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

The Mizard Of Odd

Chapter 83: Miz Wants To Go Out

"I don't want any more Pepsi!" Christian wailed. "Haven't I suffered enough?"

"The patient makes a good point," Miz said. "Maybe you should bring me a shotgun, and we'll end his misery once and for all."

"A what?" Christian shrieked, terrified. "Okay, Punk, I'm sorry! I love Pepsi! Just don't let that psycho shoot me!"

Punk crouched down next to Christian. "I knew you would come to your senses about the Pepsi eventually. I'm not going to let Miz shoot you. It's too messy and resurrections are a pain in the ass."

"Oh, thank God," Christian said.

"Thank Dad," Punk repeated. Then he stood and turned to Miz, who looked disappointed. "You're not shooting anyone."

"Well, it is hard to get a gun when one is hitchhiking to the Netherlands."

"Finland," Punk corrected.

"Bless you," Miz said. "Anyway, I'd best be on my way. I've got an ocean to catch. Do you think they rent surfboards at the beach here?"

"You mean in the Gulf of Mexico?" Punk asked.

"I'm not picky which ocean it is."

Punk sighed. "I really need a couple of Pepsis now."

Just then, Mark arrived, carrying a tray of drinks. "That will be nineteen ninety five!" he chirped. "Plus tax!"

"It's three cans of Pepsi," Punk protested. "And how much is tax, anyway?"

"Um," Mark said, scrunching his face up. "Three dollars."

"Well, if I have to pay tax, then you don't get a tip."

"Hmph! Fine. It's seventeen fifty for the drinks, no tax."

"Still too much," Punk muttered, but he dug out a twenty. "Keep the change."

"Don't do me any favors!" Mark snapped at him. "After all, I'm just a working girl with three kids and a deadbeat ex husband."

Miz appraised Mark. "Deadbeat ex husband? A pretty little thing like you? So what are you doing later, gorgeous?"

"Miz!" Punk said. "Stop that!"

"What? She's single!"

"I think you might regret it in the morning," was all Punk said. He took the first can of Pepsi and popped the top, frowning. "Here goes nothing." And then he dumped the Pepsi over Christian's leg. "How do you feel?"

"I'm cured!" Christian said. "Hooray!"

"Wonderful! Why don't you stand up…" Punk began.

"Oh, I'd really rather not," said Christian hastily. "The altitude, you know."

"We're in Louisiana. Most of the state is below sea level," Punk said.

"Well, the longitude, then!" Christian said.

Miz shifted his gaze between the two of them. "He's not cured at all, is he?"

"Oh, I'm definitely cured," Christian said, sweating. "Yup, very very cured."

"Like a ham," Punk muttered, earning him a glare from Christian. "Let me try another Pepsi."

"I'd like one of those as well, cutie," Miz said, winking at Mark, who giggled like a schoolgirl. "Any chance you could hand me one?"

"Oh, sure," Mark said.

"Wait a second!" Punk said. "Those are mine. I paid for them!"

"Much obliged, then," said Miz, taking the opened can from Mark. "This sure looks good, sweet stuff." He held the can up in a salute, then downed the contents. "Now, what time do you get off work, honey?"

"I'm going to be sick," Punk muttered.

"Me too," Christian said. "But at least you can get away. I'm stuck here, listening to this."

"So baby…" Miz said, then blinked.

"Yes?" Mark asked, batting his eyelashes.

"Uh," Miz said. "Um. What?"

"You were asking me out on a date, I believe," said Mark.

"I was doing what?" Miz asked, horrified. "There's no way in hell I would do that."

"Well, I never!" said Mark with a sniff.

"And you never will!" Miz retorted with a shudder.

"Miz?" Punk asked cautiously.

"What?" Miz turned to his friend. "What happened to Christian?"

"Oh, my Dad!" Punk said, and he hugged his friend. "You're back!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Miz said. "I thought I just made it clear, I only like you guys as friends!"

Christian gave Miz a hopeful look. "So you're not going to shoot me or amputate my leg?"

"What have you guys been smoking?" Miz asked.

"Us? You're the one that was acting weird." Christian paused. "You know what? I think I've got it figured out. It's the Pepsi. There's something wrong with it."

"How dare you!" Punk said. "You can't slander the holy drink! I'll smite you good!"

"Okay, fine," Christian said. "If there's nothing wrong with it, then go ahead and take a drink and tell me that there's nothing wrong with it."

"Mark took the last can with him," said Punk. "And I paid for it, too."

"Have mine," Miz said, holding the can out. "I don't want anymore, anyway."

Punk sighed. "I'm not going to drink after you."

"It's because you're afraid I'm right," Christian said.

"No, it's because Miz is an unclean heathen. No offense, Miz."

"Um, none taken?" Miz said.

"Well, if you won't drink it, maybe we can get Jeff or someone to drink it. I mean, he's brave," said Christian.

"He's stupid enough to take drugs, you mean," Punk said. "Fine, give me the can." He snatched it from Miz's outstretched hand. "I bless this can in the name of the holy Pepsi and me." He smirked at the two of them, then took a huge drink of the Pepsi.

"Well?" Miz asked, anxiously. "How do you feel?"

Punk mused on the words for a moment. "Awesome."

"Really?" Christian asked.

"Of course. I'm the Miz…" He paused and looked at Miz. "And you're an imposter!"

"Oh my God, it's the Pepsi!" Christian moaned. "That explains why he liked it so much! It's full of horrible, horrible drugs! It's a devil drink!"

"Don't talk about my Pepsi that way!" Punk said. "I was only kidding. I'm fine. I'm still Jesus."

"Well, we know one thing," Miz said. "The Pepsi does nothing for your sanity."