WWE Fan Fiction ❯ Glengarry Glen Barbershop Meeting ❯ Chapter 1

Author's Note: Feedback's appreciated. Just wanted to try this out after skimming through YouTube for some Pacino and some Ice Cube.I don't own anyone. They own themselves. And, don't plagiarize my work. There will be hell if you do…

 

 

It was the middle of the week before Summerslam was to start, and the chairman, Mr. Vince Kennedy McMahon, decided to get a few superstars and divas in a staff meeting that was “beneficial” to their role in the company. Those selected who did not attend were fired on the spot, and had a contract on them like the mafia would. One diva, Beth Phoenix, and five superstars were selected to join the staff meeting, along with Jim Ross, and Michael Cole. “Everyone,” Vince began the meeting, “I've asked some of you here today—

 

All of a sudden, Chris Jericho, clad in a black Hugo Boss suit and tie, stormed into the room with a large bottle screaming, “WHO DRANK MY APPLE JUICE?!”

 

Everyone, including the rolled eyes of J.R. sat in their chairs staring at the floor beneath their feet. Chris wasn't having it. “What are you, deaf and ignorant, huh?” he continued. “WHO DRANK MY FUCKING APPLE JUICE?! Answer me, motherfuckers!”

 

“DAMNIT, JERICHO!” Vince had enough of it. “This is the second time you have come in here with the profanity! This is not The Sopranos!”

 

“Look, Vince, all due respect, but I placed a fucking big red sign—

 

“Chris Jericho, are you asking me to wash your mouth out with soap? Because that's the next thing I'm gonna do the next time you rudely storm into the meeting swearing up a storm!”

 

Chris let out a deep exhale and started over. “Look, I placed a big red sign that said, `Do Not Drink Me'.”

 

“Well, maybe no one drank it, Chris,” said the Miz. “Maybe it evaporated—

 

Chris glared at him. “Maybe I should beat the hell out of you right now!”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, really? Don't get on my bad side, Miz. You haven't been here one minute. I will knock your ass out!”

 

“Okay, already!” John Morrison spoke his two cents. “It's not like you're whining about a bottle of whiskey here, Chris. It's about some crappy apple juice.”

 

“This is my crappy bottle of apple juice,” Chris retorted, “and I don't go and touch no one else's stuff!”

 

“Hey, Chris?” Adam Copeland said.

 

“What?!” The shorthaired blond turned to his fellow Canadian longhaired blond enemy.

 

“Orton drank your apple juice.”

 

Everyone stared at him and rolled their eyes, and Vince's face was growing red. Randy Orton sat across Adam when he made that accusation, rubbing his barely shaven head. “Excuse you, Edge!” he cried out loud before Chris went into his face.

 

“Yeah, did you have to go there with the tattle-tailing, Adam?” cried Beth Phoenix, who wished she was at the spa right now instead of in a staff meeting with four men who can't learn to act their ages and be civilized. “Now, I can never go home. Thanks a lot, Chris Jericho for starting it with your drama!”

 

“Snitches get stitches,” John said through fake coughs.

 

“Why did you drink my apple juice?” Chris asked the Legend Killer coldly.

 

“See, now tell him why, Randy,” said Adam.

 

“Wait a second here, Chris,” Randy pleaded while staring coldly at the Rated R Superstar.

 

“You touched my apple juice?” Chris's left fist was clenched up tight. “Huh? I don't want your STD's on here. And don't say that you're clean.”

 

“Where do you guys get off with it?” Randy cried. “Adam, did you ever see me drink it?”

 

Adam raked his long locks back. “I didn't have to see you drink it. You were the only person in this room that asked about it.”

 

“Yeah, with what proof? Did you see me drink it?”

 

Adam pushed the chair over his side ferociously and stood next to Chris. Now, the two blond Canadians were up in the Legend Killer's face. “Damnit, you always have to do this, Orton!” screamed Adam. “Are you even listening to me?! I didn't have to see you drink it!”

 

“Damn!” cried the Miz. “It's about to go down!”

 

“What did you see, Adam?!” yelled Randy. “Answer me! What did you see?!”

 

“Say that you didn't drink it, Randy!”

 

“Yeah, say that you didn't drink it, and you won't be put in the hospital,” Chris said, scowling.

 

They all get into a big argument, causing the Miz to scream out Jerry Springer's name before getting pulled out of cloud nine by J.R. Finally, Vince decided to interfere in the argument before it broke out into a violent fight between the three former champions. “SSHHUUTT UP!!” he yelled at them in his famous guttural yelling voice. “SHUTT UP ALL OF YOU!!”

 

“Boo!!” cried Miz. “Don't ruin the show for us!”

 

“Sit your dumb ass down!” scolded Beth.

 

“I'm not gonna have that, damnit!” Vince continued yelling at the men. “What the hell is wrong with the three of you? This isn't Maury Povich! This is a staff meeting!”

 

“Vince,” J.R. suggested, “if you weren't so asinine about holding up a staff meeting with a few people that are bound to cause trouble for everyone, maybe you shouldn't have a staff meeting at all. If your father was here holding this meeting, perhaps everyone would've been civilized—

 

“Jim,” Vince snapped at him with a reddened scowl, “why don't you let me handle this while you pig out on your stupid barbecue! Now, do I look like my father?!”

 

“Yeah!” said everyone in the room.

 

“You're a spitting image of him,” said Chris.

 

“Now, listen, Chris,” Vince let out a small suggestion, “it's a small possibility that Randy drank your apple juice. Small possibility. But, no one saw it, and neither did you. All you have to do is ask him—

 

“That's not fair, Vince!” Chris cried. “You're taking his side!”

 

“I'm not taking his side!”

 

“The hell you're not!”

 

“No, I am not—look, just ask him right here. If he says yes, beat the hell out of him. If he says no, then let it go. So, ask him.”

 

Chris relaxed again, let out a deep breath, and asked the Legend Killer, “Orton, did you drink my apple juice?”

 

A small silence erupted in the room for five minutes, which annoyed the Shaman of Sexy to yell out, “Answer him so we could go home!”

 

“SHUDDUP!!” they yelled at him.

 

“Did you, Randy?” Chris pressed the question onto the Legend Killer. “Huh?”

 

“No,” he responded coldly.

 

“There!” said Vince. “It's done, Jericho! Now, leave it as it is so we could get on with this!”

 

Chris let out a huff and stormed back into the backdoor, slamming the door before screaming, “Well, one of you recalcitrant, malevolent, sponging pricks drank my goddamn juice! I'm getting sick and tired of the same crap every time I come here! You assholes better stop touching my stuff! I swear I'll fuck you dead the next time you do!”

 

“Hey, watch your mouth and quit slamming the doors!” Vince yelled back.

 

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED…