A/N: Unexpected? You tell me.
"Chris, I'm telling you for the last freaking time! Your thighs jiggle more than Jello. And when I'm seen with you around town, I do not want to be mistaken for Bill Cosby, okay?" Randy Orton ranted as Chris Jericho checked himself out in the mirror.
"What are you talking about, Randy Orton? You have no right to speak about another man's thighs," Jericho retorted, spinning himself around to check himself out from all angles. "My thighs are not jiggly; they're buxom."
"Some people think buxom is a nice word for fat," Randy said under his breath.
"Randy Orton! My keen sense of hearing has foiled you yet again. What? Are you here to save my thighs? Are your tattoo sleeves going to mask what you call my jiggly thighs? Let me tell you, Randy Orton, that is not happening. Nope. No way, no how."
"I'm taking you to a dietitian, Chris."
"Chris Jericho does not need a dietitian! My thighs are amazing, hence my newly fashioned spankies, not unlike yours, Randy Orton. I really wish that the pot would stop calling the kettle black."
"Pot?!" The Brian Kendrick said excitedly, poking his head around the corner of the locker room.
"No, you fool," Randy said, shaking his head at the smaller man. "What are you even doing here?"
"What are any of us doing here, Randy?" Kendrick asked, pulling a lighter out of his pocket. "Care to join me? I know you're fond of this activity."
Randy shook his head at The Brian Kendrick. "I gave that up, man."
"Recent photographical evidence says otherwise."
"That's it. Chris, let's go."
Chris put his hands up in mock surrender. "Randy Orton, are you sure you'd rather waste your time taking me to this dietitian? Wouldn't you rather enjoy some novelties with this young lad? What was your name again?"
"The Brian Kendrick, you assclown."
"Hey! No stealing my words! Randy Orton, I cannot accept this. Let's get out of here," Jericho stated, storming out of the room.
"Thanks," Randy said, nodding at The Brian Kendrick.
"The Brian Kendrick with the assist!" Kendrick squealed with an enthusiastic fist pump.
"Randy, I don't know what you're talking about. He looks to be in excellent shape."
"I like you. What was your name again, sweetheart?" Chris asked, eyeing the dietitian that Randy had "forced" him to see.
"Bianca. Bianca Wade."
"Randy, can I speak to you for a moment?" the dark haired woman asked, pulling Randy aside.
"When you called and told me that he was a little...deranged, you were serious, weren't you?" Bianca asked.
"As serious as a heart attack."
"Excellent," Bianca said with a sigh. She walked back over to Chris. "Okay, so what exactly is your diet?"
"Let's see...I eat a lot of Canadian bacon," Chris nodded.
"Ham? Ham is okay..."
"Okay? You know what's okay? Admitting that you're related to a celebrity. Dwyane Wade is your dad, isn't he?" Chris asked.
"No, Chris, I am not related to an NBA player, nor have I ever been to Miami," Bianca stated, writing notes on her clipboard.
Randy let out a chuckle.
"So you're his sister?"
Bianca gave Randy a stern look. "What the heck did you bring to me, Randy?"
"Enter my world."
"So are you his sister? Because if you are his sister, wouldn't you be rich? Gosh, Dwyane is such a horrible brother. He should take care of his family and not make a nice girl like you slave away like this. If you were my sister, I'd take care of you. I'd be a nice brother. You should report your brother to social services."
Bianca nodded and set her clipboard on her desk. "Chris, I'm going to set you on a diet, okay?"
"Does it include Canadian bacon, Miss Wade?" Jericho asked, hopefully.
"No. I'm going to put you on a diet away from people. I suggest going away. Far away. You need some time to sit and rest. Did you know that thinking is good exercise for your brain? It may not shrink your thighs, but..."
"Hey! I thought you said I was in excellent shape!" Chris whined, stomping his foot.
"Yeah, your body is in excellent shape, but your mind really isn't. Honey, you need more help than I could ever give you."
"Yes!" Randy said, clapping his hands together.
"What's your deal, Randy Orton?" Chris asked.
"An outside opinion! I'm right! I'm right!" Randy said, doing a little happy dance.
"I'm sick of you, Randy Orton. Ever since you teamed with Edge, you've been so...so...Cocky! And you know what? You're not even Canadian. We all know that it should have been Rated Y2J!"
Randy stopped dancing. "Bianca, do you have a phone book I can use?"
"I'm already one step ahead of you," she said. She already had the book open and was looking for psychologist for Chris.
"Being a celebrity's sister really gets to some people's heads..." Chris sighed.