Christy Hemme walked out of the diva's locker room. She was dressed in a tight black dress, and had her hair pulled back. She was overly happy, and looked slightly confused when Scott Stanford walked up to her with a microphone.
Christy Hemme: Oh, thanks for the mic. Where we off too?
Scott Stanford: Uh, actually, Christy. I'm here to interview you. You're in the Queen of the Ring tournament.
Christy Hemme: What?!
Scott Stanford: You're in the first round.
Christy Hemme: Against who!?
Scott Stanford: Uh, Torrie Wilson. Don't you check the cards? You're still a wrestler.
Christy glared. She seemed to think for a moment, and the lit up with a brillant idea.
Christy Hemme: He's dead. I'm going to kill. him. And where is Natalie in all of this can I ask?
Stanford cleared his throat and pointed out the camera rather uncomfortably.
Christy Hemme: That tape doesn't go online, kay?
Stanford nodded slowly. Christy walked off from him, grunting on the way.
Christy Hemme: Dead. I tell you. Dead.
Redheads are Bold
Redheads are Bold
Writers aren't exactly people. They're a whole bunch of people. Trying to be one person.
The only living, breathing, Queen of Efeds in captivity
"You can't blame a writer for what the characters say." - Truman Capote