A/N: I don't own the wrestlers! I do own Pixie and Will. Miz Mallows belong to Darkest-Hearts. As always, it's meant in fun.

The Mizard Of Odd

Chapter 18: Miz Learns Something

"So now what?" Punk asked, flopping on his bed with a sigh.

"Maybe we should take a nap," Miz suggested.

"Oh, right," Punk said, "because you've got this plan of yours all worked out and you've shared it with the rest of us."

"It's as shared as it's going to get for a day or two," Miz agreed.

"Come on!" Punk whined. "We're stuck in here and it's boring and the least you could do is tell me what the plan is! I promise, I'm not going to tell a soul."

"Don't tell him!" one of the Miz mallows said. "He's working against you!"

"But I need him," Miz told the box of treats. "I mean, he did steal the key for me and all."

"Did he?" asked the Miz mallow. "Have you seen the key?"

Miz frowned. "No, I haven't. That's a good point. Thank you, Mizbert."

"Mizbert?" Punk echoed.

"One of the Miz mallows," said Miz with a shrug. "So Punk, can I see the key?"

Punk smirked. "Why?"

"Because I want to see it."

"Did Mizbert say you should?"

"Yes," Miz admitted.

"What does he know? He's covered in sugar."

"Mizbert is a girl," Miz informed Punk. "So do you have the key or not?"

"If I show it to you, will you share the plan with me?"

"Mizbert?" Miz asked.

"Sounds reasonable," said Mizbert.

"Sure," Miz said.

Punk sighed and dug the key card out of his pocket, tossing it to Miz. "There. Now you've seen it."

"I guess you were wrong, Mizbert," said Miz.

"My mistake," said Mizbert.

"Mizbert says sorry," Miz told Punk.

"Great. I'm glad to know that a piece of candy admits it was wrong about me."

"Be nice! You're going to hurt her feelings," Miz said.

"And we wouldn't want that," Punk muttered.

"Well, I don't," Miz said. "I don't want to listen to Mizbert cry. She's already had some of the sugar knocked off her, and I'm pretty sure Christian was eyeing her personally when he had this box of Miz mallows."

"For pity's sake, Miz!" said Punk, exasperated. "It's a freaking marshmallow."

"A talking freaking marshmallow," Miz said. "Just like your holy freaking Pepsi."

Punk paused. "Huh. Well, when you put it like that, it sounds slightly less crazy."

"Only slightly, huh?" Miz said.

"Well, it is a talking marshmallow."

"You believe in talking cats but not talking Miz mallows."

"Cats are alive," said Punk with a shrug. "Marshmallows aren't. In fact, I have no idea what marshmallows actually are, and I'm Jesus. That should tell you something."

"It does. It tells me that you're not good at being Jesus."

Punk eyed his roommate. "It's your fault we got sent to our room, you know."

"How do you figure?"

"You gave Jeff gum. You told Orton he might be able to bite and hit people. And you encouraged us all to go to the sunroom, where you suggested that JJ call Matt Drew, which is what gave Orton the idea to do so, which is what lead to that fight…"

Miz sighed. "Okay, you may have a point."

"Thank you," Punk said. "It was a good fight, though."

"It wasn't bad," Miz agreed.

"I'd have liked more blood," Punk said.

"Why?" Miz asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Blood means injuries and injuries mean holy Pepsi," Punk said.

Miz sighed. "You really do have a one track mind, don't you?"

"I have a very complex mind, thank you very much," said Punk with a sniff.

"Well, all you ever seem to talk about are baptisms and holy Pepsi and straightedge."

"Hello! I'm building an empire!" Punk rolled his eyes. "Of course those things are what you hear about the most, but I do talk about other things, too."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Miz challenged.

"Um," Punk said. "We talk about wrestling sometimes. You know, when it's on."

"Wrestling is almost always on," said Miz, "but I have yet to hear anyone mention it."

"We mentioned it tonight!"

"Okay," Miz amended. "I seldom hear it mentioned." He got comfortable on the bed, then looked over at his roommate again. "What's Will deal, anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"He's here pretty much all the time, it seems like."

"Oh." Punk shrugged. "This place has full time staff. They don't just work their forty hours a week and then go home. They live on the premises so they can keep a constant eye on us."

"Hmm," Miz said, scrunching his brow in thought. "So how are we going to get past them?"

"The nurses station is quiet after bed check. They usually go to the staff lounge and watch TV and someone keeps an eye on the monitor in there. You know, watching for anything unusual."

"You know a lot about this, don't you?"

"Yeah," Punk said. "I'm one of the few patients here that's been in the staff quarters."

"Seriously? You've been in the staff quarters? Why?"

Punk shrugged. "They trust me. I've told them I'm not going anywhere and unlike Mark Henry, I don't lie."

"Oh," Miz said. "So I'm going to make a liar out of you?"

"I have to go where the greatest need is," said Punk, "and you and the others need me, like it or not. I'm okay with that."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it."

Punk waved the words away. "So are you going to tell me the plan or not?" he asked.

Miz tossed the key back to Punk, who pocketed it again. "Yeah," he said. "Why not? I think I could use a little help with it, anyway."