WWE Fan Fiction ❯ The Bad Guys Club ❯ Chapter 10

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

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 own anyone or anything. My friend Pearl owns herself. 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.


A few weeks later, the Street Urchins made breakfast in the kitchen. Although they were the ones that did the groceries in the house, even buying their favorite foods, the Party Animals were the ones that pigged out. If the Urchins marked it theirs, either Shawn or Hunter would spike it with hot sauce, or god knows what, and if the Party Animals made cupcakes, the Street Urchins would do something sordid with it. So, Chris made a poster and placed it on the wall that said, FOOD THAT IS NOT MARKED, IS FOR EVERYONE TO USE IN MODERATION!! THANK YOU. The Sexy Beast then poured some juice onto a glass and spat it out after the first sip. “What's wrong, now?” Chavo asked him.
 
“You know,” he replied, “spike my juice with Tabasco, but chug the whole new carton and fill it back up with water? This is very disrespectful, and I can't take it anymore. I'm beginning to lose my composure. You know something? Triple H's buying back my juice, whether he likes it or not.”
 
“Hey, Chris?” said Adam. “The other day, I saw DX going into our room eating up all your Twinkies. I thought I might let you know before you go back in and find an empty Twinkie box under your bed.”
 
The Twinkies was the last straw for Chris as he pounded his fist on the table. He had had it with the Party Animals, especially DX, and if Hunter didn't buy his juice and his Twinkies back by the end of the week, the war will start back up with Y2J. It was very insolent for Chris, and he couldn't let it go, and he wouldn't stop until he got his juice and Twinkies back. They got done with breakfast, and went into their bedrooms to change into their clothes, and so did the Party Animals as they all headed to a fancy restaurant in Chinatown to meet with a couple of people who threw parties all over the city. They asked the six Bad Guys to help them throw these parties as part of their mandatory job. If any of the Bad Guys got fired or quit this mandatory job, they would be sent home suspended. They all sat together at the table and were amazed at the familiar presence that sat with them. “Ken Kennedy?!” they all exclaimed.
 
“Who'd you think it was?” he responded, smiling away. “The Pope?”
 
“No,” said Adam. “We thought we get some fat, drunken baseball fan. The city of Chicago's full of them.”
 
“Shut up, Adam,” said Randy.
 
“Okay.” Ken cleared his throat. “Outside of the ring, I throw parties around the Midwest. Being that I'm from the Midwest, Mr. McMahon decided to call me, and asked—
 
Just then, Shawn raised his hand and asked, “You're from the Midwest? I thought you were from Wisconsin.”
 
While Chris wished he were dead, Randy and Adam tried so hard to hold their giggles. “Never mind,” Hunter said to Ken, “Go on, please.”
 
“Oh,” Ken introduced a buxom young woman sitting next to him with long curly black hair and metal chick clothing. “Gentlemen, this is my business partner, Pearl.”
 
“Hi, y'all,” she spoke in a lovely Southern tone which made Chris smiled a bit. “Ken and I have been working together throwing parties for over five years, mostly like Ken said, in the Midwest, and also a few states. Although we have thrown numerous parties in certain midwestern cities, this is the first time we have thrown a party here in Chicago. Now, how are we going to do it is the question. You gotta have deejays; you gotta have music, of course. Then we also have to cover drinks.”
 
As Pearl continued to explained details, Chris jotted down notes and Hunter paid more attention to picking the dirt off his nails. Everyone else seemed to get more interested in the job they were about to do, especially Shawn, who loved parties and loved to throw parties being he was a huge party animal. “Also,” Ken continued, “now with the thing with you guys living in the house as a suspension thing, whatever it is. Anyway, I'm thinking that we need a point person on every party just to make sure things are running smoothly, so Chavo, maybe if you can be our go-to person, that'd be great.”
 
“Sure, no problem,” said Chavo.
 
Shawn nudged Hunter and Randy. “We could do bartending.”
 
“Shawn, you can't be near the Cokes,” Hunter scoffed. “You're a caffeine addict.”
 
“Man, I'm not gonna drink any Cokes!”
 
“Still, Shawn.”
 
“Okay, then, but have I shown any irresponsibility lately?”
 
Suddenly, DX started to argue, which annoyed Chris since it was all about the business, not a place to air out dirty laundry. Shawn wasn't drinking any caffeine-laced drinks lately, and who did they thought they were to tell him what to do when they were the ones who couldn't control their drinking? “Hey!” Chris screamed at DX. “Could we not embarrass our two bosses? Please, leave it out. Sorry, Pearl and Ken.”
 
“It's cool,” said Ken. “We have strong confidence that when it comes to business, we can get done.”
 
Ken and Pearl got up from the table, shook the Bad Guys' hands, and left, leaving the Bad Guys to ponder if the party they were throwing would happen a week from then or less than a week, so would they have to be forced to coexist? Of course, and it wasn't because of the party or the budget. Meanwhile, after they had their lunch, Chris said to the Party Animals, “I wasn't going to bring it up, but today I found out someone decided to go into my room and eat up my last box of Twinkies, and then this morning, that someone decided to drink my juice and fill the carton back up with water.”
 
Randy turned to Hunter, eating away at his chicken fried rice, who gave an expressionless face. “If it's okay with you guys,” the Sexy Beast continued. “I'll make a proposition at the house meeting tonight, and hopefully this'll solve the whole food issue. The only thing I ask you not to do is mess with my stuff, my food, and my money.”
 
“Oh, yeah,” Adam agreed.
 
Chris has been very courteous, even going as far as walking away from fights for the last couple of days. Maybe I am growing up a bit, he thought to himself. It's a bit frightening, to say the least, but yeah, I am.
 
While the Street Urchins left to do something else, the Party Animals went to their car and traveled to the Northwest side of the city. “Where are we going?” Shawn asked them.
 
“We're going to get drunk!” Hunter replied.
 
“Let's find a bar around this neighborhood,” Randy suggested.
 
So they did, and inside a Japanese restaurant. Hunter thought he owed it to himself to get drunk, and so did Randy. They wanted to get drunk just to help Shawn by forcing him to become the designated driver (even though his drink of choice was a can of Coca-Cola). Were they exploiting him? Yes. Was it for his own good? Of course. “I'm getting trashed!” exclaimed the Legend Killer, emitting a mocking guffaw from his lips.
 
“Dude, after this,” Hunter said, “we're going to be so drunk! I have two words for the house meeting: SUCK IT! Who cares about the house meeting?”
 
BBBEEELCCCCHHHHH!!
 
PPPPOOOOTTTT!!
 
“Orton!” yelled the Heartbreak Kid. “We're at a restaurant! People are eating!”
 
“I belched, man!” said Randy after drinking a whole pitcher of beer. “Hunter's the one who can't control his fucking farts!”
 
“My bad!” said Hunter.
 
When the Street Urchins came back to the house, they noticed the Party Animals missing. They specifically told them there was going to be a house meeting tonight, and still, they were not home. “They're still not here?” Chavo asked in annoyance. “Are you kidding me?”
 
“Someone call them,” Chris recommended.
 
Adam and Chavo went into the phone room, and Adam called one of the Party Animals' cell phones. “Yeah?” came a slurry response.
 
“Where are you guys?” asked the Rated R Superstar.
 
“We're still hanging out downtown.”
 
“Uh, do you realize that we have a house meeting at seven?”
 
“We do?” Hunter turned to Randy and Shawn, Randy smiling at the white lies spoken on the phone.
 
Adam rolled his eyes. “We did. We've been having house meetings at seven.”
 
“Oh,” Hunter spoke in his idiotic tone, sounding almost like a thirteen-year-old. “We didn't even know, man. This is Hunter. Yeah, see what happened was…I forgot.”
 
“You forgot?”
 
“Yeah, I forgot.”
 
“Well, what about the other two? Did they forget as well?”
 
Hunter then turned to Randy and a still annoyed Shawn. “Hey, why didn't you guys remind me about the house meeting? Yeah, they forgot, too, Edge.”
 
Adam hung up the phone and grabbed the bag of Tostitos from the pantry. He opened the bag upside down and began to pig out as Chavo scoffed and spoke, “Downtown getting drunk, that's they're doing! I'm so pissed off! We are never going to get along in this house at all. `Cause once we start being nice and courteous, and shit, Triple H, Michaels, and Orton start acting up! It's on!”
 
All of a sudden, Chris came storming into the kitchen wearing a mop head over his head, a paper cone over his nose, spitting out water. “Hey,” he imitated Hunter, making his two fellow Urchins cackle. “See what happened was, I got drunk. That's why we were late. So, we're drunk, yeah?! Yeah, it's nifty!”
 
“Really, Triple H?” said Adam, his mouth full of Tostitos.
 
Chris took off his disguise. “Why does he behave like that?!”
 
Back at the Japanese restaurant, Hunter and Randy continue to annoy Shawn with their constant drinking, singing songs in their drunken voices. It was embarrassing for the Heartbreak Kid to witness the Game and the Legend Killer being un-classy guys. They should be more responsible towards meetings instead of showing up late drunk. “Hey, Randy,” said Hunter. “Want to sit in the backseat?”
 
“Let's sit in the backseat,” said Randy.
 
“If y'all are sitting in the backseat together,” Shawn warned them, “I'm not driving.”
 
“We're both sitting in the backseat!” they exclaimed.
 
“Okay, then I'm not driving y'all.”
 
“Yeah, you are, Shawn,” said Hunter.
 
The Texan scoffed. “No! Hunter, that's not fair. I am not going to be your designated driver every time the both of y'all get drunk.”
 
“Hey, you are taxi whether you like it or not.”
 
“No, I'm not.”
 
“I would do it for you.”
 
They were being disrespectful to the Heartbreak Kid by getting wasted, and he didn't want anything to do with them. He was the oldest out of everyone in the house, and the most religious. It made him realize how annoying Hunter and Randy were, indulgent to where other people came from when he was hyper on caffeine. They left the restaurant, as Hunter and Randy ran across the street and down the sidewalk doing the Ric Flair strut. “Hey!” Shawn yelled behind them. “I'm leaving y'all! Y'all can get a taxi home! I don't care!”
 
“Hey, Randy,” Hunter whispered to the Legend Killer, noticing Shawn walking away from them across the street. “Let's test Mr. Main Event.
 
“Yeah, let's see if he does pass it,” he responded with a smirk.
 
“If he leaves us taking the bus, he's not in our group anymore.”
 
“And who gives a fuck?! I'm so sick of his preaching mouth, anyway!”
 
Shawn continued walking down the street to find where his car was being parked, while Hunter and Randy lagged ahead across the street taunting and teasing him. “Like I said,” Hunter said to Randy, “he leaves us, we'll never hang out with him. Ever.”
 
The Cerebral Assassin and the Legend Killer stopped by at a gift shop where they sold award statuettes similar to an Oscar. “Hey,” Hunter said to Randy again, “Let's buy an award and present it to Jericho.”
 
“Dude,” he responded. “Is there one where it says, `Loudmouth of the Year'?”
 
“There's `Outspoken Person of the Year'.” Hunter finally came across one. “Hey, `Feminist of the Year'! Randy!”
 
“You're kidding me!”
 
Just then Shawn stopped by into the store and noticed Hunter and Randy up to no good. “What are you guys doing?” he asked them.
 
“We're going to present an award to Chris Jericho,” Randy replied, smiling his shit-eating grin away.
 
“Yeah, to Y2J for being the ugliest butch dyke ever!” Hunter laughed. “All feminists are loudmouth dykes, anyway!”
 
“Don't give that to him, that's uncalled for,” Shawn warned them.
 
Back at the house, Chris played a game Chavo couldn't finish on the computer. “They don't want to show up to the meetings,” he said to his fellow Urchins. “Because they know that we're the ones that plan it.”
 
“Yeah!” Chavo exclaimed. “Didn't you tell them earlier that you were going to express—
 
“Yeah, man! These guys are nothing but fucking white trash! And they're backstabbing liars. The war has definitely started back up in this house. It's on, man! I want my juice back! I want my Twinkies back! I will fuck up Hunter! He thinks he knows me! Hell no!”
 
Three hours later, the Party Animals snuck into the house, the Street Urchins hearing their squeaky shoes trying to sneak into the room. “HOUSE MEETING IN TEN MINUTES!!” Chris yelled at them from the kitchen.
 
The Party Animals were three hours, almost four hours late for the meeting, and Hunter, in his intoxicated state, could see smoke escaping the Urchins' ears. Just then, Randy came into the kitchen muttering something, which angered Chavo. “Hell no!” the Mexican Warrior exclaimed. “Is he serious?! Is he fucking serious?!”
 
“What?” said Randy. “Are you asking me am I serious?”
 
“Yeah! You're almost four hours late! What the fuck are you muttering shit about?! Are you that drunk you can't learn to say shit to my face?! Is that it?! Who the fuck do you think you are?!”
 
Randy's blue eyes were spaced out drunk. “Who are you that…” The Legend Killer continued to back his argument, still spaced out.
 
“You're an idiot!” Chavo continued to confront him, the Rated R Superstar snickering in behind the computer. “You're a motherfucking idiot! You can't run this house anyway you want, fucking puto!”
 
Chavo was an impatient person sometimes, especially if he was forced to wait for people he despised. Randy wanted to brush it off, not even apologizing to him for the drunken comments. The Party Animals were getting to the Mexican Warrior, and he was ready to explode. The two factions finally got into the living room, with Chris asking Adam for the time. “It's probably 10:45!” exclaimed Chavo.
 
“It's 10:55,” said Adam.
 
“It's almost four minutes until eleven,” Chris scolded the Party Animals, “and we've been waiting since seven. It's obvious that you guys don't care—
 
“See, what happened was,” Hunter explained, “we were stuck in traffic—
 
“For three hours, Hunter?” Adam asked him, green eyes not believing a word the Game had to say.
 
“Why is Orton drunk, then?” said Chavo, pointing to Randy, spaced out drunk.
 
“Fuck you, Guerrero!” Randy retorted.
 
“FUCK YOU, TOO, THEN!!” The Mexican Warrior imitated Randy by exaggerating a tantrum on the floor and on the couch between Chris and Adam, causing the latter to burst out laughing. “Yeah, fuck you, too! I said, fuck you, too, huh?! Yeah, you dumb son of a bitch! Fuck you, you cunt! Yeah! Yeah, huh, you fuck! I'm the Legend Killer! WAH!!”
 
The Missourian rolled his blue eyes in sarcasm. “You need to see someone about that, really.”
 
“Shut the fuck up, drunk ass! You're so stupid!”
 
“All right,” said Chris. “Calm down, now, Chavo. Anyway, do you guys mind if we separate the fridge?”
 
“Yeah,” said Hunter.
 
“Like, you guys get the one with the freezer—
 
“Done, done.”
 
“Good. Hunter, you still owe me the money to replace my juice and my Twinkies. You haven't done it yet. I've been waiting since last week, and if I don't get my juice and Twinkies back by Sunday, I'm gonna be really pissed off—
 
“But I-I—
 
“Can I finish, please? I'm not gonna cut you guys off—
 
“Yeah, but—
 
“Look, Hunter, you're interrupting me—
 
“I'm sorry, but let me—
 
“But you're still interrupting me—
 
“I—
 
“But you're still interrupting me—
 
“Yeah—
 
“But you're still interrupting me—
 
“Chris, cool it, please,” Chavo pleaded.
 
The Sexy Beast scoffed. “But he's interrupting me. It's obvious that the three of you don't really care, like I said. If it were up to me, we wouldn't have a house meeting, because I feel we don't accomplish shit. Whatever I say to you three, it goes from one ear into the other.”
 
To Chris, it was clear that Hunter, Randy, and Shawn against him, Chavo, and Adam couldn't win, and they should just back down and save the embarrassment for another day. It was what it was. The next day, Shawn visited Chris in his bedroom with no harm being done to him. The Heartbreak Kid wanted to get on the Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla's good side, so he spoke, “I think I'm dumb sometimes, 'cause I'm so smart. Everyone thinks I'm stupid, but I'm not. I know more than you, Triple H, and everyone in the house is combined. I'm so smart that I can't concentrate. You're talking to me, and I'm thinking about something else.”
 
“No, I think that's just the symptoms of ADD,” said Chris.
 
“No way.”
 
“Yeah, I think you have ADD, man.”
 
But to Chris, Shawn is by far, was not the brightest bulb in the room. He proved that at the party meeting with Ken and Pearl. He always proved that when he and Hunter are in DX. Adam always had a theory about people that posed for Playgirl or Playboy: Their looks (including their genitals or boobs) always made them smarter. “You know horseshoes are mammals?” Shawn told him.
 
“What?” he responded with a slight chortle. “Horseshoes?”
 
“Yeah, they look like horses, but they're fishes. But they're not actually fishes, they're mammals.”
 
“You mean seahorses, Shawn?”
 
“Yeah! Seahorses are mammals because they have babies from their vaginas. God, you're gonna look so dumb after this.”
 
Chris wanted to know more from inside Shawn's head, so he asked him, “You know anything about Science?”
 
“Science?” he replied. “That's for stupid people. Science people are so stupid that they make up stuff like Science Fiction. Albert Einstein was so stupid! E=MC2?! What's that supposed to mean?”
 
“Shawn, Science and Science Fiction are two very different things. Science Fiction is books and television—
 
The Texan rolled his eyes. “About Science, duh!”
 
“No, no, no, Science is where you discover things—
 
“No, discovering is America. You discover America, and then Christopher Columbus is an American who discovered America. I know he's a Spaniard, but he's an American. I'm not stupid, Chris!”
 
“Right, but he was born in Spain—
 
“I don't care! Come on! You're Canadian. You were born in America, but you're Canadian. Columbus was born in Spain, but he discovered America, so that makes him an American. Anyone that puts their hands on this country is an American.”
 
“Shawn, you just said that. You just said because I'm Canadian—
 
“Right, right. Don't listen to what I say all the time. Basically, I'm right. Anyway, you're giving me a headache right now, Chris.”
 
All of a sudden, Chris retreated to the pool outside from his bedroom. “No, you're creeping me the fuck out!”
 
“You're just mad, 'cause I'm smarter than you!” The Heartbreak Kid yelled.
 
He ran towards the shark tank bar by the living room, and stared at the sharks and fishes swimming by. An orange fish caught the Texan's attention and let his eyes follow it around the tank. “Ooh!” he exclaimed. “You're pretty!”
 
Shawn merrily skipped to the kitchen and sat across Adam on the computer. “Hey, Adam?” he spoke to him.
 
“What?” he responded derisively.
 
“Do you think fish think?”
 
Adam stared at him improbably. “What?!” he exclaimed. “I don't have time to think about that kind of shit. I think about shaving, food, getting highlights done on my hair tomorrow.”
 
“Really? Well, he was looking at me, and he swam away, and then I go bother him, and he turns around and looks at me again—So you don't think they think?”
 
“You're thinking about animals thinking, Shawn. Honestly, I really don't care if animals think.”
 
“What? No! Me and that orange fish have a connection.” Shawn skipped to the closet to change.
 
The longhaired Canadian got off from the computer and went into the fridge to eat the leftover spaghetti from last night when Chris came in to check his emails. “You know something, Chris?” he told him. “I know exactly who Shawn Michaels is, and the guy's all right sometimes.”
 
“Yeah, he can be a bit fun to hang around,” he said, “but if you want my opinion, he's got one too many chair shots to the head in his career. Or maybe he was always dumb as hell.”
 
“Thank you! He comes at me asking me if fish think, and he thinks he's smarter than all of us in the house because he's older than—
 
“Tell me about it, I had to discuss the differences between Science and Science Fiction, and it ended up with Christopher Columbus. Geez, what is wrong with him?! How can you be so stupid and think that your looks are going to make you intelligent? I'm glad we didn't let him dye his hair.”
 
“Why?”
 
“He's a genuine blond from the inside.”
 
At the pool outside, Randy and Hunter hung out on the deck chairs trying to tan, when Randy snickered. “Hey, I heard Chris and Edge talk about Shawn this afternoon,” he said to the Game. “He's finally nominated for `Dumbass of the Year'.”
 
“That's awesome,” he replied. “I can't wait until we get to do our awards ceremony. The `Feminist of the Year' award goes out to Y2J, Chris Jericho! Who else can, whether he has short hair or long hair, pass off as a loudmouth, sarcastic, arrogant butch dyke? That's what feminists are, right?”
 
“This one's for you, babe!”
 
They went back into the dressing room upstairs and found the Heartbreak Kid fixing his hair. “Shawnee,” said Randy. “We were so sad that you missed the awards ceremony. I'm getting `Drunk Bastard of the Year', Hunter's getting `Crazy Ass of the Year', and you get `Dumbass of the Year'.”
 
“No!” he whined in protest. “I wanna be M.V.P.”
 
“Hell no!” the Legend Killer turned to Hunter. “We'll give him the `Got Milk Award'.”
 
“Why?”
 
“Remember when you had that fight with Adam, and he poured a bottle of milk over your head?”
 
“Oh, yeah!” Shawn skipped to the stairs and climbed down. “I remember!”
 
Randy and Hunter rolled their eyes and scoffed. “Bleach his head and call him blond,” said Randy.
 
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the Street Urchins pulled out everything out from the fridge in order to split them. “We're getting the large one,” said Chavo. “It's the only one that ain't stained.”
 
Just then, Shawn walked into the kitchen watching the Urchins cleaning out the fridges. “You know that oil stain on the other fridge?” Adam told him sarcastically. “That's going to be for you guys. From now on, when you get drunk and try to trash the house, you go into there, see it, and you'd be like, `Oh, that's mine.'”
 
Adam loved it because their food was on one side, and the manwhores' food was on the other side. He helped Chavo make the pot brownies, and left the mess all over the counter. When they pulled the brownies from the oven, the Street Urchins left them on the stove to cool and left to an arcade. Moments later, Hunter and Randy joined Shawn and noticed the mess the Urchins left on the counter as they were separating the fridge. “Just because they left that mess,” Hunter exclaimed, “doesn't mean that we have to clean it up!”
 
“And they left the ice cream out on the counter melting,” said Randy as he picked up the half gallon box of mint chocolate chip, letting the milky green liquid drip on the counter.
 
“Don't worry about it, that's Adam's.”
 
“How are we going to make it leak out more?”
 
The Game grabbed the knife and stabbed the box. “We put a hole in it.”
 
The melted ice cream flowed heavily from the box out and onto the counter. “Dude,” said Randy, snickering.
 
“These guys are dumb as hell. I'm sorry, because it's ice cream! Who's the puto, now?” Hunter noticed the weed brownies (unaware that there was actually organic marijuana in it) on the stove cooling. He used the knife to cut a piece from the pan. “Geez, these got to be the worse brownies in the world”
 
“Then why are you eating them, dumbass?”
 
“'Cause it's theirs. I love eating their sweets. Ahh, there's nothing better than pissing them off. Hey, these are kinda good. I'm getting a kick from it.”
 
“What ever happened to the love and the peace we were supposed to have?” exclaimed Shawn. “Why is everyone so mean in this house?”
 
“Oh, come on, Shawn!” the Legend Killer scoffed as he went into the computer. “What made you change your mind all of a sudden? You used to be one of us.”
 
Orton and Triple H are being ridiculous! thought the Texan. We're staying in this house to learn how to change, and no one's bothering to do, and I'm really getting annoyed with them.
 
“It's our side of the fridge,” Hunter chirped as he took off his boxers, “and we can do whatever we want. I can put a pair of my boxers and call it a day.”
 
From the boxers, came the Legend Killer placing a sweat-stained shirt and condoms, and Hunter placing a sneaker on the door shelves. Shawn was getting disgusted with them, so he left to his room to take a nap. The two Party Animals even took pictures of their creation as they ran to their room snickering like little Kindergarten girls. The pot finally kicked into Hunter's system as the Game began to talk to himself. “What kind of weed did they sneak in?” Randy said, laughing.
 
An hour later, the Street Urchins came back from the arcade carrying fast food (for their dinner) in their hands. “Oh, my god!” exclaimed Chavo as he noticed the mess still on the counter. “Those guys didn't touch a thing!”
 
“They touched the brownies?!” Adam asked him.
 
“Yeah, they did.”
 
Adam and Chris followed the Mexican Warrior in the kitchen, and were pissed at what was left of the pot brownies. “They ate the brownies!” Chris cried. “What the eff?! Didn't we repeatedly tell those guys not to touch our stuff?! And to top it all off, didn't we tell them that we were going to separate the fridges?! That's disrespectful!”
 
As Adam grabbed a bottle of water from their side of the fridge, he noticed Hunter's dirty boxers, Randy's sweat-stained shirt, and a line of condoms hanging. “Who put their underwear in the fridge?” he said acerbically as he threw Hunter's sneaker on the floor.
 
“¡Dios mio!” cried Chavo. “What the hell? Who does that?”
 
“They're so disgusting. That's so unsanitary. They're the nastiest fuckers I ever met. Triple H, Michaels, and Orton can all share their Syphilis, Herpes, and Gonorrhea together. I don't care.”
 
A few hours later, as the Party Animals were forced to clean up the mess, Chris searched all over the house for a picture that was very dear to him. It was a picture of him and Chris Benoit from back in the day. It was in the living room from the day Jericho stayed in the house until now, and he was so upset. “You sure it isn't in the bedroom?” Adam asked.
 
“Maybe you had it behind all of the pictures in the living room?” asked Chavo
 
“I don't think anyone is crazy enough to touch my picture!” the Sexy Beast replied. “First my juice and Twinkies, now my picture of Chris and I? My picture is gone, and every single picture will turn up missing if I don't see it by tomorrow morning! I'm so pissed off!”
 
That picture of him and Chris Benoit was taken at Owen Hart's funeral, and it reminded him that their souls were still there in his heart. The Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla's gut feeling told him that Hunter had his picture as punishment for Chris's actions. All Chris told him was to clean up after himself, and to buy back his two favorite items. Hunter has done neither, and it really angered Chris to a point to where he looked all over the house for a fiery confrontation. “Where the fuck is he?” he yelled as he went down the bedroom hallway. “I'm gonna fuck him up!”
 
“Chris, don't start, man!” Chavo pleaded.
 
The Mexican Warrior and the Rated R Superstar followed Chris to the front door where Hunter and Randy stood ready for Chris's sweltering rage. “Don't fucking talk to me, Hunter!” Chris yelled at the Game. “You're a shady son-of-a-bitch, you know that?”
 
“What'd I do now, Chris?” he responded coldly. “Every time I come home this time of the night, you always have something to say to me!”
 
“Because you're always up to something!”
 
“Fuck you, Jericho!” All of a sudden, the Game and Y2J began a shouting match and an almost brawl, but the two Urchins and Randy held their leaders back as Shawn stood in front of the kitchen watching.
 
“Hunter!” Chris continued yelling. “Get your ass back over here, bitch!”
 
“Adam, Chavo!” Hunter warned the two Urchins while Randy held him back into the kitchen. “You better control your friend here! I don't need him coming at me like that! I don't give a fuck!”
 
“Really? `Cause I'll take all three of you motherfuckers on! You wanna fuck with me?! Get your ass back over here, fucking pussy! I will fuck you up, fucking pussy!”
 
The two Urchins were getting tired of having to hold back the Sexy Beast as they tried to hold back from climbing the wall to try to pull off Hunter's hair. “I want it,” said Hunter. “I want it!”
 
“Hunter, shut the fuck up before I kick your ass back to Connecticut!”
 
They're making Chris Jericho to be some kind of heavyweight fighter, he thought. This guy is just, I don't know. Even when there aren't any people at all trying to hold us back, he'll just go in and attack me like how he always was, crazy.
 
“Chris, come on, now!” Adam yelled at Chris to calm down.
 
“Could one of you tell me what the hell Jericho's talking about?” Hunter asked the two Urchins.
 
“You need to go back to fucking Connecticut, you stupid bitch!” Chris yelled. “And I wouldn't go and touch your fucking picture!”
 
The shorthaired Canadian had enough of the craziness in the house. So, he left for the rest of the night until…
 
BASLAMM!!
 
…he came back in the morning completely wasted, deadly smelling like booze. He was cursing, and mostly the two Street Urchins and Randy feared for the worst from Crazy Chris (Chris's dangerous drunken personality). “You know something, Triple H?!” he yelled at the Game, who was worn out and didn't want to get into it with him. “You will never, ever, have as much class as I have! I hate you! I've never hated someone so much in my life, Hunter!”
 
And, no over has ever gotten into the King of Kings' skin other than the Sexy Beast. The man brought out his worst qualities, as did everyone that was on his hated list. “Jericho, my ears!” Hunter said sarcastically.
 
“I don't give a fuck!” Chris yelled. “So do something! So you think you're bad, huh?”
 
“I know I'm bad!”
 
“Really? Committing adultery isn't bad. Being nothing but a fucking pig isn't bad. And another thing, I know you removed my picture from the fucking living room!”
 
“I did not touch your picture, Jericho!”
 
“Really? Who the fuck did it, then? Who the fuck did it, then?”
 
“I don't know, Chris, but I would never do that, no matter how much I despise you!”
 
“Well, one of you guys did it!”
 
“Well, I would never do something like that, Chris. Understand that.”
 
“I'm gonna make your live a living hell, Triple H. I am gonna beat the holy hell out of you, but I'm not ready to yet.”
 
“Why don't you go ahead, right now, Jericho? Let's see who goes home first! Come on, Jericho!”
 
Adam rolled his eyes as he and Chavo went to where Chris stood by Hunter and Randy's room, drunk as hell, causing trouble. “The only way you're gonna go home, Hunter,” the shorthaired blond Canadian continued, “is in a body bag in a hearse after I stab your heart out, hang your upside down so the blood can spill to the floor.”
 
The Rated R Superstar's green eyes widen as he heard Chris threatening to murder the Game literally as Chavo looked on rolling his eyes. They weren't his bodyguards, but Chris didn't have enough sense to know that hurting Hunter would send him home, and that was his problem. As the Street Urchins left to the kitchen, Shawn went outside to the pool and sobbed through his hands as he was the one responsible for taking Chris's picture and ripping it up the night he was high on caffeine and trashed the house. Randy and Hunter followed him and sat next to him. “I'm gonna have to tell him,” the Heartbreak Kid said. “He should know that I was the one who ripped up his picture of him and Benoit.”
 
“You're not gonna tell him!” they responded in a frostily tone.
 
“I have to, man.”
 
“If you tell Jericho,” Hunter warned him, “It's on.”
 
Shawn didn't care if Randy and Hunter told him not to let Chris know about the picture. He felt like it was duty to tell him because it was fair to him, and he didn't have anything to do with it. In the kitchen, the two Street Urchins hung out trying to get their leader sober, but to no avail as Hunter stepped in to play on the Internet. “Look what dragged in,” Chris said sarcastically, his voice almost to a slur. “White trash fucker! Thanks to white trash people like him, Jerry Springer is still the number one syndicated talk show! Least I can afford to win a title instead of marrying someone for it!”
 
“Chris, shut the fuck up!” Adam yelled at him.
 
“White trash! White trash! Lolly-lolly, white trash!! Get off the fucking computer!”
 
“Knock it off, Jericho!” yelled Chavo.
 
“I hate that white trash fucker! His daughters are going to grow up as white trash crack whores on the street!”
 
“Hey, Chavo,” said Hunter as he got off the computer, “it's all yours.”
 
“You better buy me back my fucking juice and Twinkies, you white trash assclown!” Chris yelled at him.
 
“Oh, I better?”
 
“What the fuck did you just say?!” Chris followed him to the front of the house.
 
“Chris!” yelled Chavo.
 
“Chris, that is enough!” yelled Adam. “You're going to get the cops in here again!”
 
The Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla stepped out of the house, cursing out Hunter. “Give me back my juice and Twinkies or else!”
 
“Or else what?!” responded Hunter. “Chris, you ask me nicely—
 
“I don't have to fucking ask you nicely!”
 
“Well, you don't talk to me like that!” They got into each other's faces.
 
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Adam and Chavo, the two Street Urchins, heard nothing but silence painting the house. Adam could sense that something wasn't right after their leader had confronted the Party Animals' leader, while Chavo figured Chris passed out on his bed. All a sudden, Adam ran into the front of the house outside and saw Chris and Hunter brawling it out onto the dead-end street. Who else noticed the two leaders fighting when all he wanted was to visit the Bad Guys? The Nature Boy, Ric Flair, of course.
 
Rule #1 of Living in the Bad Guys Club house: No Physical Violence between Roommates…
 
 
…HAS BEEN BROKEN!!
 
 
 
TO BE CONTINUED…