A/N: Yeah, I don't really know what to say about this. I was rummaging through my older magazines and this happened. When you stare at Chris Jericho for too long (and it's him after he stopped wearing pants) I don't know, inspiration, maybe, strikes? I have no clue at all. But I do think this is kind of funny.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is recognizable.

Thunder Thighs

Chris stood there, staring at the image in the mirror. He was an avid WWE Magazine reader—just to see himself, of course—and while looking through the issue where Randy Orton was the guest editor, he came across a comment that he did not appreciate very much. On the magazine's monthly calendar, there was a picture of Y2J and Randy had written that the Thigh Master would work wonders on Jericho.

What an idiot, Chris had originally thought upon seeing the comment. "He's just jealous because he wasn't the first Undisputed Champion," he had said aloud. However, Chris was now having second thoughts. He started wondering if it was possible for Orton to be right.

After putting his little wrestling trunks on, Chris inspected his legs, one body part he never used to have to worry about because he used to wear pants when he was in the ring. Now, that wasn't the case; he went for a shorter look. "Okay," he said, staring at his legs. "Maybe they're a little pudgy, but I think Randy went a little too far." He was talking to himself, which usually meant he was going crazy.

He looked just a little closer at his reflection and gasped at what he saw.

"Aah!" he screamed. "My stomach is sticking out in all kinds of directions! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh. My. God. Aah!" Chris began running in circles around the room.

When he stopped, he was standing in front of the mirror. He stared and noticed another flaw: he had stretch marks on his thighs.

"Oh, no! No! This can't be happening!" he cried. "How can this happen? I'm WWE's sexy beast! Why?" he moaned. "Why, why, why?" He fell to the floor, and his face met the carpet.

He looked up once more and all he saw was his red eyes, all fat and puffy from his crying. "I look ugly!" He got up from the floor and, through teary eyes, looked at his legs again. He turned around and couldn't believe what was taunting him through the mirror. "My butt is huge! It wasn't like this before!" Chris made an effort to get rid of the tears that were escaping his eyes by blinking them back, but it was no use. The water was running down his cheeks.

This event went on for about an hour until he got the courage to leave his room, away from the scary full-length mirror. He ran into his home office and grabbed his phone. He called a friend of his, fellow wrestler and Canadian, Christian.

A couple rings later, he answered. "Hello?"

"Jay," Chris said frantically, using Christian's real name. "You gotta come to my house. I need to talk to you."

"But we're on the phone. Can't you just talk to me right now? It would save some time, you know?" Jay suggested.

"Don't ask questions! Just come. This is an emergency at my house!" Chris shouted. "Oh, and you should bring Adam," he said, referring to Edge. Presently, he was doing everything in his power not to cry over the phone.

"Okay, okay," replied Jay. "I'll pick him up on my way there. I'll try to come as soon as possible. Hopefully, Adam doesn't have to take forever on his hair," he muttered to himself.

Chris ignored the last statement. "All right, just make it quick. Hurry!" He hung up the phone before Jay could say anything else.

He stayed upstairs. He paced back and forth in every room he went. "What's taking them so long?" he questioned after waiting, at most, twenty seconds. "They're taking way too long. I swear, if Adam had to stop at the hair salon, I'm gonna kill him when he gets here. And Jay better not stop to buy a lollipop or whatever."

While he waited for his friends to arrive, Chris was still beside himself. He didn't know what to do and he was overcome with an emotion that he hadn't felt in such a long time: sadness. No one had ever said such a hurtful thing as Randy did, and it was really eating away at Chris once he realized that he might be right.

Ten minutes later, Jay and Adam arrived at Chris's place, expecting the worst.

"Chris," Jay anxiously called. "Where are you?" He didn't need an answer. Adam spotted him. He was at the top of the stairs, sitting cross-legged.

"Hey, Chris," Adam said, worried for his friend. "What's wrong?" He and Jay cautiously made their way up the steps.

"Yeah, buddy, what happened?" Jay chimed in. "Did someone hurt you? You're not looking so good."

"You look kinda sick," Adam commented.

At those two comments, Chris began to bawl once again. What they said sent him over the edge.

Jay asked, "Chris, what's going on seriously? If you want us to help you, you gotta talk to us."

"We won't make fun of you," said Adam. "We'll take care of whatever's going on." When Chris still didn't talk, Adam said, "Come on. We're your friends. Just tell us what happened."

"Guys," Chris spoke, barely above a whisper. "It's Randy."

"Orton?" Jay and Adam demanded at the same time. They both weren't big fans of the Legend Killer so if he did something to Chris, they would finally have a valid reason to hurt him. Bad.

"What did he do?" questioned Adam. "I swear, if he hurt you—"

"I'm not a sexy beast anymore." Chris's tone was sullen, defeated.

"Randy's dead—" Jay was saying. "Wait, what?"

Adam and Jay looked at each other, quizzically. When they both fully realized what Chris had just said, they had to suppress their smiles.

"What, uh, what gave you that idea?" Adam asked, trying to keep his promise not to laugh.

"And isn't that Shawn Michaels?" Jay wondered.

"No, Shawn's a sexy boy, idiot," Adam said. "What kind of person doesn't know that HBK is the sexy boy, and Y2J is the sexy beast? Haven't you ever listened to his entrance music? What's wrong with you?"

Chris paid no attention to the banter going on between his fellow Canadians. Shawn Michaels was of no importance to him during his time of need. "Stupid Randy said that I needed a Thigh Master." Chris's voice trembled, making it seem like he might break down and cry again. "I didn't think anything at first, but then I realized that I'm…I'm…fat!" He put his face in his hands.

"Hey, Chris. Don't worry about it," Jay said soothingly. He patted Chris's back.

"Don't touch my back fat!" screamed Chris. He calmed down after a moment and said, "Sorry, I'm a little sensitive about it. Ever since I became fat, I've started being protective of it."

"Yeah, obviously," Adam muttered.

Jay shot him a stern look, but looked quickly back at Chris. "Dude, Randy's just a jerk. Don't worry about him. Who cares what he says anyway?" Now, instead of a stern look, Jay looked at Adam and mouthed, "Help me."

Chuckling to himself, Adam said, "Yeah, forget Orton. He has no idea what he's talking about. You've always been the envy of the locking room, and Randy's just jealous. Jealous of you and of your friends. You wanna know why?"

Sniffling, Chris looked up. "Why?" he asked softly. If Adam had something rude to say, he wasn't going to be held accountable for what he did to him, whether he was depressed or not.

"'Cause he doesn't reek of awesomeness like the three of us do, of course."

Chris could calm down. He knew in the back of his mind that his friends would never insult him. Not to his face, anyway. What Adam and Jay had said to him was making Chris a little happier. Slowly, his confidence was coming back. "Yeah!" he said, feeling empowered. "You guys are right. What Randy says doesn't matter to me. He's not the best in the world at what we do. No, no, that's me."

"Um…Yeah. If, uh, if you say so, Chris." Adam wasn't so sure of the 'best in the world' part, but the rest he thought was good.

"You really made my day better, guys. If you hadn't come along, I'd be depressed all day"

Jay was flattered. He loved making people's days. "You're welcome. Just glad we could help."

Chris wasn't done yet. "There is just one more thing I need to ask you."

Confused, Adam looked at Y2J and said, "Yeah, sure. What is it?" At the same time, Jay was nodding.

"Well, I was just wondering…" Chris began. He knew what the wanted to say. He was just a little unsure on how to go about asking the question. He didn't' know what kind of reaction he would get. "Do you guys still think I'm a sexy beast?" He waited patiently for their response.

Both Adam and Jay couldn't believe what they were hearing. With a confused face, Jay said, "Excuse me?"

"I asked you guys if you still think I'm a sexy beast," Chris repeated with a straight, sober face.

Jay shifted his weight, moving from side to side. "Well, I guess so. Sure," he said, feeling awkward. He had never been put in such an uncomfortable situation.

Adam felt the same way. "You're definitely still the only 'Ayatollah of Rock 'n' Rolla'," he replied.

"Aww. Thanks, guys. You really know how to make a guy feel better. Randy's nobody compared to us. So what do you wanna do now? I know! Let's go look up pictures of Randy on the Internet and make fun of him!"

Jay and Adam shared a knowing look. As much as they hated Randy, they knew what would happen if they agreed to make fun of him with Chris. Eventually, his rude, crude insults would be directed at them instead of the intended victim. And Chris was a very brutal person, who had no mercy.

"Chris, you do realize that you're just doing the same thing to Randy that he did to you," claimed Adam.

"Yeah, but—" Chris started.

"And you felt really bad about that, right?" asked Jay.

"Yes," Chris grumbled.

"So why would you make fun of him?"

"Ugh! It's not the same!" shouted Chris.

"Oh, really?" Adam challenged. "How is this gonna be any different than what Randy did to you?"

Chris had no real defense so he settled for, "Just 'cause."

Jay shook his head in disappointment. "Now, Chris, you know just as well as I do that that is not a valid reason."

Chris mumbled something unintelligible. "But he's not a jerk to you guys. He likes you. He never makes fun of you."

"Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris," Adam said. "You have no idea what you're talking about. I've been dodging his taunts for years."

"Yeah, when I was in TNA, Adam used to tell me all these horror stories about what Randy would say to him," Jay chimed in.

"See, when we were in Rated RKO, he would never shut up. He was always saying how because he was younger, everyone loved him more." Adam scoffed. "Newsflash! His fans don't have a name. I have Edgeheads."

"And I have Peeps," said Jay. He looked at Chris. "And you have…"

Chris thought for a moment. He felt that he couldn't come up with the right answer for there was too much pressure. Then, it came to him. "Oh! I have the Jerichoholics."

"That's right, Chris," Jay said. "And they're very loyal, aren't they?"

Chris nodded. "Uh-huh. They are. Well, not some, but most of them are."

"That's how my fans are. They haven't liked me in years," Adam decided to say. "Then, I beat the crap out of you and they love me."

Sticking his tongue out at Adam, Chris said, "Shut up."

"Yeah, seriously, dude. You're not helping the situation," was Jay's response, along with a slap to Adam's arm.

"These are facts," Adam stated in his defense and, to be sure, he was right.

Jay pulled him closer to him by the arm. "Cut it out," he whispered. "He's gonna start moping again if you don't shut your face."

"I'm just being honest," Adam replied, shrugging.

"Well, I think this could all go so much smoother if you kept your trap shut. So stop talking and maybe we can just get out of here."

The two men walked back over to Chris. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," Jay said, glaring at Adam, "you have better fans than Randy could ever wish for. Be thankful."

"You're right," said Chris. "My fans are awesome. Until Randy's fans have a name for themselves, they're nowhere near as great as mine."

"Okay. Can we go now?" Adam asked, impatient as ever. "I have an appointment at the salon that I really need to get to."

Glaring at Adam once again, Jay asked Chris, "You gonna be okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine now. Thanks, Jay."

Adam felt left out. "Hey! What about me? I helped, too!" Adam had never felt so indignant.

"What help were you?" Chris asked, just as indignant. "You were being a jerk. Just like Randy!"

"Dude, don't even compare me to that thing. Talk about insulting. If I'm like him, then you're like…" Edge had to think hard about this comparison. "John Cena!"

"Ah!" Chris was outraged. "Take it back!"

Adam's brilliant response was to stick his tongue out at him.

"Guys. Guys!" Jay made an attempt to calm the two down, but it wasn't working. They were in a yelling match.

"I am not like John Cena!" screamed Chris.

"Well, I'm not like Randy Orton," countered Adam. "Take it back."

"Not until you take what you said back." Chris knew he had Adam there.

Making many faces of anger, Adam finally gave up. "Oh, fine! You're not like Cena. There it's your turn."

Taken aback, for he was surprised Adam resigned so quickly, Chris quietly said, "You're not like Orton." He still couldn't believe that Adam took it back.

Jay breathed a sigh of relief. "Are we done now? Is everything good?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Chris said. "You guys can go now."

Adam exhaled loudly. "Sorry about everything, man."

"It's good. Everything's good. It was the heat of the moment, you know?"

Nodding, Adam waited for Jay to say his good-byes. After that, the two walked out the door, discussing the events of the day.

Chris turned and glanced at the mirror one last time. "Randy may say I have thunder thighs, but at least I'm not a stupid parasitic hypocrite like Adam." Then he used Adam's words from 2009 against him. "He's just a big, fat, failure turtle!"

Oh, dear lord. That was bad. That was absolutely atrocious. I'm terrified, but tell me what you think. Leave me a little review. I'm very curious.