WWE Fan Fiction ❯ The Bad Guys Club ❯ Chapter 8

Author's Note: The first few chapters are PG-13ish, but I rated it for Mature Audiences because there's slash and smut. I don't ownanyone or anything, just Teresa and Terence. I'm a huge fan of The Bad Girls Club, so why write a WWE fanfic based on it? Feedback's appreciated. Don't read and/or post nasty comments if you can't handle it. Don't take this without permission as well.

 

 

CLANK!!

 

“I'M TIRED OF THIS SHIT!” Chris Jericho continued to bang the pans of war throughout the entire house screaming at the bottom of his diaphragm, going back and forth in the hallway where the bedrooms stood.

 

CLANK!!

 

“GET UP!!”

 

CLANK!!

 

“GET THE FUCK UP!!”

 

CLANK!!

 

“GET UP!!”

 

CLANK!!

 

“GET UP!!” The Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla stood in front of Hunter and John's room, unaware that Shawn was also sleeping in that room.

 

CLANK!!

 

“I'LL STRIKE BACK!!”

 

CLANK!!

 

“I'LL STRIKE BACK!!”

 

CLANK!!

 

“I'LL STRIKE BACK!! GET THE FUCK UP!! I'M TIRED OF YOU GUYS!! CALL YOUR FUCKING PRIESTS!!”

 

And what better revenge than Chris getting to wake the Party Animals and the Doctor of Thuganomics up while they were drooling in their beds with a rocking marching band, heavy metal style? Randy heard him loud and clear, and he was waiting for him to contract laryngitis, and so he sat in the living room watching the Sexy Beast wreak havoc. The two Street Urchins Adam and Chavo sat in the kitchen laughing at how the Party Animals were getting the special treatment. “I ain't done!” said the Sexy Beast carrying the culinary weapons of mass destruction. “You think I'm done! HELL NO!!”

 

CLANK!! went the pans.

 

“IT'S NOT OVER UNTIL…” Chris went around the living room banging and screaming.

 

CLANK!!

 

“I SAY…”

 

CLANK!!

 

“IT'S OVER!!”

 

CLANK!!

 

“LET ME HEAR YOU SAY!!”

 

CLANK!!

 

“WAHH!! WAHH!!”

 

CLANK!!

 

“WAAAH!! WAHH!!”

 

Still, Randy sat in the living room watching the shorthaired Canuck trying to make a point. The Legend Killer believed that out of all the guys in the house, Chris was indeed the most pretentious of all, and he enjoyed him blowing up at people in the ring and out. “I DIDN'T GET ANY SLEEP `CAUSE OF YOU!!” Chris yelled in singsong and danced in front of Hunter and John's room while banging the pans.

 

CLANK!!

 

“YOU'RE NOT GOING TO SLEEP `CAUSE OF ME!!”

 

CLANK!!

 

“SOUND OFF!!”

 

CLANK!! CLANK!!

 

“ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!!”

 

CLANK!!

 

“GET THE…”

 

CLANK!!

 

“FUCK UP!!”

 

CLANK!!

 

“Okay, I'll get something louder!” Chris stopped banging and went into the kitchen to grab another culinary noisemaker. “I will get something louder! I don't care if has to take me the whole fucking four months to get it!”

 

Having enough of Chris's noise making madness, DX slowly got up to the dressing room to change. Shawn was getting to the point where he didn't care about his roommates anymore. The whole month for him made him feel like he was in a mental hospital with six other guys who were former champions and drama-causing egomaniacs. Just then, John slowly got out of the room ready to take a shower when Chris marched back out from the corridors and in front of the front door with two frying pans. “CALL THE FUCKING COPS!!” he yelled. “CALL FUCKING VINCE!! BECAUSE THIS IS WHAT'S GOING ON ALL GODDAMN DAY!!”

 

Y2J is going to get shanked by John Cena, the Doctor of Thuganomics thought as he shook his head in anger, because he woke me up out of my beauty rest.

 

“Come on!” Chris yelled at him.

 

KABONK!! went the pans in front of John's face.

 

“Wake the fuck up!”

 

KABONK!!

 

“What the hell's your problem, Jericho?” John asked him.

 

“Come on!” was all he replied.

 

KABONK!!

 

I have a nice serrated cheese knife that I keep with me at all times without airport security finding out, of course, John thought. You know, with Canadians, all you gotta do is to jab them hard and shake it out `cause they're already frozen.

 

John needed to have a confrontation with the lead singer from Fozzy after taking a shower, so he stopped him in his tracks and said, “What's your damn problem here?”

 

“You wanna know what my problem is?” he replied. “I didn't get any rest because of you fucking assclowns last night!”

 

“Why you getting mad at me about it? We didn't do shit to you last night!”

 

“You guys were making so much noise outside—

 

“Yeah, but you have no right to run around the house at this time of day making—

 

“Oh, yeah I do! And I'll go on with it!”

 

“What if we went and did the same thing to you?”

 

“Yeah, you would've, Cena. Except that I wasn't the one outside by the pool partying at three, almost four in the fucking morning!” John's hypocrisy made Chris want to strangle him or run him over with one of the cars. “I have a problem with all four of you motherfuckers!”

 

“Well, it ain't got shit to do with me!”

 

“You know what? Fuck you!”

 

“Fuck you, too!”

 

“Fuck you!”

 

“You know what, don't even start this shit, man.” John went into his room to change into his clothes. “'Cause I ain't going to jail for this—

 

“Really?” Chris scoffed. “Don't worry about it, because I'll be more than ecstatic to get locked up for it!”

 

“Grow up, Chris!”

 

At that juncture, Chris's fellow two Urchins stopped by and watched Chris and John curse each other out. “I really don't care anymore, John,” Chris said to John. “Because if anyone dares to try me, it's a fucking wrap!”

 

“Yeah, well, y'all can see me when I get a platinum plat!” the Doctor of Thuganomics yelled at the Urchins walking to their room, Adam skipping behind Chris.

 

“Okay!” Chris responded.

 

“And y'all can kiss my motherfucking ass, then!”

 

What? thought the Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla. That's all you can give me? Wake the fuck up and smell the coffee, John, because you're the top guy on my hit list.

 

After John got dressed, he went into the phone room through the living room to call his dad about the morning from hell. “Man, I'm getting sick of it,” he said to him. “This morning, one of these little boys decided he was going to wake everybody in the house up ramming pots and pans, and shit like that. “

 

“John, you just have to walk away from that,” he replied. “What I'd tell you?”

 

“That's exactly what I did, Pop. Because I asked him, `What the hell's your problem?' If not that, it's these three guys I kick it with, DX and Randy Orton. They're over here spiking the guys' juices, and blowing up their Twinkies in the microwave, and it's draining my soul. Damn, Pop! They're driving me nuts! If I had the chance, I'd take on all of them in the ring.”

 

Then, Shawn stood in front of the phone room almost overhearing the Chain Gang Commander vent to his father and he watched him shed a tear of frustration. “I know what you mean, son,” John Sr. comforted his on the phone, “but you probably need to watch a Maury.”

 

The entire month of living in the house for John had grown into a poisonous environment, and there was no way he could survive in it if he could. He strongly believed that there was going to be more drama to come. Later on in the afternoon, the Doctor of Thuganomics hung out with Randy by the pool. “This morning, what Jericho did was uncalled for,” he said to the Legend Killer. “It was very juvenile, and so does peeing in the sink.”

 

“I thought Chris banging those pans was hilarious!” said Randy. “You know, if we keep waking them up and they respond back, we're even.”

 

John's eyes widened in disappointment. “No, we're not.”

 

Later that night, the Street Urchins came back with Whoppers and large fries from Burger King. Chris was still thirsty after eating his meal, so he went into the fridge to grab his juice. Beside the Twinkies that he loved, Chris wouldn't go on without his juice. It made him happy. It was sweet, and it had so many different flavors, but little did he know that his beloved juice had been tainted with hot sauce, thanks to DX once again. And this time, the Party Animals watched from outside next to the pool for a reaction.

 

PFFFFHHH!!!

 

“What the fuck, Chris?” Adam asked after Chris spat out his tainted juice.

 

“Those fuckers spiked my juice with hot sauce!” he cried, face turned into a bright pink and voice so loud making sure the Party Animals feared for his wrath. “It's in my juice! I'm pressing charges! I'm not kidding! I'm calling the fucking cops if they don't arrive with an ambulance in an hour because my throat is on fire! You sons of bitches should be ashamed of yourselves! You guys have any fucking class?! We could never, ever get along in this house! FUCK YOU!! It's on, now, motherfuckers!!”

 

Outside…

 

“Oops, my bad,” said Hunter sardonically as Shawn grinned like a little kid. He had placed almost half-a-bottle of Tabasco sauce in Chris's juice the night before, and Chris didn't touch it until now.

 

While two of the Street Urchins went around to Adam and Chris's room, Adam opened the door to the outside pool by the kitchen and asked the Party Animals, “Who put the hot sauce in the drink? Tell me the truth.”

 

“Okay, I'll admit it,” the Cerebral Assassin confessed. “I did it.”

 

“Okay.” Adam went back inside.

 

Then Hunter turned to his fellow Party Animals. “I feel so bad, and do you smile when you feel so bad? Jericho is going to blow a fuse when he finds out I did it, and I have no idea what's in store.”

 

Back in Adam and Chris's bedroom, the Urchins were surprised about the culprit. “Triple H was the one who spiked the juice?” Chavo asked.

 

Chris's blue eyes darkened with fury as he spoke with his throat still burning. “He did it?”

 

The Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla sat quietly in the phone room trying to breathe through the pain in his throat. He felt like he was about to asphyxiate to death. This time, the Game had crossed the line and pushed his last button as Chris stormed out of the phone room and marched through the living room to Hunter and John's room where he tossed mostly all of Hunter's belongings into the pool and trashed the rest inside. He saw his fellow Urchins standing in front of the door and he said to them. “My throat's killing me. I can't breathe.”

 

“Shh,” said Adam as he tried to comfort his lover. “We'll take you to the hospital, grab your jacket.”

 

But Chris shoved them out of the way and went into the kitchen. “No, don't worry about me. I feel better. I'm all right.”

 

Just then, Hunter saw his stuff in the pool and he and Randy ran into the bedrooms through the living room to where the Game slept and saw the carnage Chris had left. “This son of a bitch!” he yelled as he slammed his fist on the dresser. “He's picked the last bone, Jericho.”

 

Randy shook his head and smirked. “I hear you, Hunter.”

 

“Yeah, and you know what? Trash my shit around, but you can't come face me like a man? You wanna fight, Chris? We'll fight, all right.” Hunter wanted to kill Chris, and he didn't care how psychotic that man was because he always knew how to beat a crazy person down. “My daughter's picture is on the floor. Oh, this means war.”

 

He wanted to cool off some steam, so he went for a walk outside with John. “If Jericho gets into my face, it's on,” he said.

 

“If I were you,” John suggested, “I'd take him aside and talk—

 

“No, Cena. You have no idea. Someone needs to back me up before I injure this son of bitch.”

 

If anyone wanted the Chain Gang Commander's opinion, he just didn't see the state of affairs between Chris and Hunter having a positive outcome at all. Whoever went home suspended would be the first person who lays a punch. Back in the kitchen, Chris downed another cold bottle of water as he declared, “Triple H thinks I'm fucking around, and I'm not. The son of a bitch should be fortunate, that's all. All I did was trash his fucking room and tossed the rest of his stuff in the pool outside.”

 

Shawn sat by the computer and tried to ignore his outbursts. To him, they all came here to think about their actions and to better themselves, and still, no one is trying or even cares to do so. There was no hope, and it was getting to the Heartbreak Kid to where he grabbed a bottle of Coke from the fridge and downed it. Back outside, Hunter and John continued their heartfelt talk as they hung outside by the trees. But, it wasn't good enough for John as the cursing and fighting made him want to distance himself from everyone. I completely separate myself from negative energy, he thought. This is all y'all fault.

 

They walked back into the driveway, mentally drained. “Hey, if it wasn't for us getting punished in this house together,” said Hunter. “I don't know about you, but I've would've thrown in the towel a long time ago.”

 

Suddenly, they noticed three guys going into the house and straight to the kitchen where the Street Urchins were. They followed them to the kitchen, to where it turned out to be Fozzy members Rich Ward and Sean Dolson, and Australian actor Jesse Spencer. Chris was so excited to see the three of them stop by in Chicago to visit him. “So, how's it going here?” Rich asked him.

 

“Dude, I had to rest for a bit, because shit is not cool in this motherfucker!” Chris said, his voice amplifying to where Hunter and John can hear him. “Let me tell you. I almost died tonight because I couldn't breathe. Someone went and spiked my carton of fruit juice with a half bottle of Tabasco.”

 

“Oh, that's cold,” said Jesse.

 

“I know, right? Who does that, really?” He wrapped his arms around his three buddies. “I need this love right now, man! Before I almost suffocated to death tonight, my Twinkies got blown up in the microwave the other night. Who does that? I'm living with little kids in this fucking house, you have no idea.”

 

“Just keep your head up, Chris,” said Sean as he patted the Fozzy lead singer on the back.

 

“Oh, I am. I just trashed that motherfucker's—

 

“HEY!!” Hunter finally had it with his mind being teased. “Don't fuck around with me, Jericho! You started this war.”

 

“Hey, my throat was burning me, and I couldn't breathe because you went and spiked my drink,” Chris responded back, “and I don't deal with that.”

 

“Well, my room got trashed and my stuff's soaking in the pool, and I don't deal with that.”

 

“You should be lucky that I decided to toss your shit into the pool instead of using lighter fluid to torch your fucking room—

 

“No, you should be lucky that you didn't go and destroy—

 

“No, you are lucky. Because if it was different circumstances, Triple H, you'd be in a hospital right now!”

 

“Oh, is that so?” Now, Hunter was afraid of himself at this point as the confrontation between him and the shorthaired blond Canadian became intense. His heart was racing, and he couldn't think straight. Either he was going to hurt him or not. “Don't act up because your buddies are here `cause you can still get it, Jericho! Don't act up because your buddies are here!”

 

The Street Urchins, Randy, and Chris's friends left for the car. Finally, I need to leave this house, Chris thought. I'm going to end up locked up in jail because Hunter is going to end up in the ICU.

 

In Shawn's room, the Heartbreak Kid and John decided to have a talk. John was worried about hiss well being now since Shawn had downed almost three 20oz bottles of Coke. “Look, I don't know if I can deal with this drama all the time,” said Shawn. “It's frustrating. I'm not even mad at anyone, I ain't go no animosity towards one another. It's driving me bananas, man!”

 

Although he and Hunter are best buddies, Shawn could care less if Hunter and Chris beat the living daylights out of each other. In fact, those two would probably kill each other, and it was getting to the point to where Shawn would go back to his caffeine addiction and go nuts. And when Shawn goes overboard with the Coke, it ends badly. His eyes crossed together sometimes, he had a blank look, and it was scaring John out of the bedroom. The Heartbreak Kid, Shawn Michaels have left the building. It has now become 100% barmy. At a bar somewhere in Wrigleyville, the Street Urchins, Chris's friends, and Randy partied the night away, well, the Urchins and Chris's friends, actually. Randy actually tagged along because he was meeting Teresa there on a date. “I just want to know,” Teresa asked the Legend Killer, “how this juice became, like this most overly fundamental thing in the world? It's juice.”

 

“Don't even ask me that, man,” he responded as he smoked his cigarette.

 

“If you want my opinion, the house is going be in fucking turmoil when we get back. I know it, I just do.”

 

“Whatever, I don't care. You and I are just gonna go off somewhere. Let them start. It's what they do.”

 

At the bar counter, Chris decided to order another round of drinks for his friends and fellow Urchins. “Yeah, to the Real Bad Guys!!” he yelled as they clinked their bottles. “That's right, damnit!!”

 

“Damn straight!” exclaimed Rich.

 

“You know what? Fuck Hunter! That son of a bitch ain't nothing but a power trip with a huge nose!”

 

Adam wasn't much of a drinker like Chris and Chavo were, well Chris actually, but every time he would go out drinking with them, either he or Chris (known by as Drunkacho, Tipsy Chrissy, which was off of Tipsi Ripsi, and/or Crazy Chris when he is wasted) would go and do something stupid (For example, the contamination of the Party Animals' food from the two nights before which lead into a war for household supremacy between the two factions). The Urchins and Chris's friends were all drunk, so Chris decided to pull down some random guy's pants down to his boxers and he and Sean took turns flogging him with a belt. Adam, Chavo, Rich, and Jesse laughed hysterically at the random fraternity flogging. All of their idiotic, drunken behaviors were highly rowdy that it made the rest of the Cubs fans in the bar become aware of their own well being after attending a game. Just then, Chris and Sean shoved the guy out of their space, and the shorthaired Canadian started to make out with Jesse until Adam pulled him off and began having his way with the Aussie. “You guys are nuts,” said Chavo as he and the two members of Fozzy laughed hysterically.

 

Adam, Chris, and Jesse continued making out until security decided to kick the Canadians for their lewd, rowdy behavior. “See what you did, Jericho?!” Chavo and Adam yelled at the Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla.

 

“He does that all the time,” said Rich, Jesse, and Sean.

 

“Let's go to the limo,” Adam said as he and the Mexican Warrior grabbed his fellow Canadian from inviting Jesse back to their house in his drunken state.

 

Back at the house, a caffeinated Shawn Michaels was still angry and pissed, and he didn't know why. He was just pissed off. He was mad crazy and in tears. “Hunter, I am this close to lord…” he said maniacally.

 

“Shawn, I love you,” said Hunter. “Be pissed, man.”

 

“I know you do, and I ain't got nothing against y'all.” The Heartbreak Kid's voice quivered. “But you guys going against each other's driving me crazy!”

 

John noticed Shawn's caffeine to a point where he himself had no control. People like him just explode, and Shawn did just that when he stormed out of Hunter's bedroom and into the main entrance where he super kicked the vase on the table screaming his lungs out. Then he tossed the chair across the hallway shattering into pieces, spooking John. “Shawn, quit it!” the Doctor of Thuganomics warned him.

 

“No, I'm pissed off!!” he responded as he continued to trash the house. “THIS IS A SINNER HOUSE!! Why?!”

 

Hunter was in awe of his friend. He just saw stuff fly and was excited about it. “I'm ready for more, Shawn!” he exclaimed, deciding to egg him on. “Show me more!”

 

They went into the kitchen where the Texan wreaked havoc by throwing the pots around, and smashing a bottle of worsteshire sauce into the floor, dark contents resembling blood as Adam came in and saw the mess. “What the fuck is this?!” he cried angrily at the caffeinated Heartbreak Kid.

 

“I'm standing up for myself,” he responded, moving around. “You guys are all sinners!”

 

“For what?! What did we do?! What the fuck did we do?!”

 

Suddenly, Chavo came in and the two Urchins started to curse him out screaming and yelling. Chris came in the nick of time and saw the carnage Shawn had made in the kitchen. Although he was still drunk, Chris wanted to literally kill him, and Hunter noticed all three Urchins wanting to fight Shawn. “Shawn!” cried the Game as he closed the oven door. “No, god! Shawn, no, man! Shawn, not cool!”

 

Shawn was hyper and so he tried to attack the Street Urchins. Hunter “tried” to stop it as well, but Chris, restrained by John and Adam, cursed him out and tried to attack him. Shawn almost got a hold of Chavo's shirt, but Adam shoved him out of the way, pinning him to the counter. While all of the insanity boiled in the house, Randy and Teresa did some serious making out in the guest room that was in the gazebo outside, ignoring all elements.

 

Back inside, Chris threw some glasses at Shawn, but missed and hit the floor. Hunter realized that it was getting nowhere. The Street Urchins were drunk, especially Y2J. HBK was caffeinated and crazy, so Hunter bellowed, “All right! Everyone stop! Everyone stop!”

 

Chris responded by throwing another glass at Hunter and Shawn, but the glass missed them and it shattered into the floor. Then he and the Urchins left to their bedrooms. “This is done!” Hunter continued. “It's a wrap!! Asshole! Hey, I'll fucking kill that son of bitch!”

 

And where was John in the battle? He could sign up for the military if he wanted to, but not now. Not with his roommates. “You're asking for more drama right now, Triple H!” he confronted the Game.

 

“No, because that crazy son of bitch came at me,” he replied. “You think I'm gonna take it hands down? No! That crazy ass snowback son of a bitch—

 

“Yo, you ain't got to say racist shit!” Hunter and John were friends, but John was going to kick his ass for calling Chris (and maybe Adam) a snowback. “You're tripping!”

 

No, you're tripping, Cena! thought the Game. All of a sudden, you're the good guy?

 

“You know what? I'm out! This got nothing to do with me! Y'all can go ahead and beat the holy hell out of each other.”

 

John watched Shawn and Hunter go out the door. Even though Hunter egged Shawn into trashing the house in his caffeinated state, they were forced to go stay at a hotel for the night while the Street Urchins cooled off in their bedrooms. “The devil called!” Chris roared into the living room. “He wants you guys to come back home…FUCKERS!!”

 

The next morning, Randy and Teresa woke up and kissed. Last night, they decided they weren't going to have sex with each other, so they made out, and Teresa suddenly spent the night over in her Cubs fan attire. As the biracial blonde left, the Legend Killer headed into the house and saw the carnage Shawn has left last night. He saw the kitchen in the same condition as the entryway. He went into the closet and saw Chris holding his head looking for something to wear. “Dude, what happened last night?” he asked the shorthaired Canadian.

 

"Shawn, for some, reason, got into the Cokes and flipped out,” he responded, “so Hunter decided that he was going to egg him on in trashing the house. That's all I remember. Everything else is a blur because my head's hurting me."

 

"Why, because you guys got more drunk after me and Teresa left last night?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"So everything that happened last night was just the house thing?"

 

"Yeah. Was I yelling or threatening to hurt someone last night?”

 

"I really don't know, Chris. I was outside with Teresa the whole time. Which I'm glad I decided on doing."

 

"Yeah, I'm glad you didn't get involved even though I don't remember the rest of last night."

 

In the dressing room, Adam and Chavo cleaned up their faces. Although DX had glued Adam's bottle of hair crème shut, the Rated R Superstar got it open without any effort. He knew they did it and rolled his eyes at the inanity in trying to piss him off. "I'm sorry that they have so many issues in their lives,” he said to Chavo, “but if they're going to down Pepsis or energy drinks to mask it—I'm supposed to have pity for him because he was hyper?"

 

"Even though all three of us got drunk last night,” he replied, “instead of cursing him out, we could've asked him, 'What's wrong?'"

 

"Why should we?"

 

John, upset from the ordeal last night, went into the phone room to call his friend Terence in Massachusetts. "Hey, man. I so wish I was over there with you right now,” he said to him.

 

"Why? What happened?" he replied.

 

"Let me tell you, Terence. I'm living with little fucking children in this house. I thought I was going to deal with it and just hold my head high, but that's not happening with me. I need my state of mind back."

 

"Yeah, you do."

 

John's state of mind was an all-time low, and he was spiritually weakened by everyone's negative energy in the house. Outside in the gazebo, where the guest bed was, the Street Urchins (changed in new clothes) thought over their actions last night. Chris, being that he was more wasted than his two fellow Urchins, was having a headache with it. "I am having the worst hangover,” he declared, “and I don't remember anything from last night other than me seeing the carnage that Michaels left. So, let's just not drink for now. Every time we get drunk, we act just like DX and Orton. If I was Shawn, I'd stop being the guy that he becomes when he drinks can after can of Coke. No one wants to be around a hyper guy 24/7, and I bet he wouldn't deal with himself. This is the part where we need to change. We need to grow up."

 

"Yeah, I agree,” said Adam. “I need to pee really badly."

 

"And this time we really gotta use the toilet."

 

Later in the afternoon, all six roommates went into the living room for a meeting. John followed them and sat next to Hunter. “I called this meeting,” he said to them, “to tell you that I'm really trying to turn around for the better. This insanity to me is just—we're constantly attacking each other every single day, and we're not even in the ring. I definitely have to separate myself before I become destructive. So I will be leaving to finish my intended suspension as soon as possible. So, if anyone has something to say to me, say it to me it now because this is the last time y'all gonna talk to me until we meet in the ring.”

 

Randy, Shawn, Chris, and Chavo couldn't believe it, especially Randy. He was upset that John had to leave. He was his favorite person in the house despite their differences in the ring. "I don't blame you for leaving, Cena," Hunter said then pointed at the Urchins, “because these guys were drunk and immature. No, all of everything they did was immature!"

 

"Fuck you, Hunter!” retorted Chris. “Fuck you!"

 

"No, man.” The Doctor of Thuganomics disagreed with the Cerebral Assassin's comments. “Everything was immature. Everyone has done something immature in this house. Triple H, you were immature by putting the hot sauce in the juice and blowing up the Twinkies. Jericho was immature by yelling in the house banging pans and trashing your room, and tossing your stuff in the pool. Shawn was immature by drinking too much Coca-Cola and trashing the house last night. Don't nobody got to point the finger at anyone."

 

“You know, John, I'm not going to get pissed and be like, `Don't go',” said Randy, “even though I feel like throwing a tantrum by throwing this table across the room.”

 

“I wish you wouldn't do that,” Chavo warned him. “That's the only thing in the house that's not broken.”

 

Everyone laughed. “Y'all got so much light,” John said to all of them. “Carry that light, shine that light through. Meeting adjourned.”

 

John and the Party Animals left, leaving the Street Urchins sitting as John's powerful words finally woke Chris up that he followed the Doctor of Thuganomics into the kitchen. “Something you said really broke through,” he said to him, “and I thank you, John. I just don't know how to control myself when I get upset, whether I'm drunk or not. This has been my problem. You have something that made me see it through, really.”

 

“I've said some things about you,” he said as they hugged.

 

“It's all right, man. It's all right. I've said some things as well.”

 

John packed up his belonging, including his rubber chicken and his bible. Last night was a confirmation for him that he didn't belong in the house if he were to own up his punishment. Instead of becoming destructive, the Chain Gang Commander decided to leave in peace and do his suspension at back home in Massachusetts. He hugged the Party Animals goodbye, and wished them well in the house. Cena looks like a gang banger with no talent, thought Adam as he watched him head off on the street. If you can't take it, Cena, get the fuck out and go bitch somewhere else because you're too good for this drama. You were a dumb fuck who got caught while you were stealing cheese because you were hungry.

 

And there, there were six Bad Guys left…

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED...