A/N: This is in response to Cara Mascara's request. Ha, I just figured out what "CM" stands for: Cara Mascara. Hehe. This is in El Punkaroonie's POV.

"You're an asshole, Phil!" Maria screamed at me, throwing her expensive stiletto heel at me. Guess who bought those? Yep, I did.

Seriously, why does she need to call me "Phil?" Yeah, my birth name is Phil Brooks, and that's pretty lame. That sounds like some random dude walking around the streets with long hair and a grizzly beard and…

Oh.

Well, it still doesn't suit me. How many times have I told this woman just to call me "Punk?" I know it's just a part of my ring name, but it sounds much better than "Phil." That reminds me of Dr. Phil and that guy is just weird.

"Why am I an asshole this time, Maria?" I asked as I caught her shoe just before it hit me in the chest. Even if it did hit me, it wouldn't have worked, but getting attacked by expensive footwear being thrown by my girlfriend isn't really a hobby of mine.

What could I have done now? I bet she's going to bitch about the nice little fan encounter we endured this afternoon. I told her that we shouldn't have gone out for lunch. Is she insane? We're not like normal people. We just can't waltz into a Red Lobster and sit down without being bothered.

Imagine it like this. You just got off from a hard day at work. You just want to sit down at your favorite restaurant and have a nice meal, but the instant you get your food, six to ten people are in your face, begging for an autograph or a picture. Damnit, I just want to eat!

"You snapped at those people. How hard is it to scribble your name down or pose for a picture for three seconds?"

But I hate pictures. I really do. Maria knows that. "Maria," here goes my attempt at sweet talking her, "I'm not as pretty and photogenic as you are."

"That's not going to work, Phil."

"Punk."

"I don't see why you're so obsessed with being called that name. It's not your name. It's your character. I'm dating Phil, not a punk."

"But I am my character. You're not an idiot like your character. I really am my character. You know, straight edge…"

"First off, this straight edge thing is really going too damn far, Phil. And second, now you're criticizing the way I work?"

What? When did I start criticizing the way she works? Chicks are weird. I swear, she better be on her period. Maybe I'll excuse the way she's running her mouth then. Then again…maybe not. This really is going too far.

"Maria, I'm not criticizing you. I'm just--"

"Nope." Damnit, there she goes interrupting again. "I'm done, Phil." She picked up her bag and headed for the door. "I'm going to stay in Ashley's room tonight, okay? I'll come back for the rest of my stuff tomorrow morning before we fly out to Japan. You can consider us over."

Did she just break up with me?

Damn.


Shit, I'm in trouble.

You see, John Morrison and I were just…exercising our arms. Yeah, that's what I'm going to call it. We were strutting down the arena in Japan before the tri-branded Supershow, doing the Vince McMahon signature strut.

"Punk! I need you in my office now."

Ah, Mr. McMahon. What a guy, really. Once Stephanie gets word of this, I'll probably get fired for making fun of her father. She really has been going on power trip firing rampages lately.

I followed Mr. McMahon to his office. Once we got inside, he motioned for me to sit down across from him at his desk. I have a lot of explaining to do.

"Look, Mr. McMahon, Morrison and I were just--"

"Oh, that? That is nothing. Making fun of my power walk is of no importance. It happens all the time."

Wow. Did he really just wave of my shenanigans? Awesome!

"Am I in any other sort of trouble?" What? I had to ask.

"No, not at all. There is no trouble concerning you to be reported of. I just have to inform you of a little appearance that I've scheduled for you."

Great. People. Maria will be thrilled. Wait, I'm not with her anymore.

"Where am I going?"

"Well, Punk, you are aware, I'm sure, that the WWE does do some types of community service. Since you are our straight edge Superstar, being that you don't drink or do drugs, you are the perfect Superstar for this assignment. We are going to be near my hometown of Greenwich, Connecticut, soon. There is a rehabilitation servicing adults ages twenty-one to thirty. I want you to appear and speak on the wonders of a straight edge lifestyle. Do you understand?"

So, I get to talk about myself to other people and stuff like that? Sweet. Oh, I guess I'd be helping people, too. That's cool, I guess. Maria would be happy. I guess I won't snap at these people. I mean, I'd be paid to be there and I'm not going to snap at some people in hospital beds. Then again, I don't have a choice to be there. Mr. McMahon specially ordered this assignment for me, so I'm kind of stuck.

"Of course, Mr. McMahon. I'd love to do this for the company." Wow, that was a total bullshitted reply. That didn't sound like me at all. Oh well, I have to sound like that in front of Vinnie Mac, I mean Mr. McMahon.

"Excellent. It will be two weeks from Saturday at one in the afternoon. You will still be expected to attend the SmackDown and ECW house show later that evening. Are we all clear?"

"Crystal." We shook hands like proper businessmen should, even though only one of us was a proper businessman. Sometimes, I don't think Vince is really a proper businessman. I left the office and went to find John Morrison again. Since we weren't getting in trouble for this, we need to continue. Making fun of the power walk is quite exhilarating.

Now that I think about it, I kind of have a bad feeling about this whole thing.