Come On Out
"Shane," Announced Vince McMahon, in his most portentous 'let's rap' voice, "It's time we had a talk."
Entirely used to this tone of voice, Shane pretended to listen to his father as he studiously concentrated on his steak.
"...And then the aliens came for Pat Patterson's brain." Vince finished.
"Hrrm?" Shane asked.
"You aren't listening to a word I say, are you, kid?" Vince asked, bemused.
Shane sighed, wanting more than anything just to be able to luxuriate in a meal. He returned his fork to the table and said to his father, "Sorry, Pop, I'm hungry."
Vince sighed dramatically, "I told you that it's OK. We all know."
Shane blinked up at his father, nonplused, "Huh?"
Vince took his son's hand, "It's perfectly natural...after all, your mother and I have a similar...'understanding'....as you and Marissa do..."
"You mean mom vacuums if you clean up after the dog?"
Vince scowled. "Now, Shane, I didn't teach you to be a repressed person; let those feelings out!"
"What feelings?"
"Feelings! What do you feel right now?"
"Gassy."
Vince's eyes began to bulge; mentally, he counted to ten and continued. "Your mother understands when I 'fraternize' with other men."
"Fraternize?" Shane asked, eyebrow raised.
"Screw around," Vince clarified. "For instance, she always understood when I had to leave in the middle of the night to jet down to Florida for a boat show with Terry."
"Terry?! 'Hulk Hogan' Terry? My Godfather?!" Shane seemed shocked, and frankly, nauseated.
"Oh, sure; we had an on-and-off thing for years, until he decided he was straighter-than thou," Vince sniffed. "But it's fine, we're friends now. Too bad I can't say the same for Bret Hart."
Shane felt like a drooling Liz Smith. "You slept with Bret Hart?!"
"Oh sure! It was a bit...frightening at times...and at the end, when he crashed his motorcycle through the front gate and started screaming obscenities at Shawn Michaels..."
"Shawn?"
"...'You fucking fuck'!" Vince uttered, trying to affect Bret's Canadian rasp, "'how can you cheat on me with that bimbo?!'" Vince took a sip of his coffee. "I'm still trying to find a contractor that'll fix the locks. I knew I shouldn't have given him that gun for Christmas in '94..."
"You gave Bret Hart a gun?" Shane echoed, still bemused.
"Oh, it was only a little gun," Vince gestured, "Like his. Anyway, he never did forgive me for not inviting him to that menage I had with Hall and Hennig, but he forgets that we were running short on payroll and that was their Christmas bonus. Anyway, Shawn and I carried on for years, until he decided he was in 'love' with Kevin Nash. Then he was in love with Hunter. THAT is why they both ran screaming for the closet. Thank God Shawn found Him; he was the only man on my roster that he didn't know in a Biblical sense."
"Stephanie told me that," Shane laughed. "Never believed her."
"Well, at least your sister found a stable man. Too bad he's married," Vince coughed. "Not my affair. Anyway, I'm currently 'dating' Bischoff."
"Bischoff?" Shane snickered. "Isn't that a comedown? It sounds like ground chuck after prime rib."
"Ah, but you haven't been to bed with Eric Bischoff." Vince's expression was lascivious, "When in bed, he gains the strength of three whores." Vince took his son's hand. "Now, Shane, doesn't knowing you're not alone make you feel better? Don't you want to tell me something?"
"Well, dad..."
"After all, everyone in the company knows; hell, we even have an orgy every WrestleMania weekend...."
"...Dad..."
"...I can't bribe the maids enough money to clean up after us..."
"....Dad..."
"...I still owe the Hilton four thousand dollars to replace the sheets..."
"I had a vasectomy."
For once, Vince McMahon was completely silent. Shane sat in his place, sipping coffee. Vince finally gulped, "A vasectomy?"
"Yeah, and before you explode, it's reversible; Rissa and I aren't ready for kids yet, but that doesn't mean we can't practice," A lascivious look covered Shane's features.
"So you're straight?"
"Yup."
"And I just told you all of this for nothing?"
"Afraid so. But thanks for the gossip."
"You aren't even bi?!"
"Sorry, pop, I drive from the fairway. Hope you're not too disappointed. If it makes you feel better, I think Steph's been giving Trish Stratus a few of those 'come hither' looks lately..."
Vince smiled, "Now, Shane, you know I love you kids. It doesn't matter what your orientation is; I just wanted you to feel comfortable enough with me to let your mother and I know if anything major's going on."
"OK."
"So nothing's up?"
"Nope."
"And you have nothing to tell me...."
"No," Shane smirked, stirring his coffee. "But I have a feeling that you do..."