Undisputed_ How to Become the World Champion in 1,372 Easy Steps - Chris Jericho [11]
“Haaaaaaa!!” I said in defiance. “Ahhhhhh!” I said in anguish two seconds later as Shamrock stuck my head up my ass. He took me down to the mat, snorting and grunting as he bent me into more positions than Jenna Jameson. I screamed at him, asking why he had taken such offense to my chop.
“I don’t like those chops. They’re bullshit and they don’t hurt, and I’m not going to sell them.”
Fair enough, but I kindly suggested the next time I did something he didn’t like, to simply tell me about it instead of turning me into human origami.
For the finish, I was supposed to hit him with a steel chair, but when I went to ringside to grab one, all I saw were the red comfy padded kind. Needless to say, the viciousness of a chair shot is kind of diluted when the object in question is covered with a plush red feather pillow. I was expected to clock the World’s Most Dangerous Man with a weapon that the Girls Next Door would use to arouse Hugh Hefner’s horn.
But the soft satin sex toy was all that was available, so I improvised and whacked him over the head. Shamrock looked at me with disgust as the crowd went mild. Afterward I got in trouble from agent Jack Lanza for not making sure there was a proper steel chair at ringside. Since when was checking the furniture around the ring my job? I was surprised I didn’t get in trouble for not checking the bathroom for extra toilet paper too.
Shamrock ended up pulling out of our PPV match on the day of the show with a neck injury and was replaced by X-Pac. I had some ideas I wanted to try with Ken that I thought would work with Pac as well, but he didn’t show up until about 4:30 for the eight o’clock show. When he arrived, I told him I had some ideas for the Shamrock match that I wanted to transfer over to him. It was such a stupid concept, because Pac and Ken were total opposites in the ring, but I was convinced that the match I’d plotted out was a classic, and I wanted to stick to it.
I was really wrong.
X-Pac’s signature move was the Bronco Buster, where the other guy would be lying prone in the corner and he’d stick his X-Cock into his opponent’s face, and ride that shit up and down. I had to be different, so I wanted to take a Shawn Michaels turnbuckle flip upside down into the turnbuckle, and X-Pac would give me a reverse Bronco Buster. I figured the Michaels turnbuckle bump would prove my mettle and totally save my WWE career. Of course I completely botched it, flipping poorly and not making it all the way up into the corner. When X-Pac did the reverse Bronco Buster, it looked terrible. His crotch and my mouth were in the same place and he didn’t have my legs to support him. The crowd didn’t react at all to my impromptu blowjob and they didn’t react to the horrible DQ finish either. X-Pac was a smart worker and the match should’ve been good, but it wasn’t. I just couldn’t get it together.
Later on I asked X-Pac what he thought about the bout and he said, “It was what it was.”
Translation: “That sucked, my friend, and we both know it.” The Jericho Curse was refusing to leave the party and was vomiting all over the furniture to boot. I began to wonder if I’d ever have a good match again.
To make matters worse, my new Chris Jericho shirt bombed. The first piece of Y2J merchandise was a black T-shirt with “Y2J” printed in electric blue on the front and a mock definition of the term on the back. It was a huge success.
For the second shirt I had the idea of doing a shiny rave shirt similar to the ones I wore, with “Y2J” on one of the breast pockets. However, instead of embroidering the name on, the production company stitched a cheesy black patch in the middle of the silver material that stuck out like a sore ass. The shirt resembled what a gas station attendant would wear to a club, looked terrible, and sold accordingly. It did about twelve units, and thousands of dollars went down the drain courtesy