A/N: I don't own the wrestlers! I do own Pixie. As always, it's meant in fun.

The Mizard Of Odd

Chapter 9: Miz Has Breakfast – Sort Of

Pixie's plan was simple. "Even this room full of idiots should be able to get this one right," the cat said, settling on Miz's lap with a purr. "They do a bed check every night, but if you wait until after it's done, you ought to be able to make it pretty far before they discover that the lot of you are gone. You can sneak out the back way…"

"There's a back way?" Miz asked JJ.

"Sure," he said with a shrug, "but it's locked and they have cameras watching it."

"That won't be a problem," Pixie said.

"She says that won't be a problem," Miz related.

"And she also said that you should all bow down before me and let me save your souls," Punk said. "Be a part of straightedge and when we get to heaven, you can all say you knew me way back when."

"She did not say that," Miz said, irritated.

"Hey, you interpret the messages your way, and I'll do it mine," Punk said.

"You aren't helping," Miz told Punk.

Punk shrugged. "You're entitled to your opinion."

"Yeah," Pixie said, "he's crazy. Just ignore the straightedge Jesus and let's get on with this, shall we?"

"Sure," Miz said. "So how are you going to get us past the door?"

You'll need a distraction," Pixie said. "I'd advise getting Mark to do it."

"I'm not sure I trust that guy," Miz said.

"What guy?" Randy asked, his eyes narrowing. "Are you talking about me?"

"Is he always this paranoid?" Miz asked Christian.

"His medication must be wearing thin," Christian said.

"Now I know you're talking about me," Randy said. "And you're getting the voices angry. The urge to kill is rising…"

"Tell him he's a vital part of the plan," Pixie advised.

"I wasn't talking about you, Randy," Miz said. "You're an extremely important part of this plan, and I need your help."

"You do?" Randy asked, blinking. "Er, well. Okay."

"Great," the cat said. "Now he won't kill you. We just need to figure out what he can do to keep him happy for a few days."

"She says we need to eat our vegetables," Punk announced.

"A few days?" Miz said. "Why so long?"

"Because you're going to need some time to get together what we need."

"Terrific," Miz muttered. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"A few more days won't kill you… probably," Pixie said. "You just have to keep Orton happy. Other than that, the rest of them may be nuisances, but they aren't dangerous."

"Do you know that for sure?" Miz asked. He lowered his voice so only the cat could hear. "I suspect one of them might be rabid."

"Just Orton," the cat repeated.

"She says you should all offer me your desserts tonight," Punk announced, "and drink more Pepsi."

"Does the cat have a station that doesn't broadcast commercials?" Matt asked.

"No," Punk said.

Miz stared down at the cat. "Really? Days?"

"Just ignore them," Pixie advised.

"That may be hard to do."

"Try anyway."

Miz sighed. "Right, okay. So when will you tell me what we need?"

The cat jumped down from Miz's lap. "Tonight. I'll come see you once everyone's asleep and we'll talk then. Be sure and take your meds at dinner. We don't want the staff to get suspicious."

"I took them last night, didn't I?" Miz muttered.

"Probably," Pixie said. "See you tonight." She scampered away.

"So?" Christian asked. "What's she saying?"

"She left," JJ said.

"Oh. Okay, well, what did she say?" Christian amended.

"Take my meds tonight."

Matt said, "So she does Pepsi commercials and tells you to eat your vegetables and take your meds. Your talking cat is boring."

"Come on, Drew," JJ said.

Matt got very quiet. "What did you call me?"

"Drew," JJ said again. Then he realized what he'd said. "Oh hell."

"Grawr!" Matt yelled, grabbing the nearest chair and leveraging himself onto the table. He stomped across it, shouting, "Rawr! Grr!"

"Oh, great," Punk muttered. "You just had to say it, didn't you, JJ?"

"Uh," Miz said, as Matt stomped on his breakfast, syrup splattering every which way. "What is he doing?"

"Rooor!" Matt shouted, giving an especially vicious stomp to JJ's plate. The plate shattered and the remnants of the man's breakfast flew and hit Christian squarely in the chest.

"What's this?" Christian asked, touching the leftover pancakes. His expression when from puzzled to horrified in a moment. "Wh-what is going on? Have I been shot?" He patted the loose, gloopy pancakes in a panic. "That's it, isn't it? I've been shot and this is my heart and I'm dying! I can't see! Everything's going black."

"That's because you're not wearing your glasses," Punk said, dragging Miz with him away from the rampaging Matt. On the other side of the table, JJ was pulling Christian away.

"I'm dying, you idiot!" Christian snapped at Punk. "So I feel justified in saying this. You're not Jesus and I hate Pepsi."

"What?" Punk gasped. "Blasphemy! How can you hate Pepsi?"

"You're fine," JJ said to Christian. "Drew stepped in my pancakes."

"Rawr!" Matt screamed, stomping even harder across the table.

"Great," Punk said, "now he's going to be like this all day."

Miz stared up at Matt. "Who is he this time?"

Punk sighed. "This is his fourth personality. We only see it when he's really upset or angry."

"Who is he supposed to be?"

"Godzilla."

Miz blinked, turning to stare at Punk. "I'm sorry. I must not have heard you right. Did you say Godzilla?"

Punk was glaring at JJ. "That's what I said, yes."

"Someone call the medical staff before I bleed to death!" Christian wailed.

"What's going on in here?" Will demanded, pushing through the doorway from the kitchen.

"I'm dying!" Christian sobbed.

"Grorw!" Matt shouted, stomping.

Punk pointed to JJ. "He said the name."

"Don't point at me!" Orton shrieked, right before diving across the table to tackle Punk.

Mark looked mournfully at Will. "Breakfast is ruined," he said sadly. "And now I'll never get to dance class on time. I'm training to be a ballerina, you know."

Miz sighed and slipped out of the chaotic room, his head pounding. "A couple more days of this?" he asked.

"You'll manage," Pixie said, standing up from the chair in the corner and stretching.

Miz sank into the chair that sat opposite. "How?" he asked. "This place is a madhouse. Even if I wasn't crazy, a few days here would probably change that."

"It takes patience, that's all." The cat sat in the chair, curling her tail around her feet.

"I'm not sure I have it."

"Don't worry, you'll find it," Pixie said. "I have faith in you."

"Well, that makes one of us," Miz muttered. "Couldn't you just tell me what the plan is now?"

"No," the cat said.

"Why not?"

She closed her eyes. "Because I haven't thought one up yet."