O.O Oh my God…I actually have a hundred reviews! Thank you SO much, you guys! I am eternally grateful. :D

All right, short chapter. Before I move on to the other wrestlers, I wanted to have some more fun with DX, Cena, and Edge. No McMahon-torture in this one, but there will be plenty of that next chapter…-insert maniacal laughter here-

Enjoy!

"Mr. Coach?"

Jonathan Coachman was jerked suddenly from the light doze he had been in. He lifted his head from the table, and found himself staring into the large, eager eyes of five-year-old Shawn Michaels.

Coach blinked, and sat up. Michaels had hoisted himself up onto the announcer's table where Coach sat, his chin resting on his arm, his legs dangling idly. Triple H stood beside him, one arm around his friend's waist, peering enquiringly at Coach. John Cena stood on Shawn's other side, one hand resting on his shoulder, also regarding the GM of Raw eagerly. Edge stood behind them, his arms crossed over his chest, watching Cena closely.

Coach considered them, for a moment unsure of where he was or how he had gotten there. He looked around, blinking, and it all came back.

They were in the arena once more, and the other Wrestlers who had somehow been turned into five-year-old children were gathered in the ring, seated in an awkward circle. Randy, 'Taker, RVD, Mysterio, Batista, and Hardy were taking turns talking, presumably recounting the tale of their recent adventure at Toys-R-Us, while the other's listened, regarding them fascination—and even some envy. Lita was the only one not in the circle; she sat on the edge of the ring, her head resting in her arms on the second rope, watching Edge.

Coach recalled he had been fairly startled when he, Shawn, Triple H, Cena, Edge, Orton, 'Taker, RVD, Rey, Batista, and Hardy had entered the arena, to find the other Wrestlers turned five year olds were still there. The ten superstars who had accompanied Coach immediately ran off to join the others, and Coach had retired to the announcer's table, where he had eventually dozed off, though had not yet submerged completely into sleep.

The McMahon's weren't here at the moment—Vince had, immediately upon their arrival back here, stomped off to his office, without a word to his son or Executive Assistant. Shane had gone after his father, looking concerned.

"Um…Coach?" Shawn repeated, breaking his train of thought.

"Yes?" Coach inquired, regarding him.

"Where do babies come from?"

Coach nearly choked on the breath he had been in the midst of taking, and came dangerously close to falling backwards right out of the chair. The question was completely and utterly unexpected, and, only to make matters worse, not one the General Manager of Raw was accustomed to being asked.

"Uh-uh…" Coach sputtered out, barely managing to keep himself from tumbling out of the chair. "W-what was that?"

"Where do—" Triple H began.

"—babies—" Shawn continued.

"—come from?" Cena finished. The three looked expectantly at Coach, leaning in to hear better, their eyes full of anticipation.

"Uh…well…" Coach frowned, unsure of how exactly to respond. How was he supposed to explain that to three—four, if Edge, who was now considering Coach with slight interest, could be counted—five-year-olds appropriately?

John Cena's eyes narrowed at his plight. "Coach?"

"Maybe he doesn't know," Triple H suggested, looking slightly disappointed.

"But he must!" Shawn insisted. "He's a growed-up! Growed-ups know everything!"

Cena, The Game, and Shawn turned back to Coach, and stared at him almost without blinking, waiting expectantly.

"Uh…well…" Coach stammered, realizing now with dismay the heat was beginning to rise in his cheeks. "You see…there's this…thing…and…uh…this other…thing..."

Cena's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Uh…well…" Coach shook his head. "Come here," he said, and motioned for them to come around the table to him. The three immediately obeyed, Shawn leaping into his lap without hesitation, the other two plopping down on the floor Indian-style. Coach looked around, and saw Edge was crouched beside the table, peeking around it uncertainly. "You too, Edge." The blond child superstar hesitated, then crawled out. He sat there on his knees, keeping his distance from Cena and H, who were both glaring at him now.

Coach sighed. "OK…well…there's this…uh…thing like a fish, and…"

"Is it a goldfish?" Cena inquired.

"…What?"

"The fish. Is it like a goldfish?"

"Uh…"

Triple H's eyes lit up. "Can I have a goldfish?"

"Um…"

"Oh! I want a goldfish too!" Shawn exclaimed, clapping and jumping up and down on Coach's leg excitedly.

"Me, too!" John agreed.

Triple H flashed him a heated glance. "My goldfish would be so much cooler than yours."

John scowled at him. "Oh you wish, Hunter," he spat.

Shawn considered them, debated, and then opted to ignore them. He turned back to Coach, grinning broadly. "Can I have a goldfish, Mr. Coach?"

"Uh…" Coach blinked again.

"Can we name it Mr. Goldie?" Triple H asked.

"Well…"

"That's a stupid name!" John scoffed, crossing his arms and scowling at The Game.

"You have a stupid name!" Triple H shot back.

"Oh, you're sure one to talk, Triple H."

"Shut up, Cena!"

"Michaels has a stupid name," Edge sneered, smirking.

"Hey—"

Shawn giggled. "Why don't we give it a really stupid name, like Mr. Cena Goldie Hunter Michaels!" he suggested, grinning.

"OK!" Triple H and Cena agreed immediately, and both flashed Edge one last warning glare, to which he responded with a wider smirk.

"Uh…it's…not a goldfish…" Coach recounted uncertainly, becoming more and more uncomfortable by the second.

"It's not?" Shawn questioned, looking slightly disappointed.

"Uh…no…"

"But can we still have a goldfish?" Cena asked, sounding a little uncertain now.

"You'll…have to…ask your parents…"

"Oh." The three looked down, their shoulder's slumping.

"But you can name it whatever you want."

"Oh!" the three exclaimed in unison, their faces lighting up again.

"So what's the other thing?" Edge questioned. Triple H and Cena snarled at him.

"Well…it's…uh…like an egg…"

"What hatches from it?" Shawn asked.

"…Huh?"

"If it's an egg, something has to hatch from it," he said, nodding as though to confirm it.

"Uh…"

Edge gasped. "Does that mean we hatch from eggs?" he cried, looking horrified. "Like…chickens?"

"Um…"

Cena frowned. "Does that mean we start out as chickens?"

"Well…"

"We…we…start out as chickens?" Edge cried, horrified, and suddenly burst into tears. "I-I don'twanna be a chicken!" he sobbed, burying his face in his hands.

Cena made a face. "Baby."

Coach swallowed. After letting Shawn down from his lap, he went to Edge, and lifted the sobbing child. "Um…hey…it's OK, we don't start out as chickens," he said, giving the blond Canadian an awkward hug.

Edge looked up at him with eyes shining with tears, sniffling. "We d-don't?"

Coach shook his head. "No."

Edge wiped his eyes, looking relieved. "Oh. OK."

Coach brought him back to the chair, and sat down, Edge in his lap. Shawn climbed back into his lap as well, and patted Edge's shoulder sympathetically. "It's OK, Edge. Chickens are birds. We aren't," he said soothingly.

Edge nodded, sniffing. "They're evil," he said quietly.

Cena scoffed, and Triple H rolled his eyes. "Baby," Cena repeated.

Edge snarled and crossed his arms, furiously wiping the tears away. "I just don't like them, OK?" he snapped, his voice wavering slightly.

Shawn's face suddenly lit up. "I bet Big Oily Guy, I mean, Mr. McMahon does!" he exclaimed.

Triple H grinned. "I bet he does," he agreed, and their eyes met.

Coach winced. Something had passed between them then, and nearly identical mischievous smiles touched both their lips. Coach didn't like the looks on their faces. Oh shit…

"So what does hatch from the egg?" Shawn asked, turning back to Coach.

"Um…nothing…really…"

Triple H's brow furrowed. "If nothing hatches from the egg, then why is it there?"

"Uh…well…the…uh…fish…swims…into…the egg…"

"Is it painted?" Cena asked.

Coach blinked yet again. "…Huh?"

"The egg. Is it painted, like an Easter egg?"

"Um…no…I think it's white."

"Oh." Cena nodded. "OK."

"So what happens when the fish swims into the egg?" Edge inquired, his eyes completely dry now.

"Uh…the egg…takes a few months…and turns into the baby."

Shawn, Cena, H, and Edge all exchanged glances, looking confused. "The egg 'turns into' the baby?" Shawn echoed uncertainly.

"Uh…yeah…" Coach nodded.

Edge shook his head. "You don't make any sense, Coach."

Coach swallowed once more. "I don't?"

"No. So where do babies come from, anyway?"

"Uh…"

"Hey!" shouted a new voice, mercifully rescuing Coach from having to attempt to answer the question yet again. They looked around, and saw Randy Orton standing on the second rope, Undertaker beside him, waving in their direction.

"Rob and Sabu are gonna have a jumping contest!" he called, gesturing behind him to RVD and Sabu, who were standing on opposite sides of the ring on the top ropes, eyeing each other.

"Want to judge, guys?" Undertaker questioned.

"Sure!" Shawn said, and leapt out of Coach's lap. He ran to the ring, The Game and Cena following close behind. Lita slipped out of the ring and waved over to Edge, who nodded. He jumped from Coach's lap, waved his farewell, and went to Lita, stuffing his hands in his pockets, beginning to sing something which might have been an early, child version of his theme song.

Coach watched them go, and breathed out a long sigh of relief. Randy, Undertaker, remind me to give you both titles for this, he thought, and rested his head on the table again.

Yes, this was turning out to be a long day…

Heehee…you had to know I'd do this sometime…XD

Start with a brilliant idea from a McMahon, add a fast-talking high-flyer and a disturbed announcer, throw in plenty of McMahon torture, stir in some unbearable cuteness, sprinkle on some apathy and obliviousness, dump in plenty of mutual hatred, mix well with utter chaos, and what do you get? The next chapter of this story!

Review and it'll be up before you can say: "WTF?"