A/N- I was so bored during Smackdown, that I had to write something. That something turned out horrible, but I'll post anything. This really didn't go how I wanted at all. I wrote this for the most part to amuse myself. Yes, SD was that bad.
One hour, seventeen minutes, and thirty four seconds. One hour, seventeen minutes, and thirty three seconds. One hour, seventeen minutes, and thirty two seconds. One hour, seventeen minutes, and thirty one minutes.
There was nothing Ted would rather be doing then counting down the time until he could leave the arena. No, until he could leave the presence of Chris Jericho, who has been talking non stop for the past two hours.
"Theodore, I was thinking that after I get done kicking ass in my match tonight, that you, myself, and that undeserving Lance Cade could all do dinner together." Chris suggested, putting the last of his new pictures that he had professionally taken of his belt an him, in his photo album.
"I don't know man, but how did you get that belt to shine like that in that picture?" Ted asks, pointing to one of the photos.
"Cody shined it for a good hour, and I had the monkey they called a photographer have a light shine at the perfect angle."
"It turned out go..."
"I mean, I practically took the photos myself. Within an hour, I realized that not only am I the greatest wrestler alive, the greatest rock artist alive, the greatest author alive, but also the greatest photographer alive."
"I wouldn't say the..."
"It all just comes natural, I've had training for none of it."
"What about being trained in Stu Hart's dungeon?" Ted asks, finally able to complete a sentence.
"The real question Theodore is, did I train Stu Hart?"
"Stu was like seventy when you were there." Ted points out. He was confused. How could Chris have trained Stu?
"Stu was a wrestler back in his day, but I made him a hundred times better." Chris clarifies.
"I see. That makes sense."
"See Theodore, I am basically Godzilla."
"Godzilla? You mean like Tyrannosaurus Rex?" Ted asks. He was genuinely interested in this conversation.
"No you idiot. Godzilla. He ruled the land. Nothing was bigger or better than him. Now, when people think Godzilla, they think Chris Jericho."
"I don't know Chris. I usually think of you when I see a Ken doll." Ted regretted what he said, he was sure Chris was going to be pissed.
"I guess I do have the hair, the glamor, the body, the walk, the smile, and girls love to play with me." Chris says, now admiring himself in the mirror. Chris wasn't so bad when he wasn't listing all his compliments. That was the closest thing to a conversation Ted ever had with him.
"So who's your match with tonight?" Ted decided to test his luck, and see how far he could take this conversation.
"Some undeserving chump."
"Like I should be wrestling people like Andre the Giant, Ricky Steamboat, Ric Flair, Hogan, Piper, and Sting." Chris says, still not answering the original question.
"But three are retired, ones dead, and the other works for another company." Ted reminds him.
"Trust me Theodore, they'd come out of retirement to wrestle me."
"So anyway, who are you wrestling tonight?" Ted asks again.
"A dull, talentless, robotic man, who goes by Shawn Michaels."
"Are you kidding? Michaels is one of the greatest wrestlers there is, in the world." Ted expresses. He grew up idolizing Shawn, how can Chris say he sucks?
"Exactly Theodore, one of the best. I am THE best, so I should only be wrestling THE best." Chris explains. Ted was so stupid. Cody never asked these questions. He always understood.
Why the hell did Cody decide to take his new bride on a two week vacation, Chris would never know. Why Cody would want to leave Chris for that long, Chris didn't know either. All he knew, was that Ted understood nothing about his life, and he needed Cody to make him feel better.
"Oh, well. You go prepare for that match. I'm going to talk to Randy for awhile." Ted said. He was officially tired of hearing Chris talk nonsense.
"I don't think so Junior. You're going to stay here and take notes on my match." Chris instructs.
"Theodore, you expect to much out of me. I'm only going to be the greatest wrestler for about another fifty years, before I'm forced to retire. If you're going to take over, you need my moves."
"How can you wrestle when you're eighty ei..."
"Stop asking questions. Go find Lance Cade, get me some water, and find a sketch artist to sketch me kicking the Heart Break Chump's ass."
One hour, three minutes, fourteen seconds. One hour, three minutes, thirteen seconds. One hour, three minutes, twelve seconds. One hour, three minutes, eleven seconds.
Ted took his eyes off the clock when a thought struck him.
Where was he going to find a sketch artist in One hour, three minutes, and ten seconds?