A/N- This is fairly short. Shorter than I normally write. But watching Jericho walk out at the beginning of Raw just begged me to write this. I'm sorry if it sucks. I quickly jotted it down in about fifteen minutes.
"I held it, I kissed it, and I paraded it around for you. I am NOT polishing it."
"But I thought we were like Layla and Noble, anything I ask you will do?"
"No, not at all. Never make that comparison again."
"But Coooooody! Someone has to shine up by newly won belt." Chris pleads.
"Then go hire someone to do it. I am not your lacky." Cody sets him straight.
"There is sweat on it. It's need polished off." Chris informs him.
"Then go wet a paper towel, and wipe it off." Cody suggests. Chris just stared at him for a minute, almost in shock.
"Cody, before I get mad and lose my temper, and ultimately kick your ass, go get your tag while I sit here with my World Heavyweight belt." Chris says, stressing the word tag. Sighing, Cody got up from his position on he couch and retrieved his belt. He knew where this was going. He knew it would happen even since word spread Chris was winning the title.
"Now, look at this big, shiny, heavy title, and lets compare it to your small, dull, light title." Chris says, holding both belts up in his hands.
"Okay, I'm looking." Cody hoped he would just hurry up and get this over with.
"Now, if your title had a drop of sweat on it, you could simply wipe it with your shirt. I, however, am unable to do that. Care to tell me why Cody?"
"Because your belt is so big, that your shirt couldn't possibly cover all of it, which is why you need it polished." That line sounded rehearsed, and very monotone. Neither of which Chris picked up.
"And the boys say you are slow in the head. Now, go get the polisher out of my bag, and get to it. I need it ready for the beginning of Raw." Chris instructs. With another heavy sigh, Cody once again got up off the couch.
"So what are going to do about Punk and Batista? You know they are going to come after you for the title." Cody says, gently rubbing the cloth over Chris's belt.
"No worries. Mr. Ass and Mr. Clown are in fear of me. Neither will step within one hundred feet of me. For if they do, they know what will happen."
"And that would be what exactly?" There was no way Chris could take on Batista. Punk yes, Batista no.
"Tell Adamle, so he denies any title shot those two asswipes want in the future." Yeah, that sounded like something Chris would do.
"I figured as much. How's your arm since Shawn gave you the beating of life time?" Cody smiled to himself, unseen by Chris. Cody knew this would edge him on.
"Okay. Okay. I'll let it go. I'm in a good mood. I'm the current champion. You're nothing. No need to lose my cool over the likes of you, a nobody." To anybody else, that would have upset, or hurt their feelings. Not Cody, he was used to it.
"Hey, I won my match." Cody says, adding insult to injury. Chris was bound to lose it.
"Well, I became Champion." Was the clever comeback.
"Yeah, with the help of fiver other men. I mean, you basically stole the win. You don't deserve to be champion." Well that did it.
"THAT WAS A FAIR MATCH. I WON BY MYSELF. AT LEAST I DIDN'T HAVE INTERFERENCE IN MY MATCH LIKE YOU DID YOU WORTHLESS USE OF TALENT." Chris continued, but Cody tuned him out, he was enjoying the outburst.
"So I do have talent?" Cody asks, once Chris took a moment to breathe.
"No. I'm saying you shouldn't even be a tag champion. You shouldn't even be on the main roster. You shouldn't even be a wrestler. Just go resign now. Quit. Retire. You'll never make it in this business. I'd be embarrassed to be in the same ring as you" Chris rants. A knock on the door sound through the room, and a stage hand poked his head through the door.
"You need a tag partner tonight Chris, you get to pick. Be ready in twenty/." Was all he said and closed the door.
"Let's go, we got a match to win." Chris said, grabbing his belt and leading Cody and himself to gorilla.