WWE Fan Fiction ❯ Da-Doo ❯ Da-Doo ( One-Shot )

 

 

Author's Note: I don't own anyone or anything. I'm using the song “Da-Doo” from the movie, Little Shop of Horrors. It's a sort of re-enactment from the scene where Seymour talks about the strange and interesting plant called Audrey II, and it's somewhat random. Feedback's always appreciated. Do not take this without permission. Here's the link to the clip if anyone's curious: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1bwzw9wVB10&feature=r elated:-)

 

 

 

It was the month of October, and it was a Tri-Brand Supershow. CM Punk was not interested in performing at all, despite the fact that RAW GM Mike Adamle had to persuade him to come to work. Really? He's getting paid to tag with Randy Orton, his semi-time nemesis? Is Adamle always on something? The Chicagoan was at the canteen, and he found the Legend Killer about to snack on a croissant. “All right, Orton,” he confronted him, “give me back the $1000 I gave you!”

The Legend Killer was shocked by it. He expected Punk to explain the whole match, but not to come at him for money that he borrowed a long time ago. It was an emergency, or so Punk believed. “See,” Randy explained, “What had happen was that...Something came up, and I ain't got it.”

 

“So, what had happen was something came up, and you don't have it on you? Like what?”

Randy wiped his nose, an indication that he was about to stall and get his ass out of it. “Just something, man! Something, all right?!”

“Hell, no! You did some stupid shit with it, did you, Orton?!” Suddenly, the Straightedge superstar grabbed Randy's croissant and waved it, pissing the Legend Killer off for that his only brunch item he had. “How much did you pay for this croissant? I bet you used my money that I gave you to stuff your fucking face! You know what grinds my gears? Is when people like you use me!”

Then, as Punk threw Randy's croissant away, Shawn caught it out of nowhere and screamed, “THANK YOU, LORD!! HALLELUJAH!!”

The Heartbreak Kid then skipped by Punk and Randy cursing each other out, then said to them, "What's with the language? Come on! You guys have a tag match tonight, and I think you guys should really focus on that.”

Randy caught him taking a bite of his croissant and screamed, “Hey, that's mine, Shawn!”

He ignored him as he stole some butter and spread it all over the pastry. He smacked his lips as Punk said, “No, that's mine, being that you used my money to buy that.”

Shawn stopped eating for a bit, then asked them, “Oh, did you wanted some?”

 

“No, you go ahead.”

 

“Damnit, Punk!” screamed Randy. “That's straightedge of you, isn't it?”

 

“Hey, you still haven't explained about the money I loaned you, which you promised to pay me back, then lied about it. Shawn and I are gonna sit here and you're gonna tell me everything.”

 

“Tell us what?” Shawn wanted to know. “I don't have the time, and do you know where I could get some milk with this croissant?”

 

“Shawn, just wait for a bit. You want to hear the juicy details, do you?”

 

The Heartbreak Kid grinned then turned to Randy and yelled, “This better be good, because if I don't get my milk in the next few minutes, someone will be in big trouble!”

 

“Okay!” Randy whined.

 

As the Legend Killer prepares to tell his story of the missing grand, a quartet of troublemaking instigators passed by them. One of them was interested in his facial expressions. “What are you looking at?” Adam Copeland asked the leader of the quartet and current World Heavyweight Champion, Chris Jericho.

 

“Randy's getting chewed out by Punk and Michaels,” he replied, smiling.

 

“I wonder what Randy did,” Chris's protégé Lance Cade wanted to know.

 

“Randy is always in trouble.”

 

“You got a point, Chris,” Chavo Guerrero agreed.

 

“He's got a problem,” said Adam.

 

“What are we going to do with him?” said Lance.

 

“Glad you asked that,” Chris said as he motioned the other three into sitting at a table across from where Punk, Shawn, and Randy were sitting. “Let's cheer Mr. Legend Killer up, Adam and Chavo.”

 

“Lance,” Adam explained to the protégé, “watch and take some notes.”

 

They waited for Randy to recite his first sentence of his thousand-dollar debt, smiling at how embarrassed Randy was as Punk and Shawn glared at him with scolding eyes. “You remember that show in Milwaukee a few weeks back where we had that total eclipse of the sun?”

 

“Da-doo!” Chris, Adam, and Chavo suddenly broke out in song at the table across from theirs.

 

“I was walking down their Red-Light District one day,” Randy continued.

 

“Hoes-da-doo!” The three wannabe Street Urchins sang and Lance drummed the tables and snapped his fingers.

 

“And I came across this brothel where this old Italian guy owned.”

 

“Pimp-da-doo!”

 

“A brothel, Orton?” Punk asked the Legend Killer. “What the fuck were you doing there?”

 

“STD's!” Lance coughed out the word and Shawn looked around the building to find the source, but all the wannabe Urchins and Lance could do in response was laugh, hum, and drum the table.

 

“Hey, the guy had a special on his top buys,” said Randy. “Including exotic massages and vibrators!”

 

“Freak-da-doo!” the Urchins sang.

 

“Maybe he probably knew fetishes were my hobby.”

 

“Da-da-da-da-da-da-doo!”

 

“But, he didn't have anyone on the job that day.”

 

“Nope-da-doo!”

 

“So, I decided to, you know, walk on by.”

 

“Good for you!” Lance sang, and he joined his three buddies on humming and singing, while drumming the tables in rhythm.

 

“When suddenly, there was this—

 

“TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE SUN!”

 

The other three looked around the canteen, but they didn't catch the three wannabe Urchins and Lance making fun. Randy rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Anyway,” he continued, “it got very dark, and there was this strange humming sound, like from a vacuum cleaner.”

 

“Da-doo!” the three Urchins continued from their table across theirs.

 

“And when the lights came back on, there was this gypsy woman with exotic hair and eyes standing there, and I wanted some of that.”

 

“Whoops-see-doo!”

 

“She was just standing there, among the other women on the street.”

 

“Stupid fuck!” Chris yelled across the table and he and the other three laughed.

 

“You're annoying us with this story, Orton,” Punk warned the Legend Killer as Shawn growled.

 

“No, I'm annoyed by the random singing in the background,” said Shawn.

 

“Yeah, who is doing all the singing?”

 

The quartet from across the table started cackling loudly as Randy rolled his eyes and sighed. Shawn was hungry again, Punk wanted his grand back, and his story not only did not attracted them, but attracted some loud, taunting singing in the back. “Anyway!” he yelled at them, his annoyance growing more. “I could've sworn that she wasn't there before, and she grabbed my ass. So, the old Italian man sold her to me, for $1.95 an hour. And when I tried to pay him, my wallet was gone, and I knew as soon as she grabbed my ass, the bitch stole my wallet with the $1000 in it!”

 

“Sha-la-la-la-la-loo-loo-doo-ooh!!”

 

The quartet laughed loudly and congratulated each other, when suddenly, Punk, Randy, and Shawn caught them across the table. The whole time they were annoying them with their singing and making crude jokes towards Randy because they wanted to. They wanted to make Randy “happy” by annoying him and his two confronters. The quartet got their reward, by getting chased down around the arena and into Mike Adamle's office. “What's the matter here?” the RAW GM asked them.

 

They all responded in constant bickering and Shawn was whining the whole time. “Okay,” Mike had a proposition. “Here's how we can solve things: Randy, forget the tag match. You'll go one-on-one against CM, and if you lose, you'll have to pay your $1000 debt to him. If you don't pay your debt, I'll have to notify the authorities.”

 

The quartet made of Chris, Adam, Chavo, and Lance laughed and taunted Randy. “Shut up!” the Legend Killer yelled at them.

 

“Yeah, quit instigating!” Punk added.

 

The quartet stuck their tongues out and gave them the finger, then Mike turned to them and said, “Chris, since you started the whole thing to begin with, you'll be defending your World Heavyweight Championship against your three buddies.”

 

“What?!” Chris screamed.

 

“In what?” Lance asked, and the shorthaired blond Canadian smacked him across the face.

 

“In an Adamle Original!” Mike announced. “You'll be wrestling in a pool of…milk!”

 

Shawn's eyes sparkled with glee as he jumped up and down, screaming, “THANK YOU, LORD!! HALLELUJAH!! PRAISE GOD!!”

 

“Shawn, you'll be the special guest referee. By the way, the canteen lady left a bag of croissants on the table that she forgot to bring to the area. Why don't you use them for the match?”

 

“Can I eat some of them, too?”

 

“Sure.” Mike left to the ring area. “Good luck tonight, gentlemen.”

 

Shawn danced all over the office, as the six men stared at him. Just stared at him. “What?” he asked them.

 

“I hope you're happy!” they all responded as they stormed out of the office.

 

“And you and Adam aren't getting any sex later tonight,” Chris told Lance.

 

“What'd I do?!” Adam whined.

 

 

THE END.