SUPER AUTHOR'S NOTE: So because I'm certifiably nuts and a complete and total moron ... HTML just ain't working on this site for me. Now, I'm convinced it is some divine smite that I can never be totally and completely pleased with any post that I ever put up so the logical conclusion is that it is all the Easy Mac's fault. And thus, I've opted to mark the narration, narrator's voice in these thingies. // ... // and I'm just too damn lazy to make any attempt at breaking the poetic verse into readable prose. You'll see me writing an NC17 PWP, Alvin and Chipmunks/X- Men/Resident Evil crossover before I fix it. Special Notice: If anyone asks for that ... I accept Visa, MasterCard, Personal Checks, Wrestling Memorabilia and Paypal ... oh and coconuts. I love coconuts. Oh, and please Review. I love reviews too. And for those forums that this does not apply for ... uhm ... it's easier to read?

...

I really need to remember that my readers don't speak 'Crazy Bitch'.

Title: How the Bisch Stole Christmas

Author: Crimson Coin Crimson_Coin@yahoo.com

Rating: PG13

Summery: You get the gist from the title.

Disclaimer: How the Grinch Stole Christmas is owned by Dr. Seuss and was not written by me. I have simply used and tweaked the story for this parody. The WWE and any superstars mentioned, including Eric Bischoff, Matt Hardy and Stacy Keibler are not my property and most likely never will be.

Timeline: It's Christmas.

Archiving: E-mail me first and ask. I'd prefer to send the story as a file through email that way I know exactly what is being archived.

+++

// Every Who Down in Who-ville Liked Christmas a lot... //

Eric Bischoff looked to the ceiling from his desk, pausing, listening hard. Tapping the top of his pen against the papers a few moments, he merely shook his head, going back to his work.

// But the Bisch, Who worked just North of Who-ville, Did NOT! //

"Ok, who said that?" Bischoff stood, looking quickly around the room. "Where are you?" He looked under his desk, behind the door, under the bed, then back to the ceiling. "Lord help me if I'm going nuts." Finally convinced that he was hearing things, Bischoff sat back down.

// The Bisch hated Christmas! //

"Alright, That's it!" Bischoff flew out of his chair. "That's it, where are you?"

// I'm hiding. Nyah! //

"Hiding huh?" Bischoff put his hands on his hips. "When I get my hands on you ... wait, what the hell are you doing?"

// Telling a story and you are going along with it. //

"No, I'm not. I want nothing to do with the strange voices in my head." Bischoff paced the room. "My Doctor distinctly told me to ignore the likes of you if I want to stay out of prison, which in fact I do."

// It's because you hate Christmas, isn't it. I know you do. You hate Christmas. //

"So what if I hate Christmas."

// Trust me you're going to hate it even more and you'll want to ruin it for everyone else. //

Bischoff paused, raising his brow in curiosity. "Really?"

// Yes. And I know how much you love to make people miserable. Just think how bloody marvelous it will be if you can make your roster completely miserable on Christmas. //

"Alright. I'm game. So where the hell are you?"

// I told you I was hiding. And I don't plan to show my face anytime soon. So shall we continue?//

"Regal? Is that you? Where are you?"

// I BLOODY WELL TOLD YOU I WAS HIDING. . Moving on. //

Bischoff shuddered as the booming English accent echoed through his hotel room. "Fine, fine, fine ... moving on."

// The Bisch hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season! Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason. //

"There is a reason. You want to know the reason? I ..."

// Nobody gives a bloody damn about the reason. Now will you just shut up and do what I tell you to do? //

"Alright, alright. Don't get your britches in a knot."

// It could be that his head wasn't screwed on quite right. It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight. //

"I'm not commenting. Just so you know ... I am NOT commenting."

// But I think that the most likely reason of all May have been that his heart was two sizes too small. //

"Excuse me." Eric placed a hand on his chest. "I like to think that I have quite the generous heart. I mean when was the last time I fired someone? When was the last time I actually abused my power on men or women?"

// If I recall correctly, I believe Lita was your last target, oh say, three weeks ago? //

"And that was not abusing my power. I was trying to motivate her."

// Yeah, motivate her into your bed. //

"WHAT WAS THAT?!"

// Nothing Nothing. So you don't want me to say 'heart'. Would you rather me say (beep)? That your (beep) was two sizes too small? //

"Hey, now that is crossing the line. I am NOT small."

// Awww, isn't he cute. Look how tiny. Ah boo boo. Aw boo boo boo. Aw awww awwww. //

"I AM NOT SMALL! And if you coo at me one more time I swear to God I'll ..."

// So heart is fine? //

Bischoff clenched his teeth. "Heart is fine."

// (Chuckling) Most excellent. Now where was I? You must stop interrupting me on so many occasions. //

"Blow it out your ass."

// What? //

"Nothing."

// But, Whatever the reason, His ... heart ... heh heh ... or his shoes, //

Eric grumbled.

// He stood there on Christmas Eve, hating the Whos. //

"Who are the whos?"

// Huh? //

"The whos ... who are the whos?"

// Your roster. What the bloody hell did you expect me to call them? Wrestlers? Do you know how hard it is to find a word that rhymes with 'wrestlers'? My Lord, it's just never enough for you, is it? //

"Fine. I hate the Whos. Let's get this over and done with."

// Staring down from his cave ... uhm hotel room with a sour, Bischy frown At the warm lighted windows below in their town. For he knew every Who down in Who-ville beneath //

"Who-ville? Where the hell is Who-ville?"

// Good Lord, man, can't I even finish a bloody phrase? //

"I just wanna know what the hell you're talking about."

// Well considering you're up here at this top ritzy hotel and your roster is stuck down there at a Holiday Inn. Holiday Inn is who-ville. //

[Author's Note: Good Lord, Holiday Inn please don't sue me. I like Holiday Inn, I really do. It's a great place and I stay there often and highly recommend it. (chuckles nervously)]

"Fine Fine, the Holiday Inn is Who-ville. Go on."

// For he knew every Who down in Who-ville beneath Was busy now, hanging a mistleoe wreath. //

(Pause)

// What? No comments? //

"No, I'm good for now."

// (Sighs) Fine. As long as you're sure? //

"Quite."

// "And they're hanging their stockings!" he snarled with a sneer. "Tomorrow is Christmas! It's practically here!" Then he growled, with his Bisch fingers nervously drumming, "I MUST find a way to keep Christmas from coming!" For, tomorrow, he knew... //

"Woah, Woah Woah. Don't I even get to say my own dialogue? I mean really now, I'm not demented. I think I could handle some lines. I really do."

// SHUT UP! GOOD LORD, WOULD YOU JUST LET ME GET THROUGH THIS THING AND JUST PLAY ALONG AND NOT ADD BISCHOFF'S TWO CENTS AFTER EVERY BLOODY DAMN RHYME! //

"Man, relax. What, did somebody piss in your tea?"

//That was out of line. //

Bischoff chuckled. "Chris Jericho pissed in your tea."

//You are going to regret ever bringing that up, you slimy American weasel. //

"Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, you English Windbag. Let's go, I don't have all night."

//...All the Who girls and boys Would wake up bright and early. They'd rush for their toys! And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise! That's one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!

Then the Whos, young and old, would sit down to a feast. And they'd feast! And they'd feast! And they'd FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! They would start on Who-pudding, and rare Who-roast-beast Which was something the Bisch couldn't stand in the least! //

"You know they're only going to TGI Friday's right? None of this who-beast shit."

//And THEN They'd do something he liked least of all! Every Who down in Who-ville, the tall and the small, Would stand close together, with Christmas bells ringing. They'd stand hand-in-hand. And the Whos would start singing! //

"None of that would piss me off. That is such a crock of shit."

//(Chuckling) No, but I know what does indeed ruffle your feathers. The fact that Chris Jericho is banging the ever-loving hell out of ... hmm ... who was it again ... ah yes, Trish Stratus? //

Bischoff scowled.

//Yes, I do believe that you wanted her. And just think you'll never have her. Merry Christmas. I'll make sure to video tape their Christmas Eve Romp just so you can be forever reminded of exactly what you can never have and the complete jackass you really are. And even more reminded of the assclown ... that does have her. //

"You are one fucking asshole. Do you know how big of an asshole you are?"

//(Clearing Throat) Why yes, I do. I'll be giving you the full eight- volume collection of The Jericho/Stratus too hot for TV love fest. A collection worth over $79.99 and yours for the price of only your self worth and my total amusement. //

"I hate you."

// Good. //

"Hate ... you."

// They'd sing! And they'd sing! AND they'd SING! SING! SING! SING! And the more the Bisch thought of the Who-Christmas-Sing The more the Bisch thought, "I must stop this whole thing! //

"Actually I'm thinking of hunting you down and cutting your heart out with a spoon."

// Oooo, somebody's been watching their Kevin Costner collection. //

"You will be in so much trouble when I find you. Keep going, you tea drinking sissy man."

// "Why for fifty-three yea ... //

"HEY! I'm only forty-six."

// "Why for fifty-three years I've put up with it now! I MUST stop Christmas from coming! ...But HOW?" //

"I will kill you. Fear me ... for I will kill you."

// Then he got an idea! An awful idea! THE BISCH GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA! //

"It's about damn time."

// I should seriously change this story to screw with your head. //

"Just keep going, teabag."

// "I know just what to do!" The Bisch laughed in his throat. And he made a quick Santy Claus hat and a coat. And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great Bischy trick! "With this coat and this hat, I'll look just like Saint Nick!" //

Bischoff jolted as he suddenly found himself wearing a Santa Clause outfit. "What the hell is this?"

// You're lucky I didn't say you looked like a dick. //

"NO COSTUMES!"

// Would you prefer the Rockette version of Santa Clause. I'm sure you could fit into one of those skimpy outfits. //

"NO NO! This is fine. Fine, peachy. I love being dressed like Santa Clause."

// "All I need is a reindeer..." The Bisch looked around. But since reindeer are scarce, there was none to be found. Did that stop the old Bisch...? No! The Bisch simply said, "If I can't find a reindeer, I'll make one instead!" So he called his dog Matt. Then he took some red thread And he tied a big horn on top of his head. //

Matt Hardy walked into Bischoff's hotel room. "Hey Boss, I'm here for the ..." And just like that, a giant antler fell on Matt's head, tied under his chin. "Oof." Matt stumbled a little then looked in the mirror. "Sweet Mother of God. What the fuck?" He started pulling at the antler. "Get it off."

Bischoff tried pulling too. "It ... it won't come off."

// Heh Heh Heh Heh //

Matt finally noticed the state that his boss was in, heard the chuckling and furrowed his brow. "Uhm, boss?

"Just don't ask." Bischoff said with a shake of the head. "Work with me. Please, Hardy. Just work with me."

Matt shrugged. "You're the boss."

// THEN He loaded some bags And some old empty sacks On a ramshakle sleigh And he hitched up old Matt. //

A sleigh miraculously spawned and a harness wrapped itself around Matt. The Hardy's eyes widened. "Oh no no no. You are not hitching me up to any old sleigh. Not gonna happen. I told you once, Bisch, I don't dig this kinda stuff especially with men. Not gonna happen."

"Does it look like I have a damn choice?" Bischoff argued. "I mean really now. If you value your contract, play along till it's over."

// Then the Bisch said, "Giddyap!" And the sleigh started down Toward the homes where the Whos Lay a-snooze in their town. //

"Hey," Matt protested. "Watch that whip or I'll ..."

"Just pull this thing down the hill, Hardy, or you're fired."

Matt snorted. "Merry Fucking Christmas to you too, Boss."

//All their windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air. All the Whos were all dreaming sweet dreams without care When he came to the first house in the square. "This is stop number one," The old Bischy Claus hissed And he climbed to the roof, empty bags in his fist. //

"I am not climbing the roof. Open the damned door."

//Picky Picky Picky. Where's your holiday spirit? //

"With your wife. Now open the damned door."

// Fine if you wish it to be that way. Ruin the story. Pick their locks for all I care.

Then he slid down the chimney. A rather tight pinch. But if Santa could do it, then so could the Bisch. //

"Bisch ain't sliding down no chimneys; in fact there isn't even a goddamn chimney. The door is the way." And just like that, Bischoff pulled out his credit card, expertly picking the lock for the first room. "See. Now there's some skill."

// He got stuck only once, for a moment or four. His fat ass couldn't fit through the Bloody Damned door. //

"THOSE ARE NOT THE WORDS!" Bischoff harshly whispered, stepping into the room.

// Shove it. //

"Up yours"

Matt grinned a holiday grin. "Now there's the Holiday Spirit."

// Shut up //

"Shut Up." Bischoff agreed at the same time.

// Where the little Who stockings all hung in a row. "These stockings," he grinned, "are the first things to go!" //

Bischoff collected all the socks and laundry in the room. "Close enough."

// Then he slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant, Around the whole room, and he took every present! New shirts! And jewelry! Roller blades! Albums! New tights! Dresses! Popcorn! And Rum! //

Bisch smiled. "Oh how I love Rum." He stealthily pocketed the bottle.

//And he stuffed them in bags. Then the Bisch, very nimbly, Stuffed all the bags, one by one, up the chimney! Uhm ... I mean out the door. //

"Hah! Screw your rhyme scheme."

//Piss off. //

"Piss this."

// Then he slunk to the icebox. He took the Whos' feast! He took the Who-pudding! He took the roast beast! He cleaned out that icebox as quick as a flash. Why, that Bisch even took their last can of Who-hash! //

"Man, nice mini bar. Hmmm ... hash?" Bisch looked back over his shoulder to Matt.

Matt only shrugged from his place in the corridor. "Must be RVD's room."

"Ahh, right."

//Then he stuffed all the food up the chimney with glee. "And NOW!" grinned the Bisch, "I will stuff up the tree!" //

//And the Bisch grabbed the tree, and he started to shove When he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove. He turned around fast, and he saw a small Who! Little Stacy-Lou Who, who was not more than two ... uhm twenty two. //

"Woah woah woah." Bisch held up his hands. "First of all, that is the most pitiful tree I've ever seen. And Stacy-Lou Who? Where is she ... AH!" Bischoff jumped as he saw Stacy, standing in front of him in a cotton nightdress, looking quite sad and pitiful. He looked back then forth and Stacy only batted her eyes.

// The Bisch had been caught by this little Who daughter Who'd got out of bed for a cup of cold water. She stared at the Bisch and said, "Santy Claus, why, "Why are you taking our Christmas tree? WHY?" //

Bisch looked up. "Good God, you're kidding me. Please tell me you're kidding."

//Play the Bloody part or I'll make you stand in the middle of Hunter's room while he's screwing Marty Jannety. //

"I thought he married Stephanie McMahon."

//Stephanie McMahon, Marty Jannety ... I get them both mixed up all the time. Like Shelton Benjamin and Shaniqua. Resemblance is scary. Think about it. //

"I don't want to."

//But, you know, that old Bisch was so smart and so slick He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick! "Why, my sweet little tot," the fake Santy Claus lied, //

Bischoff scowled. "'Sweet little Slut' is more like it."

//TOT! THE FAKE SANTY CLAUS LIED, "There's a light on this tree that won't light on one side. "So I'm taking it home to my workshop, my dear. "I'll fix it up there. Then I'll bring it back here." //

"Heh" snickered Bisch "We all know how she likes wood."

//No Bloody Comment. And his fib fooled the girl. Then he patted her head And he got her a drink and he sent her to bed. And when Stacy-Lou Who went to bed with her cup, HE went to the chimney and stuffed the tree up! //

"Drink is right." Eric chuckled.

//What did you give her? //

"Nothing."

//ERIC, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU GIVE THAT GIRL? //

Eric shrugged. "I didn't want her coming after me again."

Matt Hardy laughed. "Roofie-tastic."

// (Groans) Roofies. I should've known. //

"HAH!" Bischoff pointed to the ceiling. "I still resist."

// I will screw you so hard ... //

"I know you go for that thing. But that is a no entry zone on me."

//Then the last thing he took Was the log for their fire. Then he went up the chimney himself, the old liar. On their walls he left nothing but hooks, and some wire.

... Uhm ... just don't worry about that part. Move on. //

"Yeah, that's what I thought." He pointed. "Next room."

Matt pulled hard on the sleigh.

//And the one speck of food The he left in the house Was a crumb that was even too small for a mouse. //

"Stop here," Bischoff ordered and he placed his ear against the door to listen in. Quickly he pulled back. "I uhm ... they're ... uhm occupied. We should move on."

// Awww ... that's Hunter's room. What you don't want a sneak peak? //

"ONWARD!"

//Then He did the same thing To the other Whos' houses

Leaving crumbs Much too small For the other Whos' mouses!

It was quarter past dawn... All the Whos, still a-bed All the Whos, still a-snooze When he packed up his sled, Packed it up with their presents! The ribbons! The wrappings! The tags! And the tinsel! The trimmings! The trappings! //

"So much damn shit." Bischoff snarled, helping Matt push the sleigh out the hotel. "Damn they don't kid when they say that Christmas is a consumer holiday."

"Your telling me" Matt said as he strained to move the sled.

// Three thousand feet up! Up the side of Mount Crumpit //

"THREE THOUSAND!"

// Fine. Down the road just a tad, to the city dump pit! He rode to the tiptop to dump it! "Pooh-pooh to the Whos!" he was Bisch-ish-ly humming. "They're finding out now that no Christmas is coming! "They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do! "Their mouths will hang open a minute or two "Then all the Whos down in Who-ville will all cry BOO-HOO!" //

Bischoff laughed. "They all will when they find out I docked their pay."

//"That's a noise," grinned the Bisch, "That I simply must hear!" So he paused. And the Bisch put a hand to his ear. And he did hear a sound rising over the snow. It started in low. Then it started to grow...

But the sound wasn't sad! Why, this sound sounded merry! It couldn't be so! But it WAS merry! VERY! //

"This is such bullshit!"

// He stared down at Who-ville! The Bisch popped his eyes! Then he shook! What he saw was a shocking surprise!

Every Who down in Who-ville, the tall and the small, Was singing! Without any presents at all! He HADN'T stopped Christmas from coming! IT CAME! Somehow or other, it came just the same! //

"I don't hear anything, you lying sack of monkey crap. I hear nothing. Nothing. It's too early for those lazy bums to get up anyway."

// Well when they do get up, they'll be singing and festive and ... just shut the hell up. //

"HAH!"

// And the Bisch, with his Bisch-feet ice-cold in the snow, //

"This isn't snow."

//Shut up. Stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could it be so? It came without bonuses! It came without tags! "It came without packages, boxes or bags!" And he puzzled three hours, `till his puzzler was sore. Then the Bisch thought of something he hadn't before! "Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store. "Maybe Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!" //

"Excuse me, I have not come to this revelation. I have not decided that they are happy anyway. They're all miserable because humans are despicable and material assholes who can never see anything past what the true meaning should be since they're all focused on presents and gifts."

// You know ... I tried. I really did try. You are just one miserable Scrooge, do you know that? //

"There's an idea." Bischoff shot back, pulling the beard down from his face. "Why couldn't you have opted for 'A Bischmas Carol'? Huh? At least then, it would've been interesting. And I could've been a grinch the whole time. Everybody knows that Jeff Hardy, the fruit of Christmas Present, would have been rainbow-ly wonderful. Or Savage the Ghost of Christmas Nostalgia. Come on, what am I the only one with vision"

Matt nodded. "You tell 'em, Boss."

"Screw them all." Bischoff shouted. "No change of heart and I ain't racin over there to return any of these gifts. They can all rot in hell. My roster has done nothing but made me miserable."

// You can't change the story. Move that little ass and bring those presents back. //

"SCREW YOU, YOU CONSUMER WHORE! If they really don't need the presents, then they won't get the presents. They can celebrate without them."

//That's it! I quit. This fucking bullshit and I was just playing along and we were almost there. Almost there. You know what, I hope they come for your bloody stingy hide and throw you in jail for robbery. HAH! YES! BREAKING AND ENTERING! Cheerio, Mate. Merry Fucking Christmas to All and Deck the Halls and I hope you choke on your fruit cake, Tra la la la dee fuckin la ... (a door slams) //

FIN

*** Ok, yes I am entirely aware that this is insane. But I just had to run with it, please forgive me. Other than that, if it made you laugh, review me, email me, let me know. If you thought it was fucking stupid and I should burn for all eternity ... well let me know that too. - C.C.***