This is my version of “Wicked”. I don’t remember any of the songs from that show (apart from “Defying Gravity”) but what I do remember is the way the writer took the Wizard of Oz story and changed the character and made it all fit in with the film. I introduced Mandy in the first MSE story, though I didn’t give her a name. The character became so popular (thanks @PhantomLurker117! ) I brought her back in ‘MSE 6 Sweet Revenge’ and gave her a name. Then I felt I had to give her a redemption arc.
‘Fish and Whistle’ is my absolute favouritist John Prine song. This is him singing it :
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jHaF36Kw8qc
I never got to see him live. The first time I had tickets I came down with Chicken Pox adjacent (Not Chicken Pox apparently, but it looked like it, at my age!!!) and the second time he tragically died before the tour.
The child’s name Leyna is a reference to the Billy Joel song (“All for Leyna”), but I couldn’t think of a way to use the song title in the story.
And yes, I did shamelessly copy ‘Ulysses’ for the ending.
Mom Note:
I grew up calling my Mother MOM. It turns out most people in the UK call her MUM, the exception being people from Birmingham (that’s me) who use MOM the same as most people in the United States. Now since I have set this story in an unspecified place in the UK, I’m using MUM. That is the convention I chose, suppressing my natural inclination to call her MOM. Yeah this is the kind of thing I obsess about and part of the reason it takes me so long to write a story.
MSE 08 – Mandy, Fish and Whistle
"Will you be my new mummy?" the little girl asked.
I saw myself reflected in her beautiful brown eyes.
What the fuck was I supposed to say?
I been thinking lately about the people I meet
The carwash on the corner and the hole in the street
The way my ankles hurt with shoes on my feet
And I'm wondering if I'm gonna see tomorrow.
I'm Mandy, fly me
You've probably heard some bad things about me. They're probably right, I've done some pretty shitty things. I'm five-seven, blonde shoulder-length hair, of course, I've got boobies, C-Cups and they're awesome. I used to date Tony, the best-looking boy in school, so I must be pretty hot. These days my life is not so glamorous.
My day started normally enough, like every other bloody day. I woke up, took my DMT (Copaxone, a Disease Modifying Treatment), and marked another day in my calendar, 'Days since last Relapse'.
This is the joy of MS. Multiple Sclerosis. The autoimmune system, that thing that fights off all the bugs (apart from that fucking cold that never seems to leave), decides to attack your nervous system. It scars the nerves, hence the sclerosis. Of course, there's more than one of them, thus the multiple. I used to joke that the only thing strong enough to fuck me up is me. I'm lucky (?) I've got the relapsing/remitting type, if you get the progressive type that's when you book your place at Dignitas in Switzerland.
Two months since my last relapse since you asked, it was a hug. That's when it feels like someone's put a ten-ton weight on your chest and jumps on top of it. All I have at the moment is the fucking Parathesis, you know how your arm tingles if you sleep in it wrong? That's nerve damage, imagine that in your hands twenty-four-seven.
I sucked hard on my vape, like a baby on a teat, deeply inhaling that sweet nicotine, and I go to work at Tesco. Life didn't turn out so well after I left school; three 'D's, two 'C's and a 'B' for English, I was never gonna set the world on fire, was I? I thought about teaching, but I didn't have the grades, did I? The siren song of retail whispered in my ears; how could I resist!
On my very first job, I said thank you and please
They made me scrub a parking lot down on my knees.
Then I got fired for being scared of bees.
And they only give me fifty cents an hour.
After my shift was over, I walked home through the park. How does that song go? 'Hanging on in quiet desperation, that's the English way, shorter of breath and one day closer to death'. Yeah, that's me.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes", I reply.
"Yes", counters Victoria, the posh twat. She’s got a similar body to me ‘cept mine's nicer. Some might say she's classy, with nice tits and arse with shoulder-length dark black hair. I think she's just some tart trying to steal my man because she can't get her own. I was gonna fuck her up good.
I'd already beaten up the little blonde Barbie for Tony, my man. She had the nerve to challenge me when we turned eighteen. It was my first fight; I was so scared. I just went crazy at her. I beat her so bad she peed herself, I did feel sorry for her, but the dweeb didn't think to empty her bladder before the fight, did she? After that I’d got the nickname ‘Mental Mandy’ and nobody really messed with me until this posh twat started sniffing around Tony, my man, did I mention he was my man? I don’t know where we picked her up, but it was probably from a bloody toilet seat like V.D. She always talked about her posh school and all the holidays she went on with mummy and daddy. Bending down giving everybody a good view of her fat boobies and arse. Playing up to Tony, Fuck off, it’s not gonna happen.
She really got on my tits this one night in the pub. She was waving those boobies in Tony’s face, touching him any chance she could get. I had told her, not nicely, to fucking take her hands off my man. She said 'make me' that's when we went outside into the wet car park.
We marched side-by-side out like two modern-day duelists. Mentally I was working out all the ways I was gonna fuck this posh twat up. We stood facing each other, her in a black push-up bikini top and jeans, me just wearing a yellow T-shirt and shorts. Then the Marshall announced.
“Fight!”
We both yell and launch ourselves at each other, grabbing hair with one hand and the other hitting at each other. We spin furiously around. I’m punching at her face, she at mine.
I launch a knee into her body, and she grunts and knees me back. I launch another knee, she grabs it. I’m hopping on one foot now. She pulls my leg, and I fall backwards, with a thump my arse crashes to the floor.
She starts stomping me, I try to cover up, but the bitch is pounding my body, getting in a few stomps to the tits.
My legs kick out to trip her. She falls on top of me, her arm around my neck then she starts punching into my face. She gets my nose. Bitch.
I yank hard on her hair, pulling some out, and I get her onto her side. She yells. We’re face-to-face now. And I start kicking and wailing away at her. She kicks back at my face, it’s getting bloodier, and I feel my lip split. She kicks under my chin; I feel my teeth slam shut.
I grab her foot and slam it into the tarmac. Yes, I am trying to fracture it, slut. Like crazy, she pulls at my hair with both hands trying to make me release her foot. I bloody won’t. I get her other foot and pushing my arms as far apart as I can she does the splits. The bitch screams, banging her hands on the floor. I leer into her face.
“How’d ya like that? Slut!” I spit on her face.
I push her legs further apart, trying to snap something, she moans. She balls her hands into fists and then slams them together, my head crushed between them. Falling back in pain, I release her legs, my ears ringing.
Pleased with herself, she scrambles on top of me and starts banging my head into the tarmac.
“Fucking slimy slut! I’ll bash your brains out!”
I struggle to get my legs around her shoulders, fail, then I kick her fucking face, hard. I feel her nose break. Then I start cycling my feet at her face, pushing her away.
We both rise, and she wipes the blood from her nose.
“You hurt me you fucking dirty slag”.
“Get used to it, not so bloody posh now, are we?”
Oh no, she isn’t. Her face is bruised, and red. Her fucked up hair matches her busted nose and lips pulled back over blood-soaked teeth in a feral grimace. I realise how I'm drenched in sweat and how hard I'm breathing.
I go for her hair, slapping at her face. She pulls at my T-shirt, spinning me around, and then it rips. I fly away, landing on my back, splayed out. My stretched, torn T-shirt hangs in tatters around my waist, my breasts bared. She runs towards me, but my kick turns her orbs into pancakes, and I see the tears in her eyes. She retreats pretty quickly.
I join my hands together and swing at her head. It rocks to the side, spraying spit.
I move forward and she ax-handles me in the face, my head jolts back as she moves forward fists raised. She swings. I block and fire my right fist like a piston straight into her left tit, it feels bloody good as she screams. Then a left cross to the same jug, and it pops free.
Hungry for payback, she uppercuts my right tit. Shit that hurt.
Then she charges into my belly, taking me down. We land in a tangle of limbs. Her legs get around my neck, and she squeezes. Then with two hands she grabs my hair and pulls.
My arms try to pull her legs apart, but failing, I pound her face instead. They I go for disfiguring her, clutching at her mouth and twisting those lips. She pulls tighter with her legs, and I feel my breathing get harder, she tightens again, and I'm slapping at her face. Anything to make her stop, the bitch is laughing now.
The bitch pulls my hair, pulling me into her chest. I open my mouth and bite down as hard as I can. I taste blood, she screams, good.
Hysterically she kicks me away. We both sit there propped on our arms, me coughing my lungs out, she sobbing looking at the wound I inflicted on her poor little titties. Bitch.
At the same time, we both rise, determined to finish the other. All the sophistication is gone from the posh bitch's face, her unfettered tit flops out of her top, her hair tangled and messed up, her face red, nose bleeding. Have you heard the expression ‘Fur coat, no knickers’? Yeah, underneath all those well-bred airs and graces she’s just a street-fighting slut. Suits me fine, ‘cos so am I!
We both stagger together. Like two primitive cave girls fighting for a piece of meat, which I guess we were. She flies in a left hook. I duck, it sails over my head. I sock her stomach. With a grunt, she moves back. I move in and start firing left and right hooks into her face. Her head snaps from side to side with each blow. Her eyes are all puffy and there are cuts over her face. I’m gonna fuck her pretty face so bad, I’m gonna...
"I'm not losing to a fucking slag like you!" she screams.
She kicks out, her foot sinking into my belly. I bend in pain. Her two hands shoot into my hair, and she yanks, pulling me forward off my feet. I fall to the wet floor tits first. Then she starts dragging me along by the hair. Her fist batters into my back, my tits scraping along the rough tarmac. The gravel cuts into the tender flesh.
“Fuuuuucccck!”
I scream, it turns into a moan, I’m thinking of the damage inflicted on my poor breasts. She pulls me closer and then starts hammering her elbow into my back. I squirm and writhe in pain as I scream at the bitch.
I wrap my arms around her legs and wrench. She cries out as I put her on her fat arse. I scramble to get on top and start raining blows down on her face. I see the blood on my hands, it’s not my own. She pulls my head back by the hair, trying to get me away, she won't fucking stop me.
Her finger jabs viciously into my eyes, I scream falling back, clutching my eyes.
Her foot slams into my face and I fall on my back and we both try to rise. As I'm still trying to get my eyesight back, the bitch rises quicker, grabbing my hair and pulling me down into her raised knee, smashing into my face. I see stars as I move back on unsteady legs. Growling she grabs my raw abraded tits in both hands and lifts them like she's trying to raise them over my head. I sob, my hands trying to get them away.
She pulls up harder my titflesh taut. White-hot pain screams from my tenderised breasts, my hands fall away. Her fingers gouged into my red raw breasts.
"Please... ". I whine, the pain is too great. I cannot believe it, I’m losing to this posh bitch, I’m losing my Tony, I’m losing.
She releases my breasts. I feel the pain subside. Until her right hook slams into my stomach just below the ribs. She smiles.
"Nrrrgggh!".
Then her left hook.
“Ummphh!”
My mouth opens in a wide 'O' as I feel my eyes bursting out of my sockets.
Then a right hook. My stomach spasms, and I puke my guts out, I watch it all splatter on the wet tarmac. And then I fall forward face-first into it. I’m fucked.
"You're playing with the big girls now, dirty whore, you're outclassed. I was taught to fight in the best private schools".
I feel her hands on the back of my head, she wipes my face in the stinky vomit, like she’s trying to scrub the tarmac clean. Then she hauls me up by the hair so I’m standing on my rubbery feet. The puke mixes with the tears streaming down my face, I’m finished.
But she isn’t. Cackling she moves behind my back, grabs my right arm hard, twisting it up high behind my back.
She whispers into my ear.
"You fucking hurt me you piece of shit. Nobody hurts me!". Then to everybody.
"Let's see what a dirty slut you are".
She pulls down my shorts with her other hand, and they fall to my ankles. I wasn't wearing any knickers. She pushes me forward, and I stumble, tripping over the shorts, she doesn’t care, she just keeps holding me up, manhandling me along.
She marches me around the car park. Naked, offering the odd punter a good feel. I feel cold hands exploring my intimate places, leering faces, they’re fucking laughing as they violate me.
"Come on everybody, look at the dirty cum dumpster". She looks down at my crotch, looking disgusted.
"They can't see anything but your hairy, dirty minge! I'll fix that!"
Hissing, she reaches down to my crotch, roughly grabs a handful of pubic hair and yanks like she’s pulling weeds out. I scream, feeling red-hot raw pain. With her feet, she forces my legs apart, making sure everybody has a good view up my birth canal.
She pushes me to the hard tarmac, and I curl into a ball, sobbing.
She puts her foot on my body and raises her hands taking in the crowd's cheers.
"We all know who the better woman is".
As I lie on the ground sobbing. She kicks me.
"You think you're so tough. You're a fucking loser. You'll always be a fucking loser".
She walks off. Leaving me naked on the wet tarmac, despairing in my defeat.
She beat me.
"I'm off to fuck my prize, Tony". Indeed, she did, I never saw Tony again.
She broke me, didn't she? I was years ago but I still carry the scars. I think about this as I stare at my reflection in the duck pond. My life is going nowhere, even Barbie beat seven shades of shit out of me in revenge for me making her wet herself. I wanted to recapture a former glory, but I ended up getting my windpipe crushed. I am a loser. I want...I want...Something different.
Everything stays the same until you turn the page. So, I turned that page. I decided to apply for the TA, Teacher's Assistant position at the local school. I'd thought about it before, but always put it off. I wanted to do something I could feel proud of, I didn’t do well at school, mainly 'C's and 'D's, but I did get a 'B' in English. So, I ended up helping teach English with Miss Wiltshire. I liked it
There was one kid, Leyna, she wasn't a troublemaker, she was just quiet. She lived with just her dad; her mum had walked out. And she missed her mum, she blamed herself for her mum and decided to withdraw from the world.
“Sometimes adults fall out of love, with each other, but it doesn’t mean they love you any less”. I told her, trying to be comforting.
“I know my Daddy loves me, but my mummy hates me”.
“I’m sure she loves you”.
“No”, she frowned, “she said I was a stupid little brat!”.
“If she can’t see what a wonderful kid you are, then she’s the stupid one!” I grinned at her.
“She’s a poopy-head!”
“A poopy-head?” She looked, puzzled, she’d never considered the idea of her mother being a poopy-head before.
“Yes instead of brains she’s got poop!”, Yeah shit for brains. Well, she had. I’m not big on rug rats, but this kid was nice, and smart, she was just lonely.
“Poopy-head “ she giggled.
We talked; I even gave her advice on making friends, ‘cos I’m such an expert. Okay, I went to Tess, Miss Wiltshire, for some advice and she helped. We didn’t have a class full of trouble-makers and like me, she felt Leyna needed an adult to help her. I worked with her, she became my project, and slowly, she came out of her shell, bloody hell, she even made some friends, it was wonderful.
I began to realise that five is a wonderful time of life for a little kid. It is a time when the eyes are wide open and the patterns are not yet set; a time when one has not yet been hammered into accepting everything as immutable and hopeless; a time when the hands cannot do enough, the mind cannot learn enough, the world is infinite and colourful and filled with mysteries.
Five is a special time before they take the questing, unquenchable soul of the young dreamer and thrust it into dreary schoolroom boxes. It is a time before people begin saying “Act your age”, “Grow up” or “Get a job at Tesco”. A time of delight, of wonder, of innocence, before the sclerosis sets in, this is the world Leyna drew me into. I was learning as much from, her as she was from me, and I started to realise that the sclerosis was not just my body, it was my entire life. Shit, y'know I'd even begun re-sitting my GCSEs. I'm edjucated me!
Then one day I met the dad. I was tidying up after class when I heard a voice behind me.
"You're Miss Wiltshire's friend I've heard so much about". I heard a voice behind me, I knew it, but...
Bloody Hell!
It was Tony!
He was holding a bunch of flowers and a balloon, and his face was full of surprise. He looked down at the floor, then up, and spoke quietly.
"I'm sorry"
"What for?"
"I was a shit to you, to Sharon", Tony shuffled his feet and averted his gaze.
"It made me feel so fucking important having women fight over me". Then he looked me in the eye.
"But someone special came into my life and I realised it's not about me anymore".
"Who? ". I think I knew the answer.
"Daddy!"
Right on cue, a little five-year-old kid crashes into him, arms hugging his body. She turned to look at me.
"Is this my new mummy? Please".
Tony smiled proudly, ignoring the question.
"It's all for her".
Leyna looked at me.
"Can she be my part-time mummy, Daddy, please?"
Tony looked at me.
"She is right, I need someone to help. Just a couple of evenings a week, I’ll cook you a meal, I cook now. Would you...?"
I looked at Leyna, then at him.
"Yes, but..."
I looked him straight in the eye.
"...I'm never gonna fuck you"
"I know" he replied.
So, I'd come round and help out with Leyna. Tony cooked the meals, I carried on helping her to study, branching out into Maths and History.
And no, I didn't fuck him.
"I wish you were my mummy"
She's lying on top of me on her bed. The poor mite couldn't sleep, it was Bonfire Night, fireworks were going off all over the place, and England sounded like Beirut. We'd been to one of the displays, she'd loved her Toffee Apple. But when we got back she was scared with all the fireworks. Her Dad offered but she wanted me, so I stayed.
"Hey little one. You have no choice about who you give birth to, but you can choose who you hang out with. And I chose you, my little chocolate button". I dinged the top of her nose. That bitch how can you abandon someone who needs you that bad?
As I held her in my arms I realised I’d made a rod for my own back. I realised this was gonna become a habit, wasn’t it? I also realised I didn’t care.
Later I heard the story. Tony married fur-coat-no-knickers. They had Leyna after that pretty bloody quickly. But it turned out No-knickers didn't like a life of domestic bliss, and smelly nappies on a low budget. The bank of Mum and Dad cut her off as they both disapproved of her life choices. She binned Tony and the kid and took up with Mister Rich Bastard, leaving Tony with Lenya. And fuck me he changed, from a selfish prick to a loving father. He got a job in sales and did quite well, he was always good at manipulation after all. It was quite an achievement since being a man he couldn't win the sale. He had to work to get the sale without a challenge, which was difficult, but he managed it.
Then the trouble started, Mister Rich bastard got all broody thinking about his legacy. He wanted a kid. Posh bitch being too posh to push anymore suggested that she had one she made earlier, already past nappy age. They decide to challenge Tony for custody of Leyna.
Tony’s fucked. If he goes the court route, Mr Rich Bastard has expensive lawyers, Victoria is Leyna’s mother, and he’ll lose. He could go the MSE route and settle the dispute by physical combat, it is a part of the legal system, after all. It only applies to civil cases though; you don't want murderers getting off 'cos they won a fight. He’s a man so he can’t fight. He would need a champion to fight for him, maybe hire one, but again Mr Rich Bastard could afford to hire a better one and he’ll lose.
Then I had an idea.
"I'll be your champion. I'll go up against their champion. I'll lose. But if you bet against me, you can take the winnings and run!"
It's not entirely legal, but betting does happen on the outcome of these court fights. Tony could even take a loan out, bet the increased sum and collect the winnings when I lost. Then pay back the loan and run. He could win enough money for him and Leyna to get out of the country to somewhere with no extradition treaties with England before the court order is enforced. I suggested
Georgia, the country not the state, Tony liked Costa Rica. It seemed like a good plan.
"You'd do that for us?".
"For Leyna", I corrected.
I turned up to the courthouse on the appointed day with Tony and Leyna. Tony went off with Leyna to place the bet. I looked around the courtroom. It was a normal courtroom but with a wrestling ring
in the centre. The judge's, well referee's, bench on one side, raised. And stepped seating for the viewing gallery around the other three sides.
I'm relaxed. No uncertainty about the result. I'm gonna lose. My opponent is a professional, nothing personal, just another day in the office. But I know why I'm doing this, Leyna will get away from Posh Bitch, and she'll like Georgia, Costa Rica, wherever. Tony asked me to come with, I'm not sure. There's nothing really to keep me here, and I would miss Lenya.
“I’m gonna enjoy this sooo much!”
I heard a voice behind me, and I turned. I’m looking into Victoria’s face. Shit!
"When I found out who was Tony's champion. I told the champion we hired that her services were no longer required. I just couldn't resist a chance to tangle with vomit-face again!" Victoria gloated as she prepared herself, tying her hair into a ponytail.
"I'm gonna take my time and enjoy this" She grinned
Shit.
The good news is I won't be getting beaten up by a trained Champion, the bad news is I would be beaten up by someone who will take sadistic delight in doing so.
I look over at Victoria. Christ, she's had some work done. She now has that plastic reality TV Botox smile and those tits, what did they cost? A lot of money, she's now tits-on-a-stick. Her arse enlarged to match. She’s wearing a white sports bra, don’t need a push-up bra anymore do ya? And white shorts, bet they’re bloody designer clothes, cost more than I earn in a year. I’m just wearing my gold sports bra and shorts, which I always wear.
Tony and Leyna hadn't returned yet, but it was time for arbitration. The judge, the referee, whatever, is wearing a powdered wig and those red robes, she sits at her bench and reads out the rules. Victory by submission (that's me) or KO (no thanks), the winner gets custody of Leyna. Announcements over, she sits at her raised desk, the bench? In front of a great big monitor, for VAR I'm guessing, in case of appeals. Standing in front of the judge is a couple of ushers, they look more like nightclub bouncers. It's all very cold, legal, efficient.
The judge bangs the gavel instead of blowing a whistle. It is on.
This time we don't rush at each other. We circle, fists raised, moving ever closer.
“Leyna is mine!”.
She jabs into my face; my head goes back, and my nose starts to bleed. She just grins.
I fire two hard slaps into her face, a left and a right, in quick succession. My hand-prints show angry and red on her cheeks. She gingerly touches them and looks at me with fury blazing from her eyes.
She raises her knee and stomps me in the stomach, I stagger back, gasping.
“By the time I’ve finished with you, you’re gonna have to eat out of a straw!”
Then she swings. I block and fire a jab into her belly. I know I'm going to lose, but I don't want to make it easy for the cow. One 'cos I need to make it look convincing, deliberately losing an arbitration fight is illegal, and two because I really want to hurt miss-tits-on-a-stick, not 'cos she took Tony, but because of the humiliation of our last fight and the way she treated Leyna. She's gonna win, that's the plan, but she's gonna have to bloody work for it.
She comes towards me, firing two quick right jabs at my face. I dodge the first one but the second jab slams into my nose. My head snaps back and the bitch follows up by digging her left fist into my ribs. I grimace in pain as her knuckles dig into my side. I try to back away, but she stays on me, dropping her right fist down to her hip and drives it up and into the pit of my belly. My eyes go wide as the air bursts from my lungs in an explosive gasp.
She grabs my hair and throws me face-first onto the floor by it. Slowly I get up on my hands and knees as she launches a goal kick straight into my belly. I flip over and roll back and forwards on the mat clutching my stomach in pain.
Cackling she stands with my head between her legs, facing my feet. And then she drops. The next I know my face is engulfed by her enhanced buttocks. Laughing, she bounces those buttocks on my face. My fucking nose disappears up her arse crack. Oh yeah, she wants to humiliate me. She starts trying to get my legs, and I kick, trying to get them out of her reach. I was going to submit, but not to a bitch like her this way! Then fuck it, I bite like I’m gonna burst those fucking implants. She jumps up, screaming like she sat on a burning fire, grabs my right arm and starts twisting. Stomping on my body, grinding her foot into my breast.
“Fucking dirty tart, that kid is mine!”
I roll, grabbing her legs, and she falls to the ground. She sits up, I look her in the face. I snap. My fist swings straight into the cow's gob. She can't cry out 'cos my fists in her mouth, but I see her eyes widen in shock. Then I hear it.
A five-year-old's voice rings out over the crowd.
"Dad says Fuck her up good, mum!". What?
One of the ushers is having a quiet word with Leyna. Technically, communicating with a fighter during arbitration is illegal, but what’s he gonna do, arrest a five-year-old? Puzzled, I turn to look at Tony. He’s gesturing with his fists; he wants me to clobber her. What the fuck?
I try to figure it all out and then my anger boils over. Fuck it, if I win the fight we won't need the money.
Fuck the plan. Fuck her and I’m gonna…gonna…
I'MGONNAFUCKINGKILLHER!
I scream and kick up, my foot hitting her straight in the face, opening up her nose like a gusher. With my other foot, I kick sideways, catching the side of her face. Blood from her nose sprays all over the mat.
She falls back, screaming and I’m on top, my knees over her arms. I start punching.
"You don't deserve her you piece of shit!".
She bucks like a crazy freak. One of my legs lifts, damn, her right arm slips free, double damn, she swings a fist into my head, it rattles my brain. My other leg moves up and her other arm is free. She pushes me onto my back and then she starts kicking on her back, clocking my chin, I kick her forehead. But she traps my right leg in her hands. She twists my leg, the tendons in my leg strain and I scream.
I launch a punch straight into her left bazooka, crushing it with a splat, her breast mushrooming out, deforming like so much putty. I see the tears in her eyes as she screams, and my leg is free.
We attack. Rolling on the mat our hands scramble for flesh in between punching and kicking. It's a wild catball. We battle on our sides. Digging our fists and knees into each other’s faces, breasts and bodies. Our fingers dig deep into each other’s hair. Strands of black and blonde hair litter the mat. Our feet dig into each other’s bellies, breasts and crotches. The muscles on our legs bulge as we press feet deep into bellies and smash each other's breasts into chests. She stomps hard in my belly, scrambling to get on top of me. The bitch has her knee pressed into the side of my face, pinning me to the floor. She hammers at the back of my head.
I push myself up, and my muscles strain. Fuck she's heavy, must be all that silicon. My arse is lifted. She goes over my back, and as she lands I grab her head in a headlock. Punching at her face. She pulls my hair, my head twists backwards, and her palm hits my chin. I release. She rolls me on my back, slapping at my face, I slap back.
Pulling her hair, I get her over and start banging her head into the mat. Her legs curl up around my shoulders and she slams me into the canvas, I lie there stunned as she scrambles, locking her legs around my waist and she squeezes, the muscles on her legs standing out as she strains. I gasp, jackknifing as my stomach is squeezed sofuckingtight!
I’m facing the smiling bitch, so I join my hands together and slam them down into the over-stuffed boob I didn't flatten last time, she screams, releasing her scissors.
We both get up. Red angry faces, our hair like an untidy bird's nest. Sweat and blood drip from our bodies trickling down our backs and thighs. Dark bruises and deep scratches cover once-smooth flesh.
The bitch kicks my knee, pain shoots through my body as my leg buckles. I’m limping.
She starts punching my body, I'm overwhelmed I right cross her head, but she just keeps pounding. She's driving me back, crowding me into the corner of the ring. Nowhere to escape, She just keeps pummeling.
It looks like I was clinching but instead, I grab her stubby little nipple, can't put silicone in them, can ya? And twist through her sports bra. She cries out and I kick her away. My left hook lands on her face with a satisfying crunch. I bury my hands up to my wrists into her mega whoppers, she cries out. I give her nipples an extra twist and she’s gasping.
“I’ll fucking rip them off” I threaten.
Moaning she punches at my breasts. I move back, still with my hands on her breasts. I swing her by the nipples into the ropes. She rebounds off the ropes, coming back into range. I swing, she ducks. She turns, and her elbow slams into my back.
I pivot, swinging my fist, smashing into her cheek, she sprays blood and spittle all over the canvas as she staggers back. She stops herself and coming back she fires a fusillade of punches at me, I stop some, but her punches rock my head and sweat flies off as it snaps from side to side. I counter with a hook to her body. She jabs right back. I grab her hair and launch a knee into her head. She gasps grabs my hair and launches a punch into my face.
Our hands entangled in each other’s hair, we wander around the ring holding each other, like two drunken sailors.
“Slut” I fire a punch into her torso. I feel her body rock, she cries out
“Tart” she punches to the side of the head. My senses swim for a moment, and I gasp.
“Whore!” I hit her in the tits. I grind my fist in, fucking flatten those implants.
“Loser!” Vengefully she fires a fist into my left breast, driving it up into my ribcage, and lifting me to my toes.
My back hits the ropes. I lose concentration. She grabs my neck and pulls me down as her leg swings up, her thigh slams into both my tits.
"Fuuuccck!"
I slump against the ropes, stunned, massaging my poor breasts.
Her hands go to my throat, and she squeezes. She has a crazy look in her eye, I fight down the panic.
"I took your boyfriend and now I'm gonna take that brat!" She growls into my ear. As she bends my head over the top rope.
My hands pull at her arms trying to get some relief, but she just applies more pressure. My hands reach out for her head, I’m pulling at her lips. Standing with legs apart for extra leverage, she starts moving from side to side, scouring my back against the ropes. I feel despair, the bitch is gonna beat me again. My arms are getting heavy. It's hard to breathe. I feel dizzy. I think of poor Leyna, trapped with that uncaring bitch. I will not lose. No Not again.
"Fuck you!"
My knee slams into her crotch. I hit the bone hard. Her mouth opens, gasping, and her hands fall to her sides as she starts to sink.
Ifuckinghaveher!
I pull her head up by the hair, straight into my fist. She collapses, she didn't have much left in her tank either.
IFUCKINGHAVEHER!
I’m on top of her now, she curls into a ball trying to cover up. I punch the back of her head. Fuck it’s hard. I roll her, throwing her arms out of the way, and then I trap them under my knees. I look into her helpless, tear-filled eyes. I hear her moaning “No…No…”. She knows what's coming and she can't stop it.
I don’t give a shit, by the time I’ve finished with her she’ll look like the elephant man.
SMACK! Forehand. This is for stripping me naked.
SMACK! Backhand. This is for all the men who groped me.
SMACK! Other hand, forehand. This is for being a shit to Leyna.
SMACK! Backhand. Because she deserves better than you!
Her head doesn't fly to the side anymore, it just lolls, flaccidly. No ejection of spit or blood, she just drools, her tongue hanging out, glassy-eyed vacant. Stupid bitch should have submitted. Too proud? I don't care. KO it is then.
Mechanically, soullessly, I just keep going and going. I start to notice the crisp smacks have turned into wet slapping sounds; my hands are covered in blood and movement below me has stopped. And more importantly, my arms feel like lead weights, I can hardly lift them.
I rise, yeah I can manage that, just. I'm so tired. My wet sports bra and shorts are plastered to my body and sweat and blood drip off me. I ache in places I didn't even know I had places. I’m covered in bruises, and my breath and heart seem loud enough to wake the dead. But Ifuckingwon! Ifuckingwon!
You hear me? IFUCKINGWON!
I look down admiring my handiwork through my puffy half-open eyes. Her white outfit is now stained red, as is her face. The bitch is gonna require some serious plastic surgery again. If I'm fucked, she's unbelievably fucked. She's so fucked that...I try to come up with a punchline, but I’m too tired. I beat her, I paid her back for the last time, and Leyna is free of her. I guess this is how Barbie felt when she was crushing my throat.
The judge bangs her gavel and announces
"The court finds for, the defendants". Hang on, defendants? Plural?
"Tony Hart and Mandy Watkins". Me?
We have custody of Leyna! Fuck! I've got custody of Leyna! I was only gonna be Tony's champion, I never intended...He did all the paperwork for the challenge...I didn’t expect…I didn't know...
Interrupting my confusion, the judge bangs her gavel,
"Court is adjourned".
The public is allowed into the arena now. I see Tony. Shit, the money.
"I'm sorry, you've lost all the money".
Tony smiled.
"We didn't"
"I thought you were betting against me. Wasn’t that the plan?".
"I tried…" he sighed. "…but someone refused to let me place that bet. She said it was wrong and she would never talk to me again if I bet against the good mummy, I had to bet on you or else she'd never, ever forgive me…".
"Daddy tried to do a bad thing…I made him stop". Leyna declared with finality.
"…we won, and we won big". Tony continued.
"How big?" I enquired.
"Very fucking big…".
"…Your odds were lousy". He smiled sheepishly.
"And custody?"
"I needed two names...I thought you'd...You don't have to..."
I let him swing like a fish on a hook, for a bit. He manipulated me and Sharon into that fight in school. Can I trust him? He dumped me after Victoria beat me. Can I forgive him?
Okay, I fuck him.
I know, I know what I said, but a girl’s got needs and he is a good shag. But the whole thing is just so...this ending just seems so like one of those crappy Hallmark Christmas movies.
Meeting me again was awfully convenient, wasn't it? Did he really not know who the assistant teacher was?
The promise of fighting me was a bloody good way to get Victoria to ditch the high-priced unbeatable champion, wasn't it?
Would you take a five-year-old with you to meet a bookie?
If I read this story on a website, would I believe it?
But if he was so damned cunning, betting all the money on me wasn't too smart. How did he know I would win? It’s almost like he was thinking with his heart, not his head. I'd like to think that when push came to shove, he couldn't bet against me, maybe he does care. Has he really changed? I know I have. But the thing is, even if it was a Machiavellian plot, I know why he did it. It wasn’t for his own gratification; it was for that little bundle of amazingness over there.
Leyna.
Fish and whistle, whistle and fish
Eat everything that they put on your dish.
And when we get through, we'll make a big wish
That we never have to do this again
Again?
AGAIN?
As I was leaving the Ring, I saw the next pair for arbitration entering: an Indian woman in a yellow tank top and green shorts and a Chinese girl wearing a punk rock T-shirt and denim shorts with fishnets. Then the Chinese woman’s face lit up with recognition, and she waved at me, smiling.
What?
"Hi!" She was definitely talking to me.
"Er..Hi?". Who the fuck are you?
She smiled.
"You don't remember the woman who saved your life, do ya?"
"I…". No I fucking don’t!
"Sharon Potter was just about to crush your windpipe and I pulled her off you." She held out her hand.
"My name's Angie".
I want to say I remembered her, but at the end of that fight, I was too fucked to remember anything. I took her hand.
"Thank you, Angie".
"You did better this time. Looks like it was one humdinger of a fight!" She looked over at everybody trying to scrape what was left of Victoria off the floor.
"I'm a professional champion now, I'm just about to kick my opponent's arse back to the Indian sub-continent". Then she smiled,
"There's someone behind you who'd like to say hello".
I turned.
I saw Sharon. Sharon Potter. The Barbie. She was smiling.
"You've changed", she said. "There's a little five-year-old girl who’s been going
around telling everybody about how wonderful you are and how you’re going to be her new mummy. Such praise, I didn’t realise at first she was talking about you".
I blushed.
"I even believe Tony is no longer a shit".
"He's getting there…"
"Are you and him?"
"Sorta".
She smiled.
"Looks like none of us are the kids we were at school".
"I'm glad, I never liked that person much anyway".
"I get it. Maybe I was right to let you live". She smirked.
"Yeah, and maybe, I was wrong to make you piss your pants". I smirked right back at her. Yeah, I did do some shitty things.
We looked at each other, we were never going to be friends. I knew that. Respect? Maybe, but I think it's relief, relief that we were no longer the people we had been and were grateful for what we had turned into.
Suddenly, five-year-old cannonballs into the conversation, to congratulate me on my win.
"You beat the poopy mummy"
I'm looking into her face, those wonderful questioning, brown eyes.
"Will you be my new mummy?" the little girl asked.
It's funny how someone can come into your life when you aren't looking for it yes and turn your life upside down yes I don't have to think about it yes I put my arms around her yes and pick her up yes so I could kiss her face yes and my heart was going like mad and fucking yes I said yes I will Yes.
Father forgive us for what we must do.
You forgive us, we'll forgive you.
We'll forgive each other till we both turn blue.
Then we'll whistle and go fishing in heaven.
We'll whistle and go fishing
In heaven.
- Fish and Whistle, John Prine.
