From WorldWrestlingInsanity.com
Tales From The Insanity Universe: The New Year's Misadventures of Sheamus
By Mike Johns
Jan 3, 2010 - 8:39 AM
New Year’s Day. In Cameron, North Carolina, a gathering of superstars lie wasted and hung over at the house of one Matthew Hardy, who, in typical fashion, hosted what may just have been the greatest house party in the history of house parties. In the living room, Shannon Moore is passed out over a Rock Band drumset, while Greg Helms sleeps with a guitar controller in one hand, and Velvet Sky’s breast in the other. Out on Matt’s back patio lies Evan Bourne and Yoshi Tatsu amid broken tables and empty bottles, while Michael Hayes and some young girl claiming to be a Von Erich seem to be grinding in their sleep. Somehow, Hornswoggle is hanging from the roof, covered in pieces of what one would assume used to be Matt Hardy’s Christmas tree, and Tony Schivone, who took a wrong turn and ended up here for some reason, continues to commentate drunkenly about what may have just been the greatest house party in the history of all house parties.
Inside, a pale white Irishman stands among the drunken, unconscious bodies. This man is your new WWE Champion, a man they call Sheamus…
“F*cking lightweights!” he shouted. “You call this drinkin’? Hell, I out-drank the lot of ya, and I’m still standing!”
Over by a fish tank littered with empty beer cans, a charismatic young man attempts to pull himself off the floor. This man is the former WWE Champion, John Cena.
“Dear God, man! Why you gotta shout?” John said to the drunken, angry Sheamus. “I’m drunk, not dead,” said the stumbling spokesman. As Cena made it to his feet, he took one step and fell flat onto his face, landing just inches from Sheamus’ feet.
“You’re pathetic,” Sheamus said. “You can’t put me through a table, and you can’t drink me under one, either! Why don’t you sip some ginger ale with the wee ladies playing the Rock Band in the other room?” Cena tries to lift his head to respond, but does not succeed, and slips quickly into unconsciousness.
Looking around at the littered bodies of WWE Superstars and TNA Talent, Sheamus scours the house, looking for one soul who’s managed to hold their alcohol as well as he has. Making his way upstairs, Sheamus trips over the body of Drew McIntyre, barely conscious, holding a near-empty bottle of scotch, mumbling to himself.
“You got to be kidding me,” Sheamus shouted, disgusted by the sight. “You’re a Scotsman, for Christ’s Sake! Don’t they teach you how to drink in that sh*t-hole country of yours?”
“Shite ‘ole?” Drew responded, vaguely aware that his homeland had been insulted. “Who’s callin’ Scotland a shite ‘ole?”
“I am, you bloody dress-wearin’ vagina!” Sheamus responded.
Drew, finally opening his eyes enough to make out the image of Sheamus standing over him, replies, “Oh, look. It’s Casper the f*cking ghost! I’m so scared!”
“Ghost, ye say? Well, I’m the WWE Champion, and…” Sheamus began.
“Oh, will you just shut your trap already, Sheamus? Nobody cares!” Drew interrupted. “Have a drink and go jerk one off or something.” Before Sheamus could respond, Drew drifted back to sleep, mumbling to himself, “… goddamned Irish bastard, screaming like a banshee at all hours of the morning.”
Frustrated, Sheamus made his way upstairs, continuing his search for someone, anyone, who’s managed to hold their alcohol. Passing by an open bedroom door, Sheamus overhears the voices of Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase. Curious, Sheamus stops and listens to the conversation.
“Look man,” Cody said, “it didn’t mean anything, okay? We just had too much to drink, and things got out of hand, all right? Let’s just forget this ever happened, okay?”
“How can you expect me to forget, Cody? You think something like this just happens, and then you’re supposed to go on, pretending like nothing ever happened for the rest of your life? It doesn’t work that way, Cody!” Ted replied. “They’re all going to find out, you know. We can’t just hide this.”
“Sure we can,” Cody said to Ted. “I mean, really, how is anyone going to even know? Everyone here’s as wasted as Ric Flair’s bank account after a divorce settlement!”
“Dude, that’s low,” Ted said.
“Says the man who just starred in his own Straight-to-DVD action movie sequel,” Cody replied. “Now put your pants back on and let’s get out of here!”
After hearing the words, ‘put your pants back on,’ Sheamus could no longer stand outside this door and wonder. He honestly had to know, and through the opened door he went, finding a fully dressed Cody Rhodes tying his shoes, and Ted DiBiase in his underwear, scurrying around for his pants.
“So, you two finally went for the big plunge, did you now?” Sheamus announced. “You know, it’s about time you two just went and did it. It’s a modern world, after all, and if the two of you are in love…”
“Whoa, hold it!” Ted shouted, dropping the jeans he had just picked up off the floor. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the two of you, finally coming out of the closet and admitting you’re hot for each other… or however these things go,” Sheamus replied.
“Wait, you think we just…” Cody said, realizing what Sheamus was saying here.
“Dude, we’re not gay,” Ted asserted. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
“It’s all right, boys! Nobody’s judging you here!” Sheamus reassured.
“We’re not gay, Sheamus! And we didn’t just have sex, okay?” Cody added. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
“Then what the hell did you two do in here that you’re so ashamed of?” Sheamus asked.
Just then, a large, powerful black woman poked her head into the bedroom and said, “Hey, bitch boys! When I tell you to move your ass, I mean, ‘move your ass’, not ‘stand around rehearsing Seinfeld dialog with some dumbass redhead’!” Sheamus looked over and recognized the woman immediately.
“Awesome Kong?” Sheamus said.
“Yeah, and what’s it to you, Red?” Kong replied. Ted quickly puts his pants on as Kong eyes down the WWE Champion.
“You talk,” Sheamus said, dumbfounded by the fact that TNA’s Monster Knockout was capable of normal speech.
“Of course I do,” Kong replied. Looking to Cody and Ted, she raised her voice and shouted, “And I also whip the sh*t out of little boys who make me run late!”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Cody said, gathering the last of his belongings before leaving the room, followed shortly by Ted. As Ted passes, Kong makes it a point to slap Ted on the ass, almost as if she were marking her territory. She smiles as she watches her two new boy toys scurry down the stairs, then takes one last look at Sheamus.
“You know, for a pale boy, you’re pretty ripped. You ever think of shaving off that thing you call a beard and hooking up with a real woman?” Kong said.
“You know, I would,” Sheamus stammered, “but, um… Vince McMahon, he’s not too keen on his champions hooking up with the competition, and…”
“Doesn’t seem to stop the Hurricane from chatting up Velvet Sky,” Kong said, moving in on the Irishman.
“Yeah, but he’s not the WWE Champion… he’s the Hurricane,” Sheamus said, attempting to quickly think his way out of this situation. “And, besides, you don’t want to be late for… whatever it is you didn’t want to be late for.”
“Oh, that? That’s just a game I play with them. I say jump, they ask, ‘how high’. You know, control and domination. That sort of thing,” Kong said, moving closer to Sheamus. “You, on the other hand. You might just be big enough to satisfy, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, I bet I do,” Sheamus said, backing away from Kong, growing more and more uncomfortable with this situation. “But… um…”
“But what?” Kong asked. “You’re not gay or anything, are you, big man?”
“Gay?! I’m not…” Sheamus responded. As the word left his lips, the perfect out became clear. “I mean, yes. Yes. I am gay.” The disappointed look on Kong’s face made it clear to Sheamus that his ruse was working.
“Oh…” Kong sighed. “Well, I’m sure the right man is just around the corner.” With that, Kong left the room. On her way out, Sheamus overheard her say to herself, “I should have known a boy that well built was playing for the other team… not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
Sheamus took a moment to compose himself. He considered himself lucky. Had anyone else been in that room, his pride would have never allowed himself to lie about his sexuality long enough to scare Kong off, and even the strongest of men would have a hard time fending off someone as powerful as Kong. Once Sheamus took a moment for himself, he left the room, found Drew McIntyre still passed out on the stairs with his near-empty bottle of scotch, and took the bottle for himself.
Once Sheamus downed the remainder of the bottle, he threw it down and shattered the glass. He was starting to feel like himself again. Unfortunately, his buzz was starting to wear off, and it was very likely that the scotch he just swiped from Drew McIntyre was the last bit of alcohol in the house. Sheamus had already checked the fridge downstairs, as well as the cooler in the garage. All the kegs had been tapped hours beforehand, and every bottle of liquor he came across was empty. It seemed that, for the first time since Matt Hardy turned 21, his house was completely dry. It was apparent to Sheamus that he was going to have to make some sort of beer run if he intended to keep drinking. Unfortunately, his car was blocked in, and he didn’t know whose car it was that was parked behind his. And, even then, it seemed that he was the only one in the house still awake.
Well, him, and those two having sex in the downstairs closet. He knew, because he kept hearing a girl scream, “Oh, Captain, my Captain” every few minutes.
As Sheamus explored the upstairs level of Matt Hardy’s home, he came across another open bedroom door. Looking in, he saw young, athletic blonde asleep on the bed. He walked into to take a closer look at the young beauty, wearing tight jeans and a white t-shirt, lying on her side with her hair in her face. As he approached the bed, she rolled over, and as the hair fell away from her face, he finally recognized her – Taylor Wilde. Looking around, Sheamus found himself in an interesting situation. Young, attractive girl, passed out, alone in bed. No one else is around, or awake, just Sheamus, and this stunning, gorgeous blonde, who may have had just a bit too much to drink. Sheamus makes his way over to the door and shuts it gently. He then takes off his shoes and his belt, then lays down next to Taylor. He just looks at her for a while, and plays with her hair a little. A few minutes later, Taylor rolls over and stops face to face with Sheamus.
“Hey, love,” he said to her.
Taylor, still asleep, responds with a barely audible, incoherent sound that, had she actually been awake, may have almost resembled a word.
“It’s all right,” he said to her. “I’m not in any hurry. Think I’m just going to get a bit of shut-eye me-self, if you don’t mind…” He waits for a response. “Oh yeah, you’re asleep.” With that, Sheamus closes his eyes. “I could probably do anything to you right now, and you wouldn’t even know it. Lucky for you, I’m a gentleman…”
With those words, Taylor’s eyes popped wide open, and saw this pale, well-built, red-haired Irishman lying next to her in bed.
“MATT!!!” Taylor screamed, loud enough to shake Sheamus awake and right off of the bed. Matt Hardy busts in through the door to see Taylor, sitting up and freaking out while Sheamus struggled to get back to his feet.
“What’s going on?” Matt asked.
“One of your dumbass friends tried to rape me in my sleep!” Taylor screamed.
“Again?” Matt replied, implying this has happened before.
“Whoa, I was just lying here next to her,” Sheamus defended. “I barely touched her!”
“Sheamus?” Matt asked, “What are you doing here? I didn’t invite you… did I?”
For some reason, Jeff Hardy was walking by and said to Matt, “Oh, sorry Matt. I invited him. Hope that’s cool.”
“Wait…” Matt said to Jeff, grabbing him before Jeff could get away, “How the hell do you know Sheamus?”
“Oh…” Jeff said, “I don’t know him. He’s just new to WWE. I figured it’d be cool to invite some of the new guys, let them get to know people, you know? I invited him, Drew McIntyre, that Japanese dude that’s been hanging out with Christian… I thought it was cool. Sorry Matt.”
“Damn it, Jeff!” Matt said. “Didn’t I tell you not to go and invite a bunch of people we don’t know? Every time you go and invite some newbie because you feel bad for them or whatever, sh*t like this happens. I mean, seriously, Jeff, do you even listen to me when I talk?”
“I said I was sorry, Matt,” Jeff replied.
“Sorry’s not going to mean a damn thing when Taylor’s knocked up with some redheaded bastard’s kid, Jeff!” Matt ranted.
“Hey,” Sheamus objected. “I’m right here, Matt. If you don’t like me, that’s fine, but at least have the courtesy of not calling me a bastard to me face! Unless, of course, you want me to kick your head all the way back to Ireland.”
“SHUT UP, SHEAMUS!!!” Matt and Jeff screamed.
“Look, Matt, I’m sorry, okay? I was trying to be nice, help people make friends,” Jeff explained.
“Jeff, do you even watch WWE anymore? I mean, I know you’re all busy trying to keep your ass out of jail and all, but I would think you’ve have taken a couple of minutes to at least watch WWE before you start randomly inviting new guys thinking they’re cool. I mean, seriously, Drew McIntyre? You do know he’s all buddy-buddy with Vince, right? And Sheamus? He’s just an a$$hole!”
“Hey!” Sheamus objected.
“SHUT UP, SHEAMUS!!!” Matt and Jeff screamed.
“Come on, Jeff! You inviting these two morons would be like me inviting CM Punk to your birthday party,” Matt said.
“CM Punk?” Taylor interjected. “Is he the guy with the tattoos marching outside of your house with picket signs?”
“What?!” Matt said, dashing towards the bedroom window. Looking outside, Matt saw CM Punk with a megaphone in hand, barking his philosophy to anyone who would listen, while Luke Gallows marched behind him, holding picket signs advocating the Straight Edge Lifestyle.
“For far too long now,” CM Punk began, “the youth of America have looked up to weak, pathetic losers like Matt and Jeff Hardy. Drug Addicts and Alcoholics who couldn’t curb their addictions long enough to save themselves from abject failure.” As Punk’s speech continued, Jeff, Taylor, and Sheamus gathered around the window as well. “And now, on this most hallowed of Holidays, the beginning of a New Year, Matt Hardy has the audacity to host this celebration of overindulgence and promiscuity. I even have in on good authority that, at this very moment right now, the WWE Champion, Sheamus, a proud alcoholic, just forced himself on Taylor Wilde, a former TNA Knockouts Champion, who may or may not be a drunken, raging HO who brought it upon herself by drinking herself into a coma and wearing tight jeans that show off her ass too much!”
“All right, maybe I may have put myself in a position where we may have eventually had sex, but I didn’t FORCE myself on anyone, okay?” Sheamus began.
“How the hell could Punk have even known...?” Taylor began.
Matt, Taylor, and Sheamus all look to Jeff Hardy, who was on his cell phone, updating his Twitter.
“What?” Jeff asked.
“Can I kill him, Matt?” Taylor asked.
“Who? Jeff, Sheamus, or CM Punk?” Matt asked.
“I didn’t do anything!” Sheamus once again asserted.
“SHUT UP, SHEAMUS!!!” Matt and Taylor screamed.
“This is the last time I party with you f*cks,” Sheamus grumbled.
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