A/N: I was watching the Olympics, and…yeah. I don't want to give it away, but what I was watching had Jericho written all over it.

"Chris, why on earth are you watching this?" Lance Cade asked as he walked into the men's locker room.

"Because, Lance Cade, this is beautiful stuff," Jericho replied, his jaw dropped as he gawked at the screen. "I'm so jealous of them."

"Why are you jealous of them? Most of what they do is just flailing their arms like fish out of water. Look at that girl, Chris. She literally just danced with her arms for like two minutes," Lance noticed.

"I can do that, too, Lance Cade. Chris Jericho has studied interpretive dance while he trained for wrestling," Chris announced, standing up and balancing on one leg while extending his arms, imitating a flamingo.

"Why on earth are you pretending to be a swan?" Lance asked incredulously.

"I AM NOT A SWAN! I AM A FLAMINGO!" Jericho screeched. "Do you not see my sparkly pink outfit to match?" It was true; Jericho was donning dark blue jeans and a sparkly pink vest.

"Wait, since when did you wear sparkles again?"

"Are you defying the Messiah of the Sparkle? I wear sparkles all the time, Lance Cade."

"You haven't worn anything sparkly on television in about a month," Lance noted.

"I am magical. It is an illusion. I want you to think that I'm not wearing anything sparkly," Jericho said with an all too serious look on his face.

"Okay…So tell me again exactly why you're jealous of them?" Lance asked again.

"Well, besides their impeccable interpretive dancing skills, I must say, their outfits are fabulous. I wouldn't mind joining them. They do have fantastic taste in sparkles," Jericho stated.

Lance did a double take glance at the television. He had to make sure that he was watching the correct Olympic event. "Chris…You can't be serious."

"The Messiah of the Sparkle doesn't kid around, Lance Cade."

"But, Chris…You're watching gymnastics. Even worse, you're watching women's gymnastics."

"Are you saying that I can't do women's gymnastics?" Chris asked, overtly offended.

"Chris, you're a man."

"THE MESSIAH OF THE SPARKLE DOES NOT DISCRIMINATE AGAINST GENDER! LANCE CADE, YOU ARE A CHAUVENISTIC PIG!" Chris yelled, adding a voracious stomp of his foot at the word "pig."

Lance was at a loss for words. "I, um…You should get ready for…"

"Hey, Lance Cade, do you think they'd let me borrow one of their outfits?" Chris asked as he surveyed the sparkly red outfits with the sparkly blue star on them.

"Chris, you don't fit into your wrestling pants anymore. Do you really think that you can fit into a one piece outfit belonging to an eighteen year old with the body of a ten year old?"


"Did you forget to take your pills today?" Randy Orton asked, poking his head into the locker room. "I can hear you screaming from down the hall.

"Randy Orton, would you like to wear matching sparkly trunks tonight for our tag team match?" Jericho asked.

"No. I don't wish to wear sparkly trunks ever," Randy replied.

"Don't expect me to have your back tonight, Randy Orton."

"And don't expect me to dry your glittery tears."

Chris sighed. "Finally, someone who understands what I go through. Lance Cade, you should take notes."

Lance rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "Great, he wants me to take notes on how not to wear pants."