You fucking hate Mimes

When you were little, your father made you sit through the whole It miniseries in one sitting. You've never forgiven him, clowns, or any clown-related artists.

This girl's no different, so you watch in terrible rage as Marielle gives up her charade of the confused, unwilling participant when she makes it to the metal stairs. She begins a silent sultry burlesque dance, using the corner post as a pole to dance on. Her hips gyrate back and forth as she drops to her knees, hands on the post, sticking her leather covered rump towards the crowd. Some of those who were dismissing the black, white, and red wrestler return to their seats, primally entertained enough to watch Mari work.

She slinks through the ropes, performing a cartwheel to center ring across from you. "Well that's quite the introduction," Geoff says in half sarcasm, "Let's see how the Number 1 reacts."

You, so furious you could kick a hole straight through Mari's Chest, are shaking in anticipation for the bell to ring. "She looks like she's about to explode," Gia notes, as you seem to coil like a spring. "I bet you know that feeling well, Heyooooo!" Geoff leans back and hi fives one of the front row audience members.

The bell finally rings, and you decide a kick through her chest is just the thing to do. You stomp across the mat, and front kick with all your might. But she deftly, with a ballerina twirl, slides out of the way and boots you in the ass.

You flop onto your face, furious that your bigotry against the classical performance artist population got the best of you