It was Saturday afternoon, and a chilly one. At least at the location Michelle found herself. Presently she was standing outside. Several noises could be heard; the familiar clubbing of an axe against wood, a couple of bells chiming, and the whisper of the wind catching the mic on the camera. The diva was taking a stroll through a flat, grassy field. As she walked, the camera remained focused on her, not showing much of the surroundings except for the ground immediately around her. The scene continued to roll on silently a few moments more. Just when it appeared she was about to speak, a guttural moan was heard instead. The camera turned to catch what was ahead. It was a cow. It “moo’d” again as Michelle and the camera approached. She walked around it and came to a fence with a gate and pulled it open. It could be heard latching back in place as she walked ahead silently. Not too far away was a barn. At this point, Michelle turned around to face the camera with a faint smile against the chill.
Michelle: Why am I here? Je ne sais pas. That’s “I don’t know” in French for you peasants that aren’t bilingually privileged. It seems fitting I speak a little Français since I’m in the middle of Nowhere, Canada. Toronto, to be specific.
She let out a sigh and looked around, the camera following her observation of the environment. It showed the few animals scattered throughout the plot of land, before returning back to her.
Michelle: I like the comforting sounds of mooing cows, snorting pigs, and chickens. And the smell. It’s great, I can’t imagine anywhere else I’d like to be right now.
Her statement was oozing with sarcasm. Her attitude went well with the weather, which was a little windy, cold, and cloudy.
Michelle: I don’t mind getting down and dirty. THAT is why I’m here at Riverdale Farm in Toronto, Canada. And as some of you may know, Toronto happens to be the hometown of your women’s champion, Angelina Love.
Precisely after she finished her sentence a piercing squeal was heard and she winced in reaction. A tiny black piglet scurried by her, before going out of frame. She dusted her coat off, even though nothing was on it.
Michelle: And apparently the home to Velvet Sky, too.
She huffed and shook her head, gathering her thoughts.
Michelle: Where was I? Right, Angelina Love. Did you know that pigs will sometimes breed within families? The owner of this farm graciously informed me of this, much to my dissatisfaction. But then I started thinking; that would explain a lot of things. For one, it would explain how that plastic, inbred woman Angelina came into existence. Canada is pretty sparsely populated in some areas, right? So yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a few brother-uncles and sister-mothers. Imagine Bigfoot… with webbed feet! What a nightmare.
She shuddered at the thought and shoved her hands in her pockets, deciding to pick up her pacing again.
Michelle: Tomorrow night, I will once again be in the ring with Angelina, fighting for the Women’s title. But this time, things will be different for a few reasons, one of them being that this will be a No Disqualification match. Another: what happened last time we met in the ring won’t happen again. Given that anything goes in this match, I will surely slaughter Bigfoot like the pig she is, and walk out with that belt around my waist. Funny, you’d never think you’d use “Bigfoot” and “pig” in the same sentence. I guess some people bring out the worst in us. And when I say that, I’m talking about me pointing out the worst in Angelina. Sorry…
She shrugged and came to a stop at another section of the fence, looking out over the vast field that seemed to stretch for miles.
Michelle: Not! Here’s the honest truth, when I put Bigfoot down, fortunately for her there will be cameras to catch every waking moment of her beat down, up until those final three seconds, in which she’ll be dead. Figuratively speaking, or whatever. Maybe not. That’s great for Angelina, because there are inevitable challenges in solving a mystery that involves the backwoods people, like the ones living on this ranch in Toronto. So, by association we can say Angelina Love is an inbred Bigfoot from the backwoods of Canada. It’d be pretty difficult to figure out what’s become of her after our match if there were no witnesses because one, it would be pointless to go through DNA profiling when she’s inbred. Everyone here is related, which goes back to my discussion about the pigs and… You get it. It’s disgusting even thinking about it.
She seemed to be getting a little worked up, because now she was pacing back and forth slowly beside the fence.
Michelle: And there wouldn’t be any dental records because I’m going to knock her teeth out with a boot of my own to her face. Payback for Wrestlemania. Revenge is… Sweet. So here’s to hoping I don’t slaughter Angelina Love in our match Sunday! As far as my time goes here in the EBWF, you, Angelina, are no doubt the most cunning. But even the tricky get caught. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d come after you again. I’m back, and there’s no escape except for one of us getting knocked out or pinned. For your sake I’d want the latter. It’s not enough for me to just win this match. No. I need to make a point and prove to you that I am a force to be reckoned with. Better watch your back out there Sunday, Angelina. You’d be surprised at how fast things can change for you in the blink of an eye.
Michelle smiled as the scene faded out and the video came to an end.
====================~*~====================
The next day, it was Michelle’s turn to take the podium at a promotional press conference for Aftermath. She was expected to discuss her match at the pay-per-view occurring later that day. And she was going to deliver. With the same egotistical air she always had about herself, the diva made her entrance through the double doors of the room, where she was promptly greeted with a mixture of boos and cheers. She’d just come off of a nice win at Warfare, which seemed to dull some of the upset of her lost match at Wrestlemania only one month ago. She couldn’t help but smirk and hold her chin up a little higher as she approached the podium.
Michelle: Thank you, thank you, I’m happy to see you too.
She smiled in the faces of everyone despite the fact she had a lot of people who hated her there. Someone from the crowd shouted out.
“Loser!”
Michelle raised her eyebrows and nodded her head in mock approval before chuckling, taking the comment in stride.
Michelle: How original! But if I’m the loser here, what the hell does that make you? The only way to describe low-life slobs like you is giving you the title of subterranean scum. That’s what all of you are. Sewer rats. We are in New York City after all. You’re all beneath me! That’s why I am up here and YOU are down there. And you even pay to see me! That’s pathetic!
She found it so easy to get to the crowd. It didn’t take much. At this point most of the noise in the room had simmered to an energetic murmur. She cleared her throat.
Michelle: I’m not here to talk about you. I’m here to talk about me. I didn’t want to waste my breath on you yankees, but it looks like I must deliver. Again. Just try to pay attention while you’re busy drooling on yourselves. Last Monday on Warfare, I participated in a gauntlet match. I won, naturally, and earned another chance to win the Women’s championship. Angelina Love and I will be facing off once again tonight at Aftermath. At Wrestlemania, I was close to winning. But being “close” doesn’t cut it. In a business like this, you’re either there or not. It’s like falling off a treadmill; even if you fall flat on your face and tumble off, the machine still keeps running with or without you. It only took one match for me to solidify my standing in the division after a few days off, and I’m back on my feet.
There was a little bit of a rise from the crowd. When it died down, Michelle continued.
Michelle: This time, our match will have No Disqualifications. Anything and everything will happen. What Angelina and I have against each other is getting to be personal. I’m not even sure this is about the title anymore. I am more focused on beating her for my own pride and satisfaction, and winning the women’s championship will be an added benefit. I will gladly shove it in her face once if I win. For the past month, Angelina has been on this campaign, wanting to rid the diva’s division of the parasites somehow surviving and straggling along, like Layla… She’s one of the many that’s managed to remain relevant by association, but I assure you, I have no ties to that sorry excuse for a diva. Angelina Love’s campaign does not pertain to me. I’m a special case. I’m with the VIP’s. The exclusive party! The interesting thing is this is a lot like politics. There are a lot of dirty players in the ring. Plenty of mudslinging, defamation, whatever you want to call it. But here’s what it all comes down to: The women’s champion can put her money where her mouth is, and so can I. The EBWF Universe needs to go ahead and give credit where credit is due. We’ve proven time and time again we aren’t ones to be messed with. She managed to put me over. Well, actually, I turned around and she was holding her foot up and I walked into it. Silly me! My bad.
She feigned a smile and put a hand up innocently.
Michelle: There’s no denying I had the upper hand in that match. Right up until that moment. It all slipped right through my fingers just. Like. That… Now I know how Velvet Sky feels every stinking day. It doesn’t feel too great. I redeemed myself at Warfare, and here we are again. The same scenario panned out, with different rules.
She had to stop and look down to shake her head, laughing to herself. At herself. When she found her words she looked ahead into the audience.
Michelle: The outcome will be significantly different whether Angelina wins or not. Neither one of us will walk out the same person way we walked in, whether that’s because we’re physically battered or mentally. You can expect twice as much from us as you did at Wrestlemania, because we both have something to prove. Angelina needs to prove to the world that she’s not some fluke when it comes to beating Michelle McCool, and I need to show everyone that I deserve to be where I am. The people up top putting the Newcomer of the Year against the Female Wrestler of the Year can expect a real showcase of talent, and no one will be disappointed. Except the loser of course. And that label just doesn’t seem to stick to me. Not at Wrestlemania, not today, not tomorrow, never…
The women’s champion can have her Phang Lyn’s, her Summer Rae’s and her Velvet Sky’s, but they can only help you so much. You surround yourself with people lower than you to build yourself up because when It comes down to it Angelina, you aren’t worth a penny run over by a train. Now THAT’S cheap. And to take a note from you, the strong do survive. I’m not dead. And it’ll be a very cold day down in the devil’s playground before I let the likes of you try and put me down. "Real talk."
After her closing statement, Michelle walked off the stage, leaving the reporters and fans chattering excitedly about what was to come later that night with the aftermath post-Wrestlemania.
