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[the camera fades in. The scene is that of the woman known only as Typhoid Mary. She is walking on the sidewalk. It is dark outside. There is a crescent moon in the sky and every so often, there is a street lamp, but that is the only light here. Mary seems to be in a deep conversation, but there is no one else around]
Mary:
So they hired me...they actually hired me. A psycho like me. Does that surprise you? No...not the fact that they hired me, because this is professional wrestling afterall. Where America's hero is someone who is so self-centered that he calls his fans jabronies, or in that other league...where their hero...in a drunken rage stabbed someone with a pair of scissors. Oh, no, professional wrestling is full of psychos, and most of them are cheered by the fans. Look at Mick Foley. I think I'll fit right in. But we all know wrestling is fake. Mick Foley is not that likeable psychopath, Cactus Jack, off camera. Duane Johnson is not that egotistical bastard that he plays on TV.[she stops walking]
Mary:
But sometimes...sometimes reality and fiction blend together, and that little kid has that thing under his bed...that serial killer does escape from jail and goes on a killing rampage at Frat houses...and sometimes...just sometimes, the world has someone like me to deal with. And now that I'm here in the NACW, you're the ones that have to deal with little ole me.[Mary turns toward the camera. Her wild black hair moves from the slight wind. Her eyes stare at the camera, like it is some kind of prey. The camera quickly zooms out, revealing her mouth which is upturned and open in a smile...showing all of her teeth just like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.]
Mary:
Don't you feel all special. All you big bad men get to beat-up on a little girl like me. Get all your hormones together and line up to face me, thinking of an easy win...or refusing to face me, trying to be the gentleman you damn well know you aren't. What's going to happen to your male egos, when I kick the living @*!$ out of you? Are you going to go back to mommy dearest and cry about how you got beat by a little girl? Are you going to tell all your friends that the scars on your body were from a fight with an entire gang...hehehehehehehe...[she continues to laugh in a high pitched screeching voice, and then she turns away from the camera, continuing on the sidewalk]
Mary:
There's a little tournament going on...is it to crown the World Champion? I think it is. But little ole me ain't in it. I wonder why that is. Can a little girl not be crowned champion in wrestling? Or maybe I can be, but the wrestlers all refuse to fight me? Or maybe I just got here to late? It doesn't much matter...titles don't mean anything to me...only the pain inflicted...and the pain taken...to make all those wonderful nightmares go away forever. I don't know how much it will take, but it'll happy. The only question is who's first?[the camera fades as Mary walks away]
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