Christmas Carol
Carol is a bitch. There’s no other way to put it; I worked for her three years ago; I know. As I stood out in the cold, holding my bell in wearing my Salvation Army apron, I felt sorry for the entire team inside of Target, running around stocking during the most difficult time of the year, where you could get two trucks worth of items a night, who had Carol as their Team Leader. Carol was 5’8” and was a former swimsuit model, but she was just too outspoken and bitchy for that… I figured it out because she couldn’t stop talking about it all the time. In fact, you know who she looked a lot like? That woman, Stephanie Courtney, the one who plays “Flo,” from those stupid Progressive Insurance commercials; she had the pale skin, the shoulder length brown hair, and the crazy buggy blue eyes, the ridiculously shiny red lipstick… that’s who she looked like!
But like that woman, there was something about Carol that drew you in. She was bubbly, she was crazy, she was a suck-up, with so much sarcasm hidden in the sweetest voice… but if you worked for her, she was a bitch. Like I said, I used to work for her.
I never thought I’d wind up getting into a fight with Carol, even though I dreamed of beating her up when I worked at Target. She would come in and yell at us in private, but if Brian or one of the other executive team leaders was around, it was all sucking up and being nice and clapping. “You guys aren’t finished pushing the stock in Section D; let’s GO!!” she would shout. “Dana, remember to say ‘Can I help you find something?’ not ‘Do you need some help?’” or my personal favorite, “You must act in a manner that truly represents Target; we who wear the red and khaki do not present ourselves that way.” When she wasn’t around, the other team members and I would laugh so much at the things she would say. I remember her yelling at one of the guys, “Tuck your shirt in, Alex!!” and I ducked back on the aisle I was stocking and almost peed on myself from trying not to laugh too loud. She was deceptively mean.
I was trying to pay my way through college and through my mixed martial arts training by working. I have and still have a 3.7 grade point average, and my trainers were researching more grants and scholarships that I could receive, but the lore of fighting was pulling me in deeper and deeper. I used to be a fat kid when I was a child; I used to get picked on and made fun of, but I grew into a 5’8” 140 lbs with short dark brown hair and brown eyes that I hide in silver contacts. I started dying my hair black once I went goth and I got some tattoos, but I’d take the dye and contacts out and just rock the black fingernails and dark red lipstick when I worked at Target. Carol was really the boss from hell and I remember she gave us all an angry talking to because a storm made some of us late and we didn’t get our tasks done in the expected time. This was during the Christmas holidays, when we would get twice the amount of stock in one night and everyone was working at a fever pitch. I had a confrontation with her that night and told her that if she didn’t back off of us, I was going to take her in the back room and show her a few submission holds… and of course, she didn’t write me up; she just threatened to. We all came together for a prayer that she insisted we have.
“And Lord,” she said, “please help all these girls out there with all kinds of funny dye and make-up and listening to satanic music and painting their nails black. Help them to accept your word and remove the sick influence of the devil from them!! I rebuke thee, Satan!!”
Now, that went against Target policy, I’m pretty sure. I could’ve gotten her into trouble, but I just put in my two weeks notice and didn’t pay her any attention. Carol was upset that I was leaving because Carol knew how valuable we all were, but in that Machiavellian bullshit way, she would be rude to everyone and threaten to do this and that, then she’d be the nicest person in the world. She’d threaten to write you up one minute, then talk about how great a job you’re doing the next, but taking credit for everything in the Team Leader meetings. All the others bought into those tactics and politics of fear and confusion, but I didn’t. I was a fighter and a college student; I had my career and it wasn’t going to be at Target stocking shelves… no offense to the wonderful people I’ve worked with. Carol tried to explain herself to me one day, but I just ignored her. She claimed she wanted us to hate her in order to unite us and make us work harder. Yeah right; Carol was just a bitch.
After I got the grim reaper tattoo on my left arm, I quit Target and started working for the Salvation Army during my spare time. I was fighting often now; my overhand right had developed and my wrestling was the best in my camp. I was beating every girl I faced in those little cage fight clubs and when I saw myself in Women’s MMA Magazine under the heading “Who Is Dana ‘The Girlie Grim Reaper’ Black?” I nearly fainted. Mixed Martial Arts had exploded thanks to Siena Blaze and UFC owner and my ironic name buddy Dana White (though Dana White has no interest in women‘s mma), just to name two of the best promoters in the business. There were camps and fight clubs all over the world now, especially here in Los Angeles, so to be even mentioned in that magazine, with so many girls out there who no one had ever even heard of, it was phenomenal. But back to Carol…
Ray was a blonde spunky girl about 5’5” 130 lbs with blue eyes, fat cheeks and a clef in her chin. She would wear her pants low and no bra and she would tie her shirt in the back when she was working; she had a great body and despite the description, she was very, very likable. She had a tough edge, but she had a light sweet voice. She had been in and out of juvenile centers and lived with a foster family and she loved rap music and hip hop dance. Carol couldn’t stand Ray, but never wrote her up for anything and after I quit, Ray became the “target” of Carol’s bitchery. I could see her fussing at Ray during their break while I was outside ringing my bell and asking for donations. But Ray just took it; she didn’t really give a reaction other than rolling her eyes. Ray had talked to me about becoming a fighter; she had been in all sorts of fights in the juvenile detention centers she’d been in and that was understandable because she was a little cute blonde haired girl. So many folks seem to want to follow the stereotype. Ray said she wanted to learn how to really fight and we were talking outside one night after the store had closed and I had put everything up, when Carol came out.
Carol- The break is over, Ray.
Ray- Nuh uh, I have another ten minutes. It’s only been five.
Carol- Your watch must be broken, Ray Lynn, because it’s been fifteen minutes. Break is over; get inside.
Ray- It’s only been five, Carol.
Ray was rolling her shoulders and shifting her head from side to side as she spoke, giving Carol attitude. I looked at Carol and smiled.
Me- Care to make a donation to the Salvation Army?
Carol- Fuck you, Dana.
Me- Excuse me? Did I just hear you correctly?
Carol- Get inside, Ray, or else I’ll write you up. With your background, you don’t want to be fired from this job. You may never get one again. And the store is closed now, Dana. You may want to go to a rave or whatever you gothic satanic people do.
Me- You’ve got one more time to tell me that, and I’m going to ring your bell.
Ray stared at Carol, who smiled in her face and looked down at her with those big blue eyes as if she was a snake sizing up a mouse. Then, Carol subtly reached out and cupped Ray’s left breast, forcing Ray to open her mouth in shock.
Carol- Just as I thought; no bra.
Ray started inside before saying, “Carol, if you ever touch me like that again, I’ll slap you.”
And Carol pushed her from behind. Ray turned around and balled her fists up as the taller Carol put her hands on her hips and dared Ray to hit her. I really wanted Ray to punch Carol and do the one thing so many of us wanted to do, but none of us had ever done.
Ray- Carol, could I speak to you in the break room?
Carol- Don’t let your gothic quitter of a friend make you bite off more than you can chew, Ray. Don’t underestimate me; I will write you up.
Ray- Are you afraid to come with me to the break room? You like to act all tough; let’s see what you do when you’re alone.
Carol- I think you’ve got me mixed up with the wannabe White rapper you see when you look in the mirror, little girl.
Ray- I think we’re about to find out.
Ray and Carol made their way to the break room and I followed. Technically, since I no longer worked for the store, I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I had on a red shirt and khaki pants from working for the Salvation Army. I had taken my apron off and since most of the employees there had seen me from when I was working there, they didn’t pay any attention. Cameras are not allowed in break rooms and all the execs were gone; Christmas music was playing way too loudly throughout the store and as soon as we got in the break room, Ray turned around and started bouncing on her toes, with her fists raised and staring at Carol, who only smiled and pointed at her chin.
Carol- Okay, you little bitch… hit me! And if you do, you’re fired! You want to hit me so badly, go for it because you’re just a fake. There’s nothing tough about you, Ray; you’re as soft as a grape, as weak as a--unnhhh!!
Carol staggered back with a surprised look on her face as Ray hit her with a short right to her mouth. Carol touched where the punch had landed and her opened mouth with hot orange lipstick turned to a sneer of teeth too white to be real as she charged in on Ray, ducking low and tackling the blonde; the two of them slammed over a table and both got to their feet. Ray backed up and started bouncing again, but the seething Carol nailed her with a right cross to her cheek as she moved to Carol’s left.
Ray- Unnhh!
Ray stopped moving and brought her arms up and Carol hit her with another hard right cross to her temple and a submarine left to the pit of her stomach, forcing out an “Oooooh!!!” from Ray as she bent forward, just to be slung into another table, banging her side hard and making Ray yell “Aigh!!”
Carol- Kinda soft in the middle there, Ray. I wouldn’t have known looking at you; you look pretty fit and I remember you telling me you run a lot. But I guess that’s what happens when your diet consists of the trinity of fatness known as McDonald’s, Coca-Cola, and Frito Lay.
I had to admit; I was surprised and Carol smiled when she saw my facial expression and that smile got even wider when she saw Ray slowly get up, holding her side and looking at her.
Carol- What’s wrong, my little poo bear? Lacking confidence all of a sudden? You weren’t so wide eyed a few moments ago when you punched me in the face. I am going to write you up! But first, I’m going to kick your--ahhh!!!
Ray grabbed Carol by her neck and hit her with a punch under her left eye, but Carol shoved the blonde away, and even got a left to Ray’s jaw in and stepped in, hurting her with an “Uhhhhh!!” from a straight right to her solar plexus. Carol took a moment to admire her work and get her breath as she and Ray circled each other with “O Christmas Tree” by the Peanuts Gang playing in the background. I watched in disbelief as the taller Carol popped Ray with jab after jab to her chin and hurt her with an occasional winging right hand to her jaw or to her side. Ray’s eyes were showing a lack of confidence and sometimes, even when she looked like she saw an opening, she’d see Carol cock her fist back for a counter and Ray wouldn’t attack. Ray grabbed Carol by her shoulders, but Carol pulled Ray’s shirt over her head, exposing her large soft breasts with pink areolas and large nipples, her stomach, which was flat but soft, her perfectly round navel that stuck in a bit and was pierced with a ring that had miniature pink dye hanging from it, and her black g-string panties. Carol slammed her knee just below Ray’s navel and even though her head was covered by her shirt, I could hear Ray make a “mmmppphhh!!” sound as Carol easily yanked the shirt off of her.
Carol- You don’t deserve to wear this uniform, poser!
Ray looked done; her face said everything and so did her body language as Carol gave her another jab to her chin that snapped her head back and followed with another right hand to her bruising stomach, right on the navel. Carol grabbed Ray’s navel ring and Ray grabbed Carol’s wrist.
Ray- Stopppppppp!!!! You’re gonna get it infected!!!
Carol- Come on Ray!! Show me how you fought in all those juvenile detention centers you kept bragging about being in!!
Carol started punching Ray’s side with her other hand while holding the belly ring and ripped it clean out with one tug, forcing an “AHHHHH!!!!” from Ray that I’m sure wasn’t heard over the sounds of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You.” I stood with my arms folded and an angry sneer on my face as Ray took another hard shot to her jaw, almost going down with an “UNNNHHH!!!!” and sitting on the table. Carol punched Ray in both breasts with one double fisted thrust, forcing an “AIYEEE!!” from her, then pulled her off the table, threw an uppercut deep into her stomach, forcing a loud “OHHHH!!!” and threw her on the floor. Carol mounted Ray and started punching her face mercilessly.
Carol- Come on, quit!! Come on, bitch!! Quit!!
Ray- Alright!! Get off me!!
Carol- No, bitch!! Fuck you, Ray!! You’re a phony; you’re a fucking weak ass bitch who got in with the wrong crowd, went to jail and had to pretend to be tough just to fit in!! You’re soft!!
Ray- (crying) Get off meeee!!!!
I watched and waited for Carol to get off of Ray, but she didn’t. It was a fair fight and Carol had beaten Ray cleanly, but Ray had submitted and Carol wasn’t letting her up.
Me- Get off of her, Carol.
Carol- Can I help you find something, Dana? This is none of your damn business, you freaky goth bitch. If she had beaten me and she was on top beating me up, I don’t think you would get involved.
Me- I don’t care what you think. I said get off of her.
Carol got off of Ray and turned to face me. We were the same height and practically the same weight and her big deep blue eyes bore into me.
Carol- That better?
I saw the kick coming and caught it in my left hand, twisting her ankle and forcing a yelp from her as I grabbed her shirt with my right hand and lifted her up by her shirt and leg, pulling her shirt out of her khaki pants and exposing her pale stomach and deep almond shaped navel and slamming her onto one of the tables hard.
Carol- Uhhh!!
I felt the air rush from her, but she got her feet on my breasts and kicked me back, then got to her feet and came at me, but she missed the right cross and I nailed her in the side, making her wince with an “umm!” She threw a left hook at my head, but I ducked under it, nailing her in the stomach and freezing her with an “OOF!!” then backfisting her across the jaw and sending her staggering with an “UunNnhH!!!” She looked at me, touching her jaw and I could see that her desire wasn’t as much there as it was before.
Me- Hey Carol, can I help you find something? Like maybe… your dignity?
Carol- You bitch!!
She charged me and I readied myself for her next attack, but she stopped on a dime and hit my solar plexus with a right hand. The blow caught me off guard enough for her to slam an uppercut into my stomach; the blow was deep in the pit of my belly and lifted me off my feet.
Me- Ugghhh…
Carol- We’ve got a two for one special today. Beat one bitch, beat the other bitch free!!
She nailed me with a right cross to my jaw, grabbed me by my shirt and kneed me in the stomach, doubling me over with an “OUGH!!” Where did she learn to fight like this?
Carol- You know what I like? I like discounts!! Are you a bitch? Yes? Discount!! Are you a crazy gothic whore? Yes! Discount!!! Are you getting your ass kicked by your former boss? Yes!! Discount!!
Every time she said “discount,” she kneed me in the stomach. It was bad enough she looked like the Progressive Insurance woman; now, she was imitating her. Being told she looked like the woman must’ve driven her mad, but I think she was born crazy. Then she brought her arms above her head and prepared to drive down a double ax handle shot to either my back or the back of my neck. But as she came down, I dropped to my knees, grabbed her around her waist, lifted her up and slammed her on the floor.
Carol- UHHH!!!
Her eyes were swimming around in her head and I grabbed her by her collar, yanked her up and punched her in the mouth hard. Her red lipstick was blinding me. I dug an uppercut into her pale stomach and watched as her abs gave in and she let out an “oooh… oooh…” as if she had seen something disgusting. So I gave her five more uppercuts to her stomach and with every shot, she got softer and softer and she moaned like she was having sex. It was hilarious because some of the team could do a damn good impersonation of Carol and some of them would make panting noises in her voice. I hit her navel hard and her eyes widened and she went “OH!!” looking at me and I stopped. She was up against the wall staring at me and I was looking at her, seeing what she would do. She started to say something and I fired an uppercut deep into her stomach just as Dan Fogelberg‘s “Same Aude Lang Syne” was starting up.
Carol- GUUGGHHH!!!!
She dropped to her knees, clutching her stomach.
Me- What’s wrong, Carol?
Carol- No more.
Me- No more what?
Carol- You win, Dana… I can’t beat you.
Me- Tell me something I don’t know.
Ray stood next to me as we looked down at Carol.
Me- Let’s go, Ray.
Ray- I never liked working at that stupid place anyway.
Carol slowly got to her feet and watched as Ray put her shirt back on, tossed her nametag on the table, and we left. I got Ray a job with the Salvation Army and hooked her up with my fighting camp, and while I thought I would’ve heard from the police by the next evening, there I was in front of Target with my bell and my bucket, asking for donations and Carol came, not saying a word to me other than a look that had fear and defeat all over it. She puts change in the bucket every time I’m out there, but if she doesn’t put a lot in, I’m quick to order her to put more in. After all, there’s no Discount (!!) on charity.
The End
