Anyone else feel a gaping hole in their heart every time they watch Raw because Triple H isn't there? I certainly am. T.T I never thought I'd miss the dude with big nose and the huge muscles so much, not to mention DX. Shawn Michaels is doing great on his own, but I miss him with Triple H. Raw just isn't the same without H.
And so, as a tribute to Degeneration-X, this chapter, which turned out rather long, will contain plenty of cock-madness and McMahon torture. :D
I know, I know, it took me so long to get this up…I've just been so caught up in my other story. But since those commercials with the WWE superstars as kids started showing, I just had to start writing this again. :D They're all so cute! Especially little Booker. Awww…
LOL. Oh yes. Two people suggested I should do a little sleepover with our five-year-old friends…I like the idea. What about the rest of you? I think it'd be fun, right after I get through these few chapters. :D
Tell me later. Right now, have fun!
Chapter eleven: Discovery
"We found the cock!"
"Hoo-rah!"
"We found the cock!"
"Hoo-rah!"
"We found the cock!"
"Hoo-RAH!"
The cheerful chant echoed through the halls as ten five-year-old WWE superstars marched to Vince McMahon's office, Shawn Michaels, Triple H, and John Cena in the lead. H and Cena ferried the Miz above their heads while Shawn, leading the chant, marched in front of them. Randy Orton and Undertaker walked behind them, Edge trailing close to Randy, looking uneasily at the Miz. Lita walked with him, and Rey Mysterio hobbled alongside her, doing a series of little dances as he went, chanting loudly: "Fwound Cwock!" Kane took up the rear, silent and brooding, his arms crossed.
"Big Oily Guy is going to be so happy with us!" Shawn said excitedly, turning to beam at his companions.
"Hoo-RAH!" Miz cried, pumping his fist into the air in triumph.
"We're going to make him all better!" Randy agreed, clapping. Undertaker grinned at him and placed his hat on his head, and they both exchanged high-fives. Randy turned to Edge, who raised a hand, still eyeing Miz uncertainly. They slapped high-fives, and Undertaker's eyes narrowed slightly, though he also struck Edge's raised hand with his own.
"We found the cock!" Triple H shouted again, and the others soon joined him, their incantation resumed.
"We found the cock!"
"Hoo-RAH!"
"Hey! Shawn!"
Shawn stopped, holding out an arm to indicate to halt the procession. They were standing by another hallway, and Shawn heard a familiar voice call his name. He looked around, and grinned when he saw who it was.
"RVD!" he called, waving to the other boy, who was making his way slowly down the hall. He looked like he was dragging something—something big—along. Another boy walked in this same peculiar manner beside him. Seven other boys and one girl followed them, five Shawn didn't recognize, Bobby Lashley, who appeared rather nervous, and Kurt Angle, who was carrying an armful of Red Bulls and drooling all over the cans.
"Hey guys!" RVD called, and Shawn and his eight companions waved back. Shawn immediately ran to them, followed closely by the others.
RVD grinned when they arrived, and stopped. He wiped his forehead, and dropped whatever he had been dragging. "Man. This is one heavy fish," he remarked, and Sabu nodded his agreement, releasing the unknown luggage with a soundless gasp.
Shawn regarded Sabu a moment, unsure who he was, then questioned, "Fish?" He walked around RVD, and gasped when he saw the limp form of Paul Heyman. "Whoa! It's huge!"
"What is it?" Triple H asked, making a face as he stepped up beside Shawn.
"It smells, whatever it is," Cena said, his nose wrinkling in distaste.
Edge took a step toward Heyman, faintly curious, but Randy snatched his shoulder. "Don't get to close, Edge," he warned, eyeing the limp form of Heyman mistrustfully. "It could be dangerous." Edge, slightly alarmed, retreated closer to Randy. Undertaker, appraising them out of the corner of his eye, moved closer, raising an arm to move the both back.
"It's a fishy," Bobby informed them, rather anxiously.
"Big fish," Tommy Dreamer added, and threw his arms out to emphasize his point, consequently smacking Matt Striker across the face. Striker grunted in pain and surprise and fell to the ground, holding his nose.
"Huge," Triple H agreed, slightly mystified.
"Bigger than your nose," Sandman remarked, took a swig of his Red Bull, and released a loud belch while Triple H glared at him, Cena snickering beside him.
"Pretty cool," Lita said, and then pointed to the Miz, who sat by Triple H and Cena, grinning. "But we got something cooler."
"What is that?" Rob Van Dam questioned, his eyes slightly wide. Shawn grinned proudly.
"It's a cock!" he declared.
"A cock?" Tommy Dreamer echoed in disbelief, his eyes wide, regarding the Miz with fascination. "No way!"
"Awesome!" Matt Striker cried. He leapt upright at once, but CM Punk, who was just as amazed, swiped the hand with his plastic dagger to the side at the same time, and smacked Striker outside the head. Matt went down yet again.
"It's a big cock," Punk said, mystified.
"Huge!" Rob said excitedly. "I've never seen one so big!"
"Hoo-RAH!" Miz agreed, pumping a fist into the air.
"Big enough for Big Oily Guy, do you think?" Cena grinned, appraising Miz.
"Wotally!" Rey cried, throwing up one tiny fist. Rob nodded his assent.
"Who's this Big Oily Guy?" Kevin asked, dimly perplexed.
"A pansy, no doubt," Sandman said grimly, and crushed his empty can to his forehead.
"One lucky guy, that's for sure," Tommy Dreamer said wistfully, "to get such a big cock."
"When I grow up, I'm going to have a cock like that one," CM Punk declared, crossing his arms and lifting his chin proudly.
"Me, too," Shawn agreed.
"Me, too!" Cena and Triple H both announced simultaneously, and glared at each other.
"My cock will be bigger than yours!" Triple H asserted acidly, crossing his arms.
"You wish, moron," Cena retorted with an unaffected smirk.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"Well I bet your cock will be smaller than an ant!"
"Well I bet your cock will be smaller than your brain!"
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"Well, well—" Triple H struggled a moment, hunting for something cutting to say. Failing to do so, he made up for the lack of a retort by sticking out his tongue and blowing Cena a nice raspberry. Cena was quick to return the gesture fiercely.
"Pansies," Sandman commented gruffly. "Both your cocks will be smaller than your masked midget over there." He gestured toward Rey, and snatched another can from Kurt, who looked slightly crestfallen at the loss.
"Well, let's get the cock to Big Oily Guy," Randy said. He and 'Taker walked up to Miz, surmounting him upon their shoulders. "The big fish, too. Maybe when he's happy, he'll know how to make Mr. Fish happy, too!" He grinned at Edge, who grinned back, assuming his place beside him. Undertaker eyed them, but said nothing.
"Let's go!" Shawn said. Rob and Sabu lifted Paul Heyman's legs, and the group of five-year-olds set off once more.
…
Shane McMahon, following suit of Kane and the Miz, was attempting to solve a little bit of a problem. Just a small plight, really. Infinitesimal. Insignificant. Hardly worth mentioning. And utterly inescapable, as Shane O' Mac had recently discovered.
Shane's problem was not green fairies attempting to steal his rubber ducky, nor slimy, crawling worms seeking to shred his sanity. Instead, the younger McMahon's situation consisted of two female five-year-olds, by the name of Trish Stratus and Candice Michelle, who seemed to have completely fixated on him. They followed him around ceaselessly, no matter where he went, their cheeks red, their eyes sparkling. Both girls had tried to kiss him more than once, and they kept hugging him. Hugging him.
On top of all that, Maria seemed to have made it her sole mission in life to give Shane O' Mac a nice whack in any and all exposed body parts with her spoon.
For these reasons, Shane McMahon now hid beneath the announcer's table, desperate for a hiding place from the three girls who had been stalking him. He had endeavored to flee into the stands, even under the ring, but both times they had pursued undaunted. He had a throbbing bruise on his brow where he'd been smacked with a spoon, and a moist spot on his cheek Stratus had kissed him to show for it.
SMACK!
It seemed Maria's aspiration had been accomplished yet again.
Shane McMahon cried out, and tried to stand, forgetting the fact he was under a table. As a result, he slammed his head into the bottom—hard. Dazed, he scrambled out on his hands and knees, and looked around. Maria stood, smiling triumphantly, her spoon in hand. Trish Stratus was snapping something at her, appearing extremely angry.
"How dare you do that to Mr. Shane?" she admonished indignantly. "You—"
Shane heard no more, because someone gave him a very loud and very wet kiss on his cheek. He recoiled, wide-eyed and horrified. Candice stood there, her cheeks sanguine, giggling and regarding him with sparkling eyes.
Shane stood there for a moment, his head throbbing, holding his cheek, unable to believe this was happening to him. Then he released a loud, angry bellow, and whirled to face Coach, who was with Batista, Carlito, and JBL on the other side of the ring. "Coach!"
Coach flinched.
"Yes?" he asked feebly. Batista moved in front of JBL and Carlito, his eyes narrowed.
"We are going to find my father," Shane said hotly, and stomped away from Candice, Maria, and Stratus and past Coach, out of the arena. Coach winced a second time and followed. Batista, JBL, and Carlito exchanged glances, and pursued them.
…
Vince McMahon awakened with a start. He surveyed his surroundings, sure he would find himself surrounded by little five-year-old monsters with large, gleaming eyes. When he did not, he stood slowly, not convinced he was alone. He scanned the room carefully, cautiously, and his eyes settled on the desk. He approached it, certain they were under it, just waiting to jump out at him. He gradually leaned over it, and then abruptly looked under, only to find no one there.
He was alone.
Vince withdrew, straightening, and fell back into his chair with a sigh of relief. Finally. He was alone. Those little beasts were nowhere to be seen.
"Dad?"
Vince looked up. Shane McMahon, evidently enraged, Jonathan Coachman, looking timid and unsure, and Carlito, Batista, and JBL, stood in the doorway, the children peeking around Coach's legs at Vince. The older McMahon scowled at the sight of them, and regarded his son. "What?"
Shane walked into the room, followed closely by Coach and the kids. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a cheerful incantation that came from the hallway, moving closer.
"We found the cock!"
"Hoo-rah!"
"We found the cock!"
"Hoo-RAH!"
Vince, Coach, and Shane flinched in unison. Batista blinked. Carlito cocked his head to the side, and JBL rolled his eyes, muttering. The small face of five-year-old Shawn Michaels appeared in the doorway, and his eyes lit up when he saw Vince. "Big Oily Guy! You're alive! Are you happy?" He ran up to Vince, and stood before him, hands clasped behind his back, eyes huge and bright. Any other observer would have thought he looked adorable. Vince thought the child looked like a repulsive little monster, bent on shredding his sanity.
Speaking of repulsive miniature beasts intent on destroying Vince McMahon's precious sanity, Triple H and John Cena came in then, carrying another five-year-old above their heads, one which looked vaguely like the Miz. Coach and Shane both blinked, and Vince scowled. Wonderful. More little brats.
"He's alive!" Triple H cried excitedly, and clapped, almost causing Cena to drop Miz. "You're gonna be so happy with us!"
"He's gonna be happier with me," Cena said smugly.
"No, he's not!" Triple H retorted, making a face at Cena. "He's gonna be happier with me."
"Me, you idiot!" Cena snapped, his smirk quickly turning into a scowl.
"I found the cock!" Triple H shot back, snatching Miz from Cena.
"No, you didn't!" Cena said angrily, retrieving Miz so fiercely he nearly threw the smaller boy over his shoulder.
"Yeah I did!" Triple H snatched the Miz's arm and pulled him away from Cena again, stepping back.
"No!" Cena advanced and pulled Miz from Triple H, glaring at the other boy with nothing less than antipathy.
"Yeah!"
"Nu-uh!"
"Huh-uh!"
"Hoo-rah?"
Vince, Coach, and Shane regarded the two boys bewilderedly, unsure what they were talking about. Cock? Coach thought. What—?
"Come on, guys!" Shawn called, ignoring his two dueling friends. Undertaker emerged, regarding Vince with conspicuously suppressed excitement, followed closely by Edge and Randy Orton, both with anticipation in their eyes. Rey Mysterio hobbled in after them, his immense optics alight. Lita was by his side, one hand on his shoulder. Kane walked in after them, startling Coach, and irritating the two McMahon's.
Surprising Coach and irritating Vince and Shane even further, three other five-year-olds, donning cardboard and tinfoil armor, toting with plastic swords, came in a moment later.. Coach was the first to recognize the one with shoulder-length black hair. "CM Punk?"
Punk regarded him, and smirked. "That's my name, Baldie, don't wear it out. You Big Oily Guy?"
Coach blinked. "Uh…"
"Nu-huh," Shawn said, and pointed to Vince. "He's Big Oily Guy." Vince's eye twitched.
CM Punk crossed his arms and scoffed. "Him? He doesn't look so great to me. Just another old, grey geezer. I thought he'd be more…hero-like. Like Superman. Not my grandpa." That time both of Vince's eyes twitched, along with the rest of his body. His fingers clenched and unclenched, and he glared venomously at Punk.
"Looks cool to me," Tommy Dreamer said. He leaned an elbow on Punk's shoulder, inadvertently causing his sword to protrude behind them.
"Yeah!" Matt Striker agreed, and attempted to step up behind them. His gaze was locked on Vince, and he did not see the blade pointing directly at him. He ended up walking straight into it, poking himself in the eye. He cried out and drew back, hand over his face.
Kevin Thorn, Ariel, and Sandman walked in then, followed by Kurt Angle, who was still carrying—and drooling all over—Sandman's Red Bulls, and Bobby Lashley, who looked very nervous but also excited.
"How many of you are there?" Shane questioned hotly, his fists shaking in rising ire.
"More than you can handle, pansy," Sandman recounted, grabbing another Red Bull from Kurt. He took a swig of it, and burped loudly and clearly as Shane glared at him.
Rob Van Dam and Sabu appeared in the doorway, beads of sweat lining on their foreheads. "Yo, guys, mind helping us get this thing through the door?" Rob called, and Sabu nodded vigorously.
"OK!" Randy and 'Taker both ran to them, and disappeared out the door. Rob and Sabu continued in, and now the McMahon's and Coach, beginning to be slightly bewildered, could see they were dragging something large. As Rob and Sabu commenced into the doorway, the McMahon's and their Executive Assistant now saw whatever they were pulling along had legs—human legs. Coach blinked. Vince scowled, thought there was bewilderment in his expression as well. Shane rubbed his eyes, as if he did not believe what he was seeing.
"Heyman?" Coach said in shock and confusion, when he saw the face of who the four five-year-olds dragged. "Paul Heyman?"
The Hell? Vince and Shane thought, blinking.
"Heyman?" Bobby said, looking from Coach to the limp form of Paul Heyman. "Is that the fishy's name?"
Fishy? What the—? Coach, Vince, and Shane regarded the scene before them in utter unbelief, Shane rubbing his eyes again.
"Heyman?" Edge jumped a little, his eyes widening. He ran up to Heyman, and leaned over him, his hands going to his mouth. Suddenly, he burst into tears. Randy and Lita, alarmed, hurried to his side.
"What now?" Triple H questioned exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. Undertaker regarded Edge suspiciously, appraising the way Randy hugged him with narrowed eyes.
"The fishy…" Edge sobbed, clutching Randy and regarding Heyman with fearful eyes. "He's…he's…one of the evil fish from the bottom of the sea!" And he burst into fresh tears.
Triple H and Cena rolled their eyes, along with JBL. Shawn, Tommy Dreamer, Rob, Randy, and Carlito all gasped in unison. Kevin Thorn, Ariel, and Batista blinked, as did Lita, though she didn't look all too surprised. Undertaker looked mistrustfully at Edge, while CM Punk and Sandman regarded the sobbing boy with raised eyebrows. Sabu jumped back, looking startled and horrified.
"Evil fish from the bottom of the sea!" Rob cried. "Holy cripes, man!"
"Cwipes!" Rey echoed, and giggled. "Evwil fwish cwome fwom swea bwottwom."
"Cripes is right," Tommy Dreamer said, mystified. "No wonder it's psychotic."
"Psychotic? You mean, it's a psycho?" Randy cried, and clutched Edge's arm. "Oh, man! It can read minds!"
Edge nodded, the tears still streaming down his face. "It don't eat brains, like the chickens, but it reads them. I-It's j-just as b-bad."
"Hey, it's OK," Lita soothed, putting her arms around Edge. "Maybe it's a nice fish. Not like those chickens who stole Big Oily Guy's brain." Vince's eye twitched at this.
"Y-Yeah?" Edge wiped away the moisture on his cheeks, his sobs diminished to sniffles.
"Yeah!" Rob spoke up, inspired. "He's a good fish. He saved our friend Daivari before!"
"R-Really?" Edge regarded Heyman, and smiled. It was a smile which vaguely struck Coach even in his confounded state, sweet and bright and yet almost sad. "Maybe he is nice then!"
"Yeah!" Tommy Dreamer agreed. "And even if he isn't, we're here to take…him…down." He twirled once, brandishing his swords to emphasize his proclaimed skills. CM Punk nodded, and took position at his side, holding out his daggers.
"Yeah!" Matt Striker regained his feet with an energetic leap and imitated Dreamer, not seeing the other boy's sword, and consequently received yet another smack across the face.
"Not to mention me and 'Taker," Randy said. "We'd kick his—"
"Randy," Shawn interjected sternly, and Randy grinned sheepishly at him.
"OK!" Edge said, and he and Randy slapped high-fives. Edge turned to 'Taker, who regarded him with a look that was not quite friendly, but also struck his raised hand.
Triple H rolled his eyes. "Babies."
"Pansies." Sandman snatched a can from Kurt, downed half the liquid in one gulp, and released a loud, clear burp.
Cena turned to Vince, and shifted his gaze to the Miz, who sat grinning by Triple H. He looked at Vince again. "You don't look too happy, Big Oily Guy," he observed, and Vince twitched. "But it's OK!" His eyes lit up. "We've got something that'll make you really happy!"
"With me, more than him, anyway," Triple H added smugly, and Cena scowled at him.
"You'll be happy with all of us!" Shawn exclaimed. He grabbed the Miz, and offered him to Vince. The Chairman of the WWE twitched again. "Look! It's your lost cock! We found it!"
Coach flinched, Shane blinked, and Mr. McMahon gaze yet another twitch, this time twice. His fingers clenched into fists, shaking in barely contained rage.
"It's a very big cock," Randy said cheerfully as he, Edge, and Undertaker walked up to them. "Have you ever seen one so big?"
"As big as your lost one?" 'Taker questioned, regarding Vince with excitement and the slightest trace of apprehension.
"It better be," Kane muttered, his arms crossed. "I'm not looking for another one."
Shawn placed the Miz in Vince's lap, and Vince recoiled, pulling his hands away with a grimace of disgust. "Here you go! Aren't you so happy with us?" And he grinned at Vince, eyes sparkling.
"Hoo-RAH!" Miz shouted, right in Vince's face.
Vince scowled, grabbed Miz, and placed him back with Shawn. He stood, and began to pace the room, muttering incoherently under his breath. Coach winced, and Shane regarded his father with what was almost fear. Shawn and the others watched Vince in silent anticipation.
A moment later Vince halted, and turned to the children. "You know what?" he said hotly, hands clenched into fists, struggling not to sound angry. "I'm so…happy with you…we're gonna go on a little field trip…to the playground."
Shane and Coach both jumped a little, startled. "Father—?" Shane questioned in unison with Coach, who spoke uncertainly: "Mr. McMahon—?"
For a moment, the children held no response. Then, beginning with Shawn and spreading to the others, a loud, excited cheer erupted in the room. Randy, 'Taker, and Edge all slapped high fives, as did Triple H, Cena, and Shawn. Rey, cheering, hobbled around the room, hugging everyone he came across.
Vince flinched, scowling. "Let's go," he muttered, and strode out the door, followed closely by his son. The twenty five-year-olds followed close behind, cheering. Coach, bewildered, pursued them, glancing once more at Paul Heyman before walking out.
…
"Johnny, I really think you should—"
"Quiet, Joey!"
"But, John, just look—"
"I said, shut up!"
"Johnny—"
"Shut up!"
"But, Johnny—"
"Will you just be quiet!"
"Man, just look—"
"Shut up!"
"Johnny—"
CRASH.
"—never mind." Joey Mercury rolled his eyes, peering down at the untidy heap of broken table, from which protruded Johnny Nitro's twitching arm. Nitro had been standing on the less than sturdy piece of furniture only a moment before, attempting to give the Hardy brothers, who watched on the other side of the room with Eric Bischoff and Michael Cole, a speech. Most likely, this was intended as a misguided attempt to impress Melina, who stood nearby, one eyebrow raised. The table had inevitably collapsed under his weight.
Johnny Nitro sat up, pushing the splintered wood off himself, his face twisted in pain, one hand on his back. "Why didn't you tell me it was about to fall!" he snapped at Mercury.
"I tried to, man, but you never listen," Joey said, and glanced up at Melina. "Trying to impress her." Melina rolled her eyes, her arms crossed.
"FallfallfallBOOM!" Jeff Hardy, who was jumping up and down beside his brother, cried excitedly. He slammed himself down in imitation, consequently banging his head on the floor—hard. He lay there, motionless. Bischoff blinked down at him, and Matt rolled his eyes to the ceiling, looking exasperated and bored.
Suddenly, making them all jump (besides Matt, who only raised an eyebrow, not looking like he really cared, and Jeff, who only lay there), a loud, gleeful cry came from the other side of the door. It was thrown open, revealing another five-year-old girl, leaping up and down excitedly, wearing the exact same clothes as Melina, as well as possessing the same dark red hair.
Melina gasped, shocked. Mercury blinked, as did a nonplussed Eric Bischoff. Matt Hardy's eyebrow went higher, and Johnny Nitro emerged from underneath the broken table, his mouth falling open when he saw the girl.
She bounded up to Melina, and grinned at her. She only stood there, making slight bouncing movements though her feet never left the ground.
"Melina has a twin?" Bischoff questioned, bewildered.
"That's not Melina's twin!" Johnny Nitro cried, sounding offended.
"That's Mickie James," Joey Mercury said, blinking.
"You!" Melina snarled, looking both surprised and infuriated. "What are you doing in my clothes?"
"You!" Mickie James echoed, imitating Melina's snarl. "What are you doing in my clothes?"
Melina scowled. "Don't copy me!"
Mickie James likewise scowled. "Don't copy me!" She giggled.
"Oh great," Matt Hardy mumbled sarcastically. "Two Melina's. Just what this world needs."
Meanwhile, Jeff Hardy abruptly snapped to his feet. One could almost discern the hearts in his eyes as he regarded Mickie James, bouncing up and down, a large grin spreading across his face. Matt Hardy glanced at his brother, saw the look in his wide, exulted eyes, and rolled his own to the ceiling. Oh great.
Jeff bounded over to Melina and Mickie, waving vigorously at that latter girl. Mickie giggled and waved back. Jeff flushed with delight, his jumps becoming even more enthusiastic, if that was possible.
"C'mon," Matt muttered to Michael Cole, not wanting to see what would transpire between his brother and Mickie. He proceeded to drag the other boy out of the room, Cole motioning to Eric Bischoff to follow. Bewildered, the former GM of Raw complied. Joey Mercury grabbed an irate Johnny Nitro's arm, who in turn grabbed an even more irate Melina, and the two boys led her away in pursuit of Bischoff, Hardy, and Cole. Mickie James soon followed, but before she walked out the door—or more accurately, bounced out the door—she turned and blew Jeff a kiss.
Jeff Hardy was stricken by the imaginary kiss as though by a bat. He teetered a moment, his face sanguine, and then collapsed. He proceeded to do a series of involuntary backward summersaults, rolling back into a chair, which then teetered much as he had, and fell back, crashing into the cupboards behind it. The cupboards flew open, spitting out a pair of large bags. The bags landed on the chair with a soft thump, rolled along it, then flew over it and came to rest on Jeff Hardy's head. There they burst, burying the small boy in their white, powdery contents.
Jeff sat up abruptly, curious. He dipped his finger in the pallid powder, and put it in his mouth. He then began to jump up and down in delight, as he realized what it was.
Sugar.
Uh-oh…Jeff found sugar. Lot's of it. Bad for Bischoff (especially Bischoff) and our five-year-old friends…good for us. ;)
Poor Paul Heyman, left there all alone. But who cares—they're all going to the playground! Can I get a hoo-RAH!
LOL. Anyway, hope to see your reviews!