WWE Fan Fiction ❯ Nothing Else Matters ❯ Chapter 2
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: TheAyslum 
Non Anime: WWE Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Suspense | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 06.23.2009 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 168 | Status: Work In Progress
Non Anime: WWE Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Suspense | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 06.23.2009 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 168 | Status: Work In Progress
Nothing Else Matters
Author: Pearl
Pen Name: The Asylum
Email: Y2JsPearl@yahoo.com
Feedback: Is much loved and appreciated
Ratings: R
Contents/Warnings: Strong language, violence and blood
Genre: Drama & Suspense
Characters: Randy Orton, John Cena, Michelle McCool, Chris Jericho and Tonya Crawford
Characters mentioned: Triple H, Bob Orton, Vince McMahon, Stephanie McMahon, Batista, Ken Kennedy and Carlito.
Disclaimers: Vince McMahon and the WWE own all characters. I own Tonya.
Distributions: Ask first.
Author’s Note: This takes place after Judgment Day 2008. A Metallica song helped inspire the title for this fiction.
Summary: After weeks of losing match after match, Randy Orton grows frustrated with the wrestling business and decides to hang up his boots. Can someone convince him otherwise?
Chapters/Parts: 2/?
Randy was slightly startled by a light thump at the front door; he lifts his tear-stained eyes from his hands and forces himself to stand. He walks from the kitchen into the living area, hoping Chris wasn’t returning to give him another lecture about quitting. Hesitantly he opens the door and immediately lifts a curious eyebrow as he found the local newspaper resting on the doormat. Randy bends to retrieve the publication before making his way back into the house and shutting the wooden entrance behind him.
The young brunette didn’t get a chance to unfold the newspaper as the telephone rings. He tossed the paper onto the coffee table in front of him before strolling over to answer the annoying machine.
“Chris! I swear if you’re calling to…”
“Whoa, Randy, chill,” interrupted a soft feminine voice.
Randy brought an embarrass hand to his forehead as he realized the tone belonged to Smackdown diva, Michelle McCool. He sighs remorsefully, “I’m so sorry, Michelle. I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I thought you were Jericho calling to…” Randy shakes his head slightly and changes the subject. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter. I had no right to snap at you. Um, w-why are you calling me?”
“It’s fine. I heard what happened after Judgement Day. I just want you to know, if you ever need someone to talk or rant to than I’m here for you, okay? We’ve always been able to talk about stuff, even though you’re over on RAW now.”
Randy managed to smile at Michelle’s words. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” He reached for the newspaper before gently taking its place on the coffee table. He unfolds it and immediately his eyes fell onto an advertisement that read: Wanted: Chef, Call (506) 555-7689 or visit us at Crawford’s Bar & Grill, 480 S. Lyon St.
He twisted his thin lips in thought before randomly asking, “Uh, Michelle?”
“Yes?”
“What would you think of me as a chef?” At first there was a long pause on the other end of the telephone and than Michelle gradually begins to laugh. Randy pouts slightly, “You don’t think I’d make a good chef?”
“No, no, I’m just trying to picture you wearing one of those big white hats and an apron that reads “hail to the chef” on it. Randy, are you sure? You’ve got a bad temper especially when someone ticks you off. I don’t want you getting fired for spitting in someone’s food.”
“Oh c’mon, I wouldn’t do something like that.”
Michelle sighs, “Look, Randy, I’m not going to tell you what to do. If you think you’ve got what it takes to become a cook than go for it. I just want you to be happy, that’s all.”
“Thank you. You’re the first one that has said something positive to me.”
“Of course, you’re my best friend. It tickles my heart with joy to see you smile. I support whatever decision you make and I hope becoming a chef does that for you. I just pray you’ll still stop by and see a Smackdown event every now and than. I’d miss you like crazy if you didn’t.”
Randy chuckles, “I’m not going to forget you.”
“Good, ‘cause I don’t plan on forgetting you, neither, Mr. Orton. Goodbye… for now.” Michelle hangs up afterwards.
Randy stared at the phone for a sustained moment before placing it back on the hook. He focused his attention back on the ad as serious thoughts ran through his mind. Maybe being a cook was what God had placed him on Earth to be. Well it certainly wasn’t a pro-wrestler, he knew that for sure. Randy walks upstairs toward his bedroom with the newspaper in hand. He lays the paper on the bed before grabbing for a faded pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. He walked into the bathroom to quickly wash up before getting dressed. Randy stares at his reflection through the bathroom mirror as he slowly runs a comb through his dark hair, trying to picture what being a chef would be like. Hopefully, it’ll be much better than being inside a ring.
Randy picked up the newspaper and made his way back downstairs. He grabs for his leather jacket and car keys before leaving his house completely. He got into his red Porsche, puts on his seatbelt before starting the engine. Immediate riffs of an Insomnium song begins to play as he shifts the car to drive and pulls out of his driveway. He nearly speeds down the slim narrow road that belonged to his street. He glanced ever so often down at the address of Crawford’s Bar & Grill.
After at least fifteen minutes of driving, Randy arrived at a medium sized building with a bright neon sign of the bar’s name. He parked next to a beat up pickup truck, turned off the engine and got out of his car. He shoves the newspaper into the waistband of his jeans before climbing a few steps and entering into an opaque environment. Immediately Randy raised a closed fist and coughs a few times, he wasn’t used to this much smoke in one place, but he knew deep down that he’d have to teach himself to adapt especially if he was going to work here. Randy scans the horizon until they land on a slim brunette dressed in jeans and a tight blue tank top, washing the bar counter. He hesitates before walking over toward her.
“Excuse me.”
Gradually the nameless woman lifted her eyes from the surface of the bar to find a stunning, muscular male with arms covered in tattoos. She smiles, “Yes, may I help you?”
Randy unfolds the newspaper and placed it in front of her. “I’m here about the chef’s job. Is it still available?”
“Yes, sir, do you have any cooking experience?” The dark-haired woman asked as she took the newspaper and placed it on a back counter. She turned and stared at him as she patiently waits for his answer.
Randy lowered his eyes to the ground and shakes his head. “No… but…” He looks at her and virtually begs, “I can learn, please.”
The strange woman bit her bottom lip before surprisingly nodding, “Okay, I’ll be glad to train you. Well, since you’re going to be working here, it’s only proper for me to introduce myself.” She holds out her hand toward Randy and makes her acquaintance. “I am Tonya Crawford and I’m the owner of this place.”
Randy connects his hand to hers with a smile. “I’m Randy Orton… you’ve got an amazing place here. I can’t wait to start working for you.”
“Great, because you start now.”
Author: Pearl
Pen Name: The Asylum
Email: Y2JsPearl@yahoo.com
Feedback: Is much loved and appreciated
Ratings: R
Contents/Warnings: Strong language, violence and blood
Genre: Drama & Suspense
Characters: Randy Orton, John Cena, Michelle McCool, Chris Jericho and Tonya Crawford
Characters mentioned: Triple H, Bob Orton, Vince McMahon, Stephanie McMahon, Batista, Ken Kennedy and Carlito.
Disclaimers: Vince McMahon and the WWE own all characters. I own Tonya.
Distributions: Ask first.
Author’s Note: This takes place after Judgment Day 2008. A Metallica song helped inspire the title for this fiction.
Summary: After weeks of losing match after match, Randy Orton grows frustrated with the wrestling business and decides to hang up his boots. Can someone convince him otherwise?
Chapters/Parts: 2/?
Randy was slightly startled by a light thump at the front door; he lifts his tear-stained eyes from his hands and forces himself to stand. He walks from the kitchen into the living area, hoping Chris wasn’t returning to give him another lecture about quitting. Hesitantly he opens the door and immediately lifts a curious eyebrow as he found the local newspaper resting on the doormat. Randy bends to retrieve the publication before making his way back into the house and shutting the wooden entrance behind him.
The young brunette didn’t get a chance to unfold the newspaper as the telephone rings. He tossed the paper onto the coffee table in front of him before strolling over to answer the annoying machine.
“Chris! I swear if you’re calling to…”
“Whoa, Randy, chill,” interrupted a soft feminine voice.
Randy brought an embarrass hand to his forehead as he realized the tone belonged to Smackdown diva, Michelle McCool. He sighs remorsefully, “I’m so sorry, Michelle. I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I thought you were Jericho calling to…” Randy shakes his head slightly and changes the subject. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter. I had no right to snap at you. Um, w-why are you calling me?”
“It’s fine. I heard what happened after Judgement Day. I just want you to know, if you ever need someone to talk or rant to than I’m here for you, okay? We’ve always been able to talk about stuff, even though you’re over on RAW now.”
Randy managed to smile at Michelle’s words. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” He reached for the newspaper before gently taking its place on the coffee table. He unfolds it and immediately his eyes fell onto an advertisement that read: Wanted: Chef, Call (506) 555-7689 or visit us at Crawford’s Bar & Grill, 480 S. Lyon St.
He twisted his thin lips in thought before randomly asking, “Uh, Michelle?”
“Yes?”
“What would you think of me as a chef?” At first there was a long pause on the other end of the telephone and than Michelle gradually begins to laugh. Randy pouts slightly, “You don’t think I’d make a good chef?”
“No, no, I’m just trying to picture you wearing one of those big white hats and an apron that reads “hail to the chef” on it. Randy, are you sure? You’ve got a bad temper especially when someone ticks you off. I don’t want you getting fired for spitting in someone’s food.”
“Oh c’mon, I wouldn’t do something like that.”
Michelle sighs, “Look, Randy, I’m not going to tell you what to do. If you think you’ve got what it takes to become a cook than go for it. I just want you to be happy, that’s all.”
“Thank you. You’re the first one that has said something positive to me.”
“Of course, you’re my best friend. It tickles my heart with joy to see you smile. I support whatever decision you make and I hope becoming a chef does that for you. I just pray you’ll still stop by and see a Smackdown event every now and than. I’d miss you like crazy if you didn’t.”
Randy chuckles, “I’m not going to forget you.”
“Good, ‘cause I don’t plan on forgetting you, neither, Mr. Orton. Goodbye… for now.” Michelle hangs up afterwards.
Randy stared at the phone for a sustained moment before placing it back on the hook. He focused his attention back on the ad as serious thoughts ran through his mind. Maybe being a cook was what God had placed him on Earth to be. Well it certainly wasn’t a pro-wrestler, he knew that for sure. Randy walks upstairs toward his bedroom with the newspaper in hand. He lays the paper on the bed before grabbing for a faded pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. He walked into the bathroom to quickly wash up before getting dressed. Randy stares at his reflection through the bathroom mirror as he slowly runs a comb through his dark hair, trying to picture what being a chef would be like. Hopefully, it’ll be much better than being inside a ring.
Randy picked up the newspaper and made his way back downstairs. He grabs for his leather jacket and car keys before leaving his house completely. He got into his red Porsche, puts on his seatbelt before starting the engine. Immediate riffs of an Insomnium song begins to play as he shifts the car to drive and pulls out of his driveway. He nearly speeds down the slim narrow road that belonged to his street. He glanced ever so often down at the address of Crawford’s Bar & Grill.
After at least fifteen minutes of driving, Randy arrived at a medium sized building with a bright neon sign of the bar’s name. He parked next to a beat up pickup truck, turned off the engine and got out of his car. He shoves the newspaper into the waistband of his jeans before climbing a few steps and entering into an opaque environment. Immediately Randy raised a closed fist and coughs a few times, he wasn’t used to this much smoke in one place, but he knew deep down that he’d have to teach himself to adapt especially if he was going to work here. Randy scans the horizon until they land on a slim brunette dressed in jeans and a tight blue tank top, washing the bar counter. He hesitates before walking over toward her.
“Excuse me.”
Gradually the nameless woman lifted her eyes from the surface of the bar to find a stunning, muscular male with arms covered in tattoos. She smiles, “Yes, may I help you?”
Randy unfolds the newspaper and placed it in front of her. “I’m here about the chef’s job. Is it still available?”
“Yes, sir, do you have any cooking experience?” The dark-haired woman asked as she took the newspaper and placed it on a back counter. She turned and stared at him as she patiently waits for his answer.
Randy lowered his eyes to the ground and shakes his head. “No… but…” He looks at her and virtually begs, “I can learn, please.”
The strange woman bit her bottom lip before surprisingly nodding, “Okay, I’ll be glad to train you. Well, since you’re going to be working here, it’s only proper for me to introduce myself.” She holds out her hand toward Randy and makes her acquaintance. “I am Tonya Crawford and I’m the owner of this place.”
Randy connects his hand to hers with a smile. “I’m Randy Orton… you’ve got an amazing place here. I can’t wait to start working for you.”
“Great, because you start now.”