The Worst In The World (WWE and CM Punk Love Story)

Chapter 2

 Olive Garden is pack no matter what.

 I'm telling you the truth. Go to any Olive Garden, in Chicago, in Los Angeles, even in North Carolina, nothing but packed Olive Gardens.

 This famous Italian resturant may be known for its Fetticini Alfredo Night and stuff but it's also known to keep you out for a while until they get you a table.

 Even when you have your own reservation, you have to wait because they want to check everything else and make sure that your party didn't go down or whatever.

 I sat on one of the chairs, waiting for our table to be called on. Candi was beside me, looking about ready to fall asleep. I spied Punk and he sat down next to me.

 "Even when you're early, you still have to wait," Punk said, eyeing the people around us. I could tell he was kind of irritated by the way so many people could crowd up one room. Oh, and there are even some people waiting outside for their tables.

 "It gets annoying, when you're trying to wait for your table," I said.

 Punk nodded.

 After a little bit of waiting, the person called our table.

 We finally got to our table and sat down.

 I enjoyed the dinner with little bits of conversations and sips of water (I really don't drink and I have sodas once in a while).

 Everyone was enjoying themselves. At least Mom wasn't in the mood to embarrass me or what so ever.

 "I have something to say to all of you," Punk said, as he put another biscuit on his plate.

 Eveyone looked up from their plate.

 I sat forward, curious.

 "What is it?" Willhelm asked.

 "I wanted to tell you this when I got here but I think that dinner time is the greatest to discuss this," Punk said. "So, I decided to tell Vince that I would do the Monday Night Raw show on one condition: if I get to spend time with you guys this week coming up."

 I spitted out my water. The water landed on the biscuits on Punk's plate.

 "What?" I asked, surprised. "What?"

 Everyone turned to stare at me.

 "Sernalina, it's not nice to spit out water," Mom said.

 "Sorry," I said to Punk. "What were you saying about the week thing again?"

 "I told Vince that I would do Monday Night Raw if I would have this next week coming up off...starting now."

 I gasped. Now? During my summer time? (Sorry, if I didn't tell you guys this earlier. I'm about to be a senior at Chicago West High and summer had just barely started too.) Summer was suppose to be about spending time with my friends. Summer was suppose to be me going to the lake with Celia and Candi.

 Summer was not Punk spending time with us. Summer was suppose to be about us having a relaxing time, not spending it with Punk.

 For a Friday night dinner, this was going nowhere good for me.

 "Why would you stay here with us?" I asked. "I mean, don't you have better things to do?"

 "Otherwise than doing commercials, modeling and wrestling?" Punk said. "No. I told Vince to give me a break just for this week coming up and now too. I won't be staying in your house though. I have my own house here. I'll just be visiting and I'll take you kids around Chicago."