Act a Fool

John sighed as he sat down in his hotel room in New Orleans. It had been another long, grueling day of filming 12 Rounds and he was relieved that he was able to finally sit back and relax.

He reached into the minifridge that was strategically placed right next to the chair and grabbed a beer. After taking a long drink, he tilted his head back against the chair and took in the overwhelming silence around him.

It was his thirty-first birthday and he had yet to hear from any of his friends. No one had bothered to call or even send him a damn text message. It was by far the worst birthday he had ever had.

As he wallowed in the disappointment of the day, John's cell phone began to ring. He picked it up and realized that maybe the day wouldn't end with him being completely alone.

"Hey, Orton. What's up?" John answered.

"Not much, man. Listen, I was wondering if you would want to go out tonight. I'm in town for an autograph signing and I'm bored as fuck."

"Sure, man. I'll go."

"Awesome. I'll be there in about ten."

"Alright, see you then."

Although John was grateful to get out of the hotel room and spend a night out on the town with his best friend, he was rather glum about the fact that Randy hadn't mentioned anything about his birthday.

He shrugged it off before changing and heading down to the lobby to meet Randy. John looked at his friend in confusion. Normally whenever going out to a club or a bar, Randy would sport a nice, button-up dress shirt and jeans but his appearance that night was something that he would go to the gym in; track pants and a beater.

"Dude, what's up? I thought we were going out," John asked as Randy pulled out his phone and began texting someone.

"We are. These were the only clothes I had clean."

John stared at Randy skeptically. Randy ALWAYS had clean clothes. And if he didn't, he'd go out and buy some new ones. They walked out to Randy's rental and the whole time, Randy's attention was on his phone.

"So where exactly are we going?" John asked as he got in the car.

"Damnit!" Randy yelled as he banged the steering wheel with his fist.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Orton?"

"I have to…um…go to Wal-Mart before we go anywhere," he replied, slowly, making sure not to make eye contact with John.

"Okay. That's cool, man. You don't have to get all bent out of shape about it."

"You know I despise Wal-Mart though, Cena."

"No, you don't. You love Wal-Mart. You think that they have the best selection of your action figures."

Randy flipped his phone open when he received another text message before they pulled out of the hotel parking lot. "Not anymore."

"Why? We just went there on Monday before RAW. What's changed your mind so much in two days?"

"This…uh…old lady, she…uh…ran into me with her…her cart and she didn't even say sorry."

"What the fuck is wrong with you, man? You're acting weird as fuck!"

"What are you talking about, Cena? I'm acting completely normal."

John rolled his eyes as they continued to drive. The whole way to Wal-Mart, he noticed Randy hadn't set his phone down once. There was one point in time where Randy had managed to cross over the center line and almost caused a head-on collision.

"Orton! Watch where the fuck you're going!" John yelled, grabbing the steering wheel and jerking it back onto the right side of the road.

Randy was startled by the sudden jerk of the car and glanced over at John. "Sorry, man. I was kind of distracted."

"I can fucking tell. That's why you don't fucking text while you're driving! Who are you texting so much, anyway?"

"Um…my little brother. He's graduating this year and he's telling me all about this party he's having."

"Oh," John answered simply as they pulled into Wal-Mart's parking lot. "So what exactly are we here for?"

Randy's eyes got wide as he stepped out of the car. "Um…stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Why are you asking so many goddamn questions?" Randy snapped.

"Because you're fucking acting a fool!

Randy just shook his head as they walked into the store. To John, it seemed like Randy was walking as slow as he possibly could and John couldn't help but feel like he was getting toyed around. He followed Randy through the grocery section, the shampoo, the magazines, the men's clothing, the women's clothing even the intimate apparel section and they had finally ended up in the toys.

"Hey, look," Randy said, something catch the corner of his eye. "They got a set of action figures of me and Edge. That's awesome! I tell you, everyone hated us but we were awesome as a tag team," he told John picking up the box.

John glared at him clearly annoyed before smacking the box out of his hand. "I don't really give a shit, Randy. Can we just leave this god forsaken place and go get fucking wasted?"

Randy picked the action figures up off the floor, set it back on the shelf and nodded. He sighed before taking his phone out of his pocket and began texting again. John rolled his eyes then glanced at the aisle and saw two people he didn't expect to.

"Look Orton, there's Mickie and Maria. Girls!" John yelled to them, but not before he was ushered toward the door by Randy.

"I forgot. We have somewhere else to go, too," the younger man said in a hurried voice.

"What the fuck is your problem, Randy?" John asked him once they were out in the parking lot. "I'm getting sick and tired of this shit! You're fucking acting like you're trying to cover something up!"

Randy scoffed at the idea. "I'm not trying to cover anything up, John. I just thought that my best friend might want to get out of his hotel room and have some fun. Sorry for fucking caring."

"You call bringing me to fucking Wal-Mart fun? It's my fucking birthday, man! Something that you haven't even acknowledged yet! I don't want to spend it in fucking Wal-Mart! I'd rather spend it in my damn hotel room, drinking myself into oblivion! Some goddamn best friend you are!"

"Man, I'm trying to have some fun! Can you not be just a little bit grateful for that?"

Before Randy knew it, he was laid out on the hood of his rental car due to a right hook from the birthday boy. He blinked a couple of times in shock before standing up and walking around to the driver's side. After John got in, they drove in silence except for the incessant beeping of Randy's cell phone signaling that he had gotten a text.

As they arrived at John's hotel, Randy got out with John and walked into the lobby. "Listen, man, I'm sorry about not saying anything about your birthday. I really am. I guess I just got caught up in things."

John just shook his head and began to walk to the elevator, but was stopped by his friend.

"Cena, just let me buy you a drink, man."

John stood, considering the option for a minute before finally nodding and walking with Randy to the hotel bar, but as they reached the doors, John noticed something a little unusual. The lights were off but yet, the doors were open.

"Dude, do you think we should really go in? It looks like they're closed or something."

"Fuck that! I'm going to buy my best friend a drink on his birthday," Randy said, flipping on the switch.


John looked around the bar to see the whole RAW locker room had filled the bar, including Mickie and Maria whom they had seen at Wal-Mart. He turned to Randy who was now sporting a nice bruise on the left side of his face. "Is this why you were fucking toying with me?"

Randy just shrugged as it seemed that his best friend was swallowed by their co-workers and friends.

Later that night after several hours of partying and well-wishes, John spotted the man who had orchestrated this whole scheme, sitting by himself at the bar, nursing the left side of his face.

John smiled and excused himself from the conversation he was having with Chris Jericho and Triple H and made his way over to the bar and sat next to Randy.

"Listen, Randy," he began quietly. "I'm sorry for hitting you in the face. I was just getting frustrated as hell with this whole thing. Ya know? No one had called. No one had texted. Hell, nobody on the set even recognized that it was my birthday. I thought that at least my best friend would."

Randy shook his head and took a sip of his beer. "I should've done things differently. I just knew that I had to get you out of the hotel in order for everything to get ready down here. I couldn't take the chance of you coming down and seeing something."

"Well, Orton, I gotta say thanks, man. I should've known I could always count on you."

"No problem, John. Now, let's, as you would say, act a fool."

John laughed at his younger friend. "I think you've done enough of that. Now, it's my turn."

Okay, all. I wrote this for John's birthday and I have to say that I'm not really that happy with it. It didn't turn out as good as I had hoped but I hope you like it all the same.

Happy 31st birthday, Mr. Cena!

Keep it rockin'!