Later in the evening, I’ve made myself nice and comfy, watching the show. Benoit, well, you know him, he’s just standing there, staring stone-faced at the monitor.
      “Hey, Benoit, why don’t you sit and take a load off? I’m the one who’s most likely in trouble and I’m sitting here all relaxed,” I tell him.
      He shakes his head. “McMahon’s been too quiet.”
      I smirk. “You’re a man of many words,” I quip, then pause. “Hey, I’m positive Vince is cooking up some scheme to get revenge on me for ruining his precious storyline. Now, I’m just waiting for him to spring it.”
      “I just don’t like it,” Benoit says, monotone as always. But that’s what I like about the guy: he offsets me. He’s all business, while I’m… well, we all know what I, Chris Jericho, am like.
      “Fine,” I say, giving up. It’s no use anyway. I turn back to the monitor in time to see Vince, Stephanie, and Paul in the ring. I lean forward. “Here we go, now this is more like it.”
      “Jericho!” Vince says, his voice at is usual gravelly best. “Get your ass out here *NOW*!”
      “You think he’s mad at me?” I ask, smirking, but Benoit ignores me.
      “Harsh,” he comments.
      I roll my eyes and stand. “Yeah, like that group scares me. Listen, if for some reason I get jumped or something stupid like that, find the Hardyz and retrieve my carcass, alright?”
      Benoit gives me, again, what passes as a smile for him. “Wouldn’t you prefer I find them *before* they pick you clean?”
      I groan. “Don’t attempt humor, please. You be serious, I’ll be funny.” I head for the door.
      “When have *you* ever been funny?” Benoit asks.
      “I’ll be back, hopefully on my own accord,” I say, then close the door.
      On my way out to the main arena, I can still hear Vince calling me out. And, of course, there’s the occasional superstar standing in the wing, giving me odd glares as I pass them.
      Finally, I reach the curtain and my countdown begins. The lights go out, the fireworks go off, and I’m now standing at the top of the ramp and the crowd is going absolutely insane. So, naturally, I stay at the top and milk it for all it’s worth. After all, it’s been a while since I received a pop (besides earlier tonight).
      “So, you finally decided to grace us with your presence, huh, Jericho? Well…” Vince began.
      And, I interrupt. “I’ve been waiting a long time to say this, but… Welcome to… Raw… is… Jericho!” Another loud pop. “Well, Vance, I guess I sort of screwed up some plans of yours. Like, for example, killing any chance for me to be a good champion again by sticking me with that two-cent, brutal, slut you call a daughter!” Yet another loud pop, I love it! “Or ruining my image by turning me into a raving egomaniac rather than my usual charming self.” Another excellent pop.
      “Jericho, come down to this ring and say all that!” Stephanie cries out, piercing everyone’s ears.
      “Oh, Stephie-baby, you miss me that bad already? I didn’t know you loved me that much! Why didn’t you just say you wanted a *piece* of Y2J?” Huge pop for that one. “Not that I’d give you anything, of course. Your rates are too low for my standards. Hell, you make sluts that are a dime a dozen look good!” Another great pop.
      “Jericho, get your ass in this ring now, so I can beat the living *bleep-shit* out of you!” Paul yells.
      “No, I don’t think I’ll give you that satisfaction, Trips. Besides, you should be used to no satisfaction considering Stephie-baby was never capable of giving you any!” Listen to that pop!
      Now, Stephanie’s trying to “hold back” Trips. That’s some good acting, Paul. Vince looks about ready to explode… and that’s about the time I forget what happens next because everything goes dark.

      Sometime later, I return to the land of the living just in time to hear:
      “Hey, guys, he’s alive!” Amy.
      I open my eyes and try to focus. She’s leaning over me.
      “How many fingers am I holding up?” she asks.
      “Eleven?” I quip.
      “He’s fine,” Amy says, then turns away.
      Benoit takes her place. “I did like you said.”
      I blink. “What *was* that that ran me over, anyway?”
      “The Dudleyz,” Matt answers. He and Jeff are standing on the other side of where I’m, apparently, laying.
      “Of course, then Vince and Paul took cheap shots at you,” Jeff added.
      “Jeff,” Matt says, glaring at his brother.
      “What?” Jeff asks, looking confused.
      I groan. “No! No Steve Assclown impersonations! I can’t take it!”
      “You’re right, Amy, he is okay,” Benoit comments.
      “Of course, I am! I only got run over, that’s all,” I say, sitting up oh-so-slowly, careful not to make the room spin.
      “As long as you’re conscious, Chris,” Amy says, “that’s what matters.”
      “Thank you,” I say, “and thanks to the rest of you, too, for the back up.”
      “No problem,” Matt says and Jeff nods his agreement.
      “You owe me,” Benoit says.
      I look at him. “Well, whadaya want, then?”
      “You know damn-well what I want. I want those tag titles,” Benoit replies.
      “Now, *that* I can live with,” I say.

      Tuesday, SmackDown taping.
      My locker room is packed… or about as packed as five people could make a room. We’re all staring at the monitor… er, well, actually, I’m a little busy staring at the floor, trying to balance the ice pack on my head.
      “There goes trouble… it’s Stephanie,” Amy says.
      I wave at Amy. “Better turn the volume down before the Princess shatters all the glass in this room.” She turns the volume down a few notches.
      Stephanie enters the ring with a huge smile plastered on her face and asks for a mic. “Monday night was quite possibly the best night of my life! Why, you ask…” She pauses.
      “She doesn’t have to pay for her voice lessons anymore?” I ask, to no one in particular.
      “Because Chris Jericho got his ass *kicked*!” she finishes.
      “I think she was a little too overjoyed in saying that,” Matt comments.
      “I think she knows I’m not supposed to be wrestling tonight, considering yesterday was Monday,” I say.
      “Not supposed to be?” Benoit asks. “What’re you thinking, Irvine?”
      “Me?” I ask, as innocently as possible. “I’m just going to cut a promo and cost Paul his match, that’s all.”
      “But, Chris, they know you’ll be an easy target,” Jeff argues.
      “Yeah, I know that, but…” I begin.
      Only to be cut off by Amy, “*But* nothing! This is all starting to become just a little too personal. Just because you’re taking liberties on the script doesn’t mean that Paul won’t. Besides, before he was on the shelf, when he had his trusty sledgehammer, did he not really injure you?”
      Great, now they’re all glaring at me. “Well, yeah, he did, but…”
      “You’re staying here. Y2J can stand one night *out* of the lime light,” Amy argues.
      “…Come on, Jericho, we haven’t got all night,” Stephanie calls out.
      “I can’t just not show, she’s calling me out!” I argue back.
      “And it’s a trap, Irvine. Get it through your thick skull and huge ego,” Benoit says, then adds, “I’ll go out there. They won’t be expecting the Rabid Wolverine.” He leaves.
      Amy smirks. “I guess he told you.” I frown. She turns to the Hardyz. “Maybe you guys could keep an eye on Benoit, just in case. I can keep an eye on Chris.” Two-thirds of Team Xtreme leave and Amy turns back to me. “See, it’s not that tough.”
      “You’re killing me, Red,” I say.
      “I know,” she returns. We turn back to the monitor in time to see Benoit enter the ring, mic in hand.
      Stephanie has her patented smirk going. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I not make myself clear as to *which* Chris I was calling out?”
      “Crystal clear, Stephanie,” says the man of few words… most of the time.
      “So, Jericho’s yellow, then?” the Princess asks.
      I start to stand up, but Amy pushes me back down.
      “No,” Benoit answers simply.
      Stephanie puts on a fake pout. “Awe, is the Undisputed Champ too high and mighty and unconscious to come out and sling his insults at me?” She grins.
      “No,” Benoit--again--answers simply.
      Now, she’s getting mad. “Then why are you out here instead of him!?”
      Benoit moves closer and practically looms over her. “Because I *wanted* to come out here.”
      …And that’s about when Trips jumps the barricade and slides into the ring. Damn, why is he still getting a huge pop? There go the Hardyz now. I *really* wish I could go out there.
      “You’re not going out there, Chris,” Amy says, Not another person reading my mind! First, Adam, now Amy.
      “Fine…” I agree, then see the Dudleyz run to the ring. This time I actually get to stand up.
      “Oh no,” Amy groans.
      Of course, I notice she’s momentarily distracted, so I take the opportunity and run out, heading for the ring. I practically dive through the curtains, but when I get to the ring, the only ones left standing are Trips and the Dudleyz. Why didn’t I have sense enough to listen to Amy?
      “Well, well, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence,” Stephanie says, smirking again.
      Immediately, Trips and the Dudleyz leave the ring and chase me up the ramp and back through the curtains. Thinking that this was just for show--and seeing no cameras around--I stop to catch my breath. Trips and the Dudleyz plow through the curtains and head straight for me.
      “Oh, shit,” I whisper, just before I’m attacked from all sides, backed against the wall.
      Maybe after two or three minutes, someone shows up wielding a steel chair. From my (disad-) vantage point, I see it’s Adam, then everything goes black (again!)… but only momentarily because Adams comes over and starts slapping my face to wake me.
      “Chris?” he asks, as refs and security haul away the three trouble makers.
      Amy joins Adam. “I knew it.” She shakes her head disappointedly.
      “Help me wake him up,” Adam says.
      Once again returning to consciousness, I subconsciously flail about a bit and they each grab one of my arms. I try to focus on them, but all I’m getting is double.
      “Chris?” Amy asks. “I know it’s a stupid question, but are you okay?”
      “Ugh,” I groan, now feeling nauseau. I shake my head lightly, “No.”