When Mary Attacks!


I don't know about you, but I am goddamned sick of all these stupid Mary Sue OC/Randy Orton crap writing pieces that pop up every three seconds. Feeling the same way? Read on!

General Manager of Raw, Eric Bischoff stared at the office around him. He sank into his cushy leather chair, and his eye twitched.

Surrounding him were…


Now, Eric was a man who enjoyed the finer things in life-mainly beautiful women. Of course, he had to blackmail and threaten them to get 'jiggy' with him but still, the finer things in life. In front of him was a joke.

There were ten blondes, ten brunettes, ten 'raven trussed beauties' and several redheads with startling resemblances to Lita, Kane, or Matt Hardy. The latter of the four were, of course, the other three's offspring with fiery and violent souls that could only be tamed by the man known to kill legends.

Randy Orton. (Poor sap.)

They dressed in an array of leather, lace, and silk, with smooth, creamy complexions, and startling blue/purple/green flecked with brown eyes. Decked out in wrestling gear, but with such superb touches, it looked beautiful enough to grace a runway, because, of course, as well as being naturally stunning, these women all were the best wrestlers. At least half of them had Women's Championships over their shoulders, and the other half had recently lost it after being ambushed by thirty men whom she bravely fought off until her poor body was exhausted.

They stood patiently, warily, as untrustful Mary Sues may be around their own kind, and of course, they had been so jaded in the past they couldn't trust anyone but the dashing, blue eyed Orton, around Eric's desk, all demanding the same thing:

"We want Randy!"

They were all his lovers, wives, girlfriends, long lost childhood friends, one night standers and long time best friends who had fallen in love with him. They all wanted him. Now please. Before their championship matches.

Now, Eric Bischoff may be portrayed as an evil man on the tellie, but in reality, he's only a little better then on TV. The camera adds ten pounds, and he gets grumpy. Anyways…

"He…is not here yet."

The Mary Sues sighed, disappointed, and left his office, off to search for their beloved Randy.

Little did those MS's know was that Randy was alive and well in the arena. He was currently hiding beneath a large, inconspicuous food table with about ten other wrestlers and the Divas. The MS's would never be near food, never-unless they were on a candlelight dinner with Randy, or meeting up with him at a fancy restaurant.

Stacy was curled up on his lap, looking terrified. On her way over, she had been brutally assaulted by three MS's, who claimed she was stealing their best friend turned passionate lover. Trish was also in shock, sitting by Christian. She wasn't aware of how many Women's Championships there were on Raw.

Chris Jericho, who had his fair share of MS run ins, sighed, and smacked his head on the table ceiling thing, "How long do we have to hide here? I mean, I have the Highlight Reel coming up. The MS's can't assault and rape me out there. They think somehow that the crowds will go so wild someone will get hurt. Damn ass clown-ettes."

Batista shivered, "I don't know man, but I can't take this anymore. Why'd I have to win the rumble! Now they're making stories and fantasies about me!" He burst into tears. Victoria patted his arm sympathetically.

Hulking under the table, Kane grinned, "See, that's why I'm so scary and got married publicly. The MS's almost always ignore guys who they know are married. Really knowing, I mean. Right Lita?" His wife gave him a withering look, "Yeah, but I still always get paired up with young Randall over there on the damned world. No offense Orton. I'm just grouchy because I have several children out there whom I never had. Unless I got drunk for nine months and my child was raised by pixies."

Randy shook his head, "Anyway…I have a match tonight. Does anyone have a fake beard or sunglasses? Hmmm?" He was met by silence. Finally, someone grumbled, "Take my coat and hat."

It was, of course, the Undertaker. Why? He'll tell you why, punk, hold on!

'Taker handed the clothing over, and mumbled, "I got me some daughters out there too who are starting to piss me off beyond belief. You have no idea how bad it is for my image to have cheerful offspring."

"Right on, brother." Said Kane, and they did the pound. Lita, once again, with the rolling of eyes.

Randy took the Undertaker's prized possessions, and slipped them on. He gave everyone a sad look, "If somehow I don't make it out there, just know I love all you guys-no not that way, you twisted bastard, that way is the me and Stacy way." He said with disgust, looking at Gene Snitsky, who had been making a funny face.

The Superstars and Divas sniffed, several bursting into tears. "Good luck Randy." Came a sob from the other end of the table. Everyone turned. Sitting there, her sparkling green eyes moist with crystal tears, was a beautiful woman by the name of Lynna. Her hair flowed down her back in a golden cascade. Her skin was-

"MARY SUE!" The wrestlers shouted, and they all jumped up, smashing the table in half and running for their dear lives.

Only Kane and Lita remained. Lita peered closely at her, "Your not my child, right?"

"Nope." Lynna answered in her melodic voice."

"Lita nodded, "Good. Kane, sweetie, darling, choke slam her into the table pieces."

"Much obliged." Kane mumbled, and a minute later, the defenseless Mary Sue was writhing on the ground.

The two linked arms, and walked off happily, humming a little. They had Randy's match to watch, after all.

I'm still gonna continue Twisted, no worries-I just need to get some stuff out of my system about some of the crappier stories on right now.