When the show returned from commercial break, video began streaming on the titantron, giving the crowd a look backstage. The women's champion was fuming, pacing back and forth with her title resting on her shoulder.
Michelle: How did these twits even get a shot at my title? They haven't had a match in months! Let alone win one.
She stopped her pacing and gave an annoyed look.
Michelle: And then they act like they deserve it! I've beat these two before. Ugh. They've probably screwed half the locker room by now so maybe I shouldn't be too surprised at the fact this match is happening.
Michelle huffed and held a hand up to her head, trying to contain herself.
Michelle: They better watch their backs. Especially after dissing the entire division. Not to mention Angelina Love. She'd break them in half. I mean, she's the only person to beat me so far. I can't deny that she's... Tough.
She resumed her pacing.
Michelle: Crooked nose and her bloody tampon can shove it. When I came to the EBWF I was new to the company... The company. Not wrestling. Ave Maria is about as green as it gets. All that hair dye can't hide a thing. And Summer? The only thing she's good at is screeching like a chicken with its head cut off. And sadly that's not what we do here.
She still kept her methodical pace on a loop, occasionally turning when she circled back around.
Michelle: They better hope that someone other than me gets their hands on them during that match to tonight. These morons are pushing daisies, and it's time to kill them off like the parasites they are. All these new generation divas act like they're the greatest thing to happen, but all they've done is leech off of the hard work divas like myself have put into the sports industry. There's no room for Maxim models and go go dancers in a place like this. For their sake Death before Dishonor might actually be a good idea. Ugh.
She shook her head and turned on her heel, swinging her locker room door open and leaving the scene as the video faded out into another segment.
