• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

I’m no doctor but it seemed to me like she was a germaphobe. She wore black leather gloves and didn’t like to touch anyone or shake hands. And she always wore vanilla-scented perfume; whenever she entered the room it smelled like a bakery.

After Chyna had beaten Jarrett for the title, I told him I was about to start an angle with her. He looked at me with compassion and said, “Good luck … you’re gonna need it.”

He wasn’t just whistling Dixie.

CHAPTER 4

Will Work for Food

Jericho vs. Chyna began on Raw in Dayton when I interrupted her mid-promo and said, “The Intercontinental Championship is one of the most illustrious championships in the history of the WWE. It’s been held by such legendary performers as Bret Hart, Ricky Steamboat, Shawn Michaels, the Mountie, but now it’s being held by a … woman! The idea of you bringing any credibility to the Intercontinental Championship is even more enhanced than your ridiculous fake breasts.” I was totally blistering her while she just stood there thunderstruck without a comeback.

I continued to insult and question her estrogen levels for the next few weeks, building up to a match for the IC title at Survivor Series in Detroit. Doing promos with her wasn’t so bad, nor was the idea of wrestling her. But when Vince told me that he wanted Chyna to go over at the PPV, I was a little taken aback.

I was going to have to lose to a girl? The thought of being pinned by her was revolting in every way, but that’s what my boss wanted, and I was going to give it to him. Chyna was an average worker at best, but knowing that she had so much political power while I was still under the microscope, I had no choice. Not only did I have to lose to her, I had to have a great match with her as well.

I went to WWE headquarters in Stamford, Connecticut, to work out the details of the match with her. HHH was there as her chaperone, helping us to decide what would and what wouldn’t work. I was bound and determined to steal the show and wanted to do everything I could to make that happen. I thought of a plethora of false finishes, including a spot where we would give each other a belly-to-belly suplex from the ring apron through the announce table. But the coup de grâce was the idea I had for the finish. She was using HHH’s Pedigree as her own and I wanted her to give it to me from the top rope. HHH nixed the majority of my ideas, saying they were unnecessary or too dangerous to try, and he was right; but the top-rope Pedigree made the cut.

HHH and I didn’t have much of a relationship at that point although Simple Jack could figure out that he didn’t really care for me. When I first came to the WWE, he gave me his phone number and said, “If you ever need anything, give me a call.” A few days later in San Jose, I didn’t know how to get to the venue, so I took him up on his offer.

“Hey man, it’s Jericho here. Do you know how to get to the arena?”

“Yeah, I know. Get a map.”

I heard the laughter of his DX cronies in the background as he hung up.

A few weeks later on Thanksgiving, DX did a bit where they went out on the streets to laugh at street people. They found a homeless man holding a sign that read WILL WORK FOR FOOD. HHH said, “Look at that guy. I bet he’s a better worker than Jericho.” The rest of DX (Road Dogg, Billy Gunn, X-Pac, and Chyna) nodded their heads and guffawed at their leader’s “rapist’s wit.” I confronted him about it later and he said with a smirk, “Yeah, I thought you’d find that funny.”

I didn’t. But I understood the relevance of the comment. It was a direct shot at me, and once again I realized if I didn’t do something to turn the tide, I’d be sent packing.

The match with Chyna at Survivor Series started out good, but halfway through it, something happened. The Detroit crowd began loudly chanting my name, not caring that she was the babyface. It was like the fans were telling Vince they were sick of the Chyna experiment and didn’t buy her getting the better