You fucking love Mimes

You know it's an acquired taste, but even as a little girl things like clowns and mimes made you giggle instead of shudder.

This girl's no different, so you watch in anticipation 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, grinning from ear to ear, go toe to toe with the mime, and stick out your hand for a shake. When she moves to take it, you slip it out from her fingers and run them through your brown hair. She frowns like a child denied ice cream, so when the bell rings she puts up her dukes like a 19th century boxer. "Looks like Triple M is going for some period fighting," Gia states, to which Geoff instantly rejoins, "Something I'm sure you're very familiar with. Heyoooo!" The announcer leans back to hi-five one of the front row viewers. "Yeah, yeah very funny asshole," Gia whines before they return their attention to the squared circle.

Mari circles around you, crab walking back and forth with her fists spinning in front of her. She winds up a punch by spinning her right arm, sending a massive uppercut towards your chin. If you underestimated your opponent, you may have taken the shot, but you know very well never to underestimate a mime.

You dodge the strike by an inch, and follow up with a sucker punch of your own to her stomach between her suspender straps. With a "OOOOoooomph!" she collapses to the mat, putting you in the lead out of the gate.