A/N: My roommate who you are probably familiar with (I'm Miss World) and I were watching SmackDown today and I don't remember how it started, but this idea came up. Warning: total crack fic.

Drew McIntyre was preparing for his tag team match with DASHING Cody Rhodes against Matt Hardy and Christian in the locker room of the SmackDown arena. He was dressed in his wrestling gear, which consisted of his white boots and trunks with a blue X in the middle of each garment. His hair was properly moussed down and held back in a long ponytail at the base of his neck, not a hair out of place. He was a lion on the prowl. Only one thing was missing...

"Hey, you ready?" DASHING Cody Rhodes called once he was done quadruple-checking himself out in the mirror. It was the "look before the look", as DASHING Cody Rhodes often referred to it: he checked himself out first in the mirror, and did another look in his digital mirror on the Titantron. The second look rarely disappointed him.

"Almost," Drew answered in his Scottish drawl. "Something is missing..."

"What? How is something missing? Drew, that's the same gear you've been wearing. Alright, let's do a quick run-through. Boots? Check. Trunks? Check, thank god. Pads? Check. Great, you're all clothed. Let's go."

"Alright," Drew sighed, turning around to face DASHING Cody Rhodes. "THAT'S IT!"

"What? What's it?" DASHING Cody Rhodes asked in shock.

"Your jacket!"

"I'm all for team unity, but you are not wearing my jacket, and you're not borrowing my backup," explained DASHING Cody Rhodes, shaking his head.

"Good lord, sir, I am not asking to borrow your sweat infested running jacket!"

"Well then what are you talking about?"

"My vest. I am missing my long, exquisite vest," Drew proclaimed regally.

All of a sudden, the lights went out in the locker room. A small light in the corner of the room flickered once shortly, then once again extinguished. A green light started glowing from the other side of the closed door. Smoke seeped through the small crack. An eerie hollow tune faintly began playing, slowly increasing in volume with each breath the two young Superstars took. The door creaked open and a pace that was comparable to a turtle crawling in the sand. The Druids entered, carrying the large wooden coffin of the Undertaker. They placed the receptacle of eternal life in the middle of the floor.

"What is with this?" Drew asked, giving DASHING Cody Rhodes a look of sheer and utter confusion.

"I don't know. It's not like we yelled Beetlejuice three times or something."

The Deadman himself slowly raised the top of his coffin, allowing it to slam against the side after it was completely open. He stood up and lifted his hands menacingly.

"Drew McIntyre," he commanded, "I heard you discussing your intent to wear your vest tonight. I demand that you will not wear your vest."

"What? Why not?"

"I have returned to the WWE ring, Drew McIntyre. I have long forgotten my hat. I will be wearing my new vest jacket, not unlike yours. I forbid you to wear it any longer. It is too similar to my coat of undead souls," Undertaker explained.

"I had my vest first, Deadman," Drew spat, walking over to his duffel bag in order to grab his long blue vest.

"I promise you, Drew McIntyre, that if you subject your unnecessarily garment to me, you will go unscathed in my war against my little brother, Kane."

"Let me ask you something, sir," Drew suggested. "I was born with the luxury to never worry about ghastly chest hair. How come you come back clean shaven, and CM Punk is finally allowed to cleanse our eyes from that dreaded little afro on his torso?"

"I LOVE your use of adjectives!" DASHING Cody Rhodes whooped from the corner. He had found that the green gleam in the room brought out his eyes in an even more dashing way, and he was preoccupied with the tiny mirror on the wall. He wasn't paying attention to the encounter with his eyes, but he was listening.

"Remember what happened to Brooke Adams when she wore furry boots like Melina? Well, let me tell you, Drew McIntyre, that fate is not half as bad as what will happen to you if you do not surrender your vest to the dead."

"Sir, she has a job with TNA right now following around Eric Bischoff...OH! OH NO DEADMAN! PLEASE SIR! DO NOT SUBJECT ME TO SUCH TORTURE! Here. Here you go. My vest is now your vest. Feel free to cut it up and use it to adorn your lovely choice in wardrobe," Drew babbled. He got down on his knees and bowed to the Undertaker, offering his cherished vest as an offering to the legend in front of him.

"I grant you an easy victory against Kaval very soon," Undertaker said, rewarding Drew for his sacrifice.

As quickly as he entered, he left.

Fifteen minutes later, the Undertaker was gone.