F-A-B-U-L-O-U-S!
Carmella's theme was thunderous over the PA as she came out onto the stage and did a moonwalk to the delight of the crowd. She shimmied out of her jacket as she skipped down the ramp, and then she slid into the ring under the bottom rope. She hopped to her feet and took a microphone from the time keeper. Her music faded as she spoke.
Carmella: My name is...
Crowd: Carmella!
Carmella: You know it. What up, Phoenix?
The crowd gave her the cheap pop.
Carmella: Are we ready for the Women's Royal Rumble? Are we ready for the moon-walkin', smack-talkin' chick to go to Wrestlemania?
They continued their smattering of applause.
Carmella: The odds are in my favor since of the one dozen women in the match I get to come out last! So to all those ladies in the locker room, and of course, that surprise entrant that's sticking out like a sore thumb? I'm going to do the unthinkable twice in one night. I'm going to win the Rumble, and I'm going to do it without saying another word!
Carmella dropped her mic while a stunned crowd looked on. Her music hit again, and she left the ring.
OOC: Five RPs to write and not looking to win with 'Mella. Good luck everyone!
Talk is Over
Talk is Over
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