring, whispering, Edge still holding his groin. Batista dutifully kept his eyes on Rey, and Booker T watched them while contemplatively sucking his thumb, Sharmell by his side. Rob Van Dam, who had sat on the ropes and watched all that had happened silently, resumed bouncing on the ropes—and Khali lay on the ground, unmoving, while Shane McMahon and Jonathan Coachman watched them all.

Meanwhile, Vincent Kennedy McMahon was getting one monster headache.

And he had thought they were bad when they were adults.

Wow. This chapter turned out long. O.O;; Sorry. It just kinda…happened like that. Anyway, hope you liked!

So…review? ;)