This is my attempt at doing a bcw8 / Rough88 type of story. So yes, it will be nasty. But I wanted to do an English version, so it’s set in a pub car park behind the back of Rackham’s with drizzle.
This character started as a couple of paragraphs in my first MSE story, primarily to heighten the tension for the main character. I felt bad about what I’d put her through, so I gave her a happy ending in part 3 and now she gets her own story!
MSE 5 Sweet Revenge
Sweet revenge
Sweet revenge
Will prevail.
Without fail.
- John Prine
You wake up. It's another shit morning. Another day of shelf-stacking at Tesco’s, not a fucking cushy university life for you, no, you have to work for a living.
You turn on the telly, and it's the local news. They're reporting on the Takanakuy festival In Peru. Two local girls came out victorious, Angela Draper and...
SHARON FUCKING PISS POTS POTTER!!
You remember that skank, she was the one making googly-eyes at Tony, she called you out at prom and you beat her so bad she pissed herself, what was it they called her? Piss-pots, yeah that's
right. After that you were known as ‘Mental Mandy’ you were quite proud of that. It made sure nobody tried to mess with your man after that.
You were on top of the world until that bitch came along. She beat you so badly and then marched you around the car park naked, making sure everybody got an unobstructed view. Fuck the shame.
They show a brief clip of Sharon with her defeated opponent and what the fuck she's the spit of you! You know what’s been going on the bitch’s mind, I bet she thinks she’s coming after you!
You mentally note what you will do to her if you ever see her again. You need some stress relief.
***
I don't know why I went to the reunion.
(You know why).
The friends I care about are Cathy, and Angie I see anyway. After Takanakuy I'd seen Cath and Angie every term break, I and Cath had fallen out over that shit-bag Tony, but we made up. I had gone up to stay with her at Uni.
No sign of Mental Mandy though.
(Disappointed?)
In the crowd I saw Tony, no I didn't want to speak to him.
(Afraid of what you might say?)
I was talking to Cathy about her new job at LVM. She's not changed much, still using the F-word bloody constantly. She sprinkles that word like sugar on your cereal. Then I saw her expression go serious.
(She's behind you!)
"Hey, Piss Pots!"
Cathy and Ange close in around me. I turn around, and there she is as large as life and twice as ugly with her hands on her hips. I notice the room has gone quiet.
"I heard you got lucky and beat some stupid Yank". She said derisively.
"It wasn't dumb luck, I trained hard for it. I heard everybody got to see your smelly muff!"
She snorts, but her face turns a deep shade of red. She tried to regain the higher ground.
"Bet you think you could beat me now?"
(YES! YES! ANDIWANTTODOITSOOOBADLY!)
"Maybe," I say.
"Wanna find out?"
"Yes! " I say more assertively now.
"Not at your poncy University we’ll do it at the pub. Know the 'Plough and Partridge', it's round the back of Rackham’s?"
"Yes". No. I had no idea there was a pub around the back of Rackham's.
"Meet me there at 8.00, tomorrow." She said and then stormed off.
"This time give your muff a good trim before you show it to everybody!" I shouted after her. I was not going to show any fear.
After Mandy left, Angie took me aside “You know this is a dogfight place?”.
“Do you know what you’ve agreed to?”
“Yes!” I replied.
No, I didn't even know what a dogfight was. I found out later.
Most fights in the MSE are regulated, you agree on rules beforehand, but dogfights aren't. If you take part in one of those, injury maybe even death has been known to happen, they even invented a new category, ‘Justifiable Manslaughter’ to cover these circumstances. The loser doesn't get to walk away after a dogfight, the loser can't quit until the winner says so. Most places won't touch them, but as always, if there's money to be made...
The Plough and Partridge took advantage of the new way of doing things and made their car park into a fighting arena, they didn’t exactly invest thousands. They didn’t have to, they did dogfights, if you build it, the sleazy punters will come.
I didn't know Mandy had challenged me to a dogfight, she wanted to scare me off, but my answer was still the same.
“I don’t care. I can fight, I will beat her" I said defiantly.
"I know you can fight. I helped train you. But dogfights..." Ange continued, "...I won the last one I did, but I still had to spend a couple of days in A&E".
"I don't care, Ange, everybody thinks I'm a loser. I'll show them and I'll show her!" I wasn't backing down. This was why I came to the reunion; this is what I’d dreamed of and trained for.
***
I step barefoot onto the damp mat in the car park. It's September, and yes this is England so it’s drizzling. This is not one of those dark sultry nights in some expensive Los Angeles apartment that you read about, no this is my reality.
I could see my friends Cathy, and Angie. I thought I even saw Tony. Gawd, everybody's come to see Mental Mandy versus the Piss Pot.
The crowd is buzzing, but I can't t hear them, they don't exist. The only thing that exists for me is the woman standing before me. The woman I owe so much pain and humiliation. Pain and humiliation which I'm soon going to repay with interest.
She wearing a gold sports bra and trunks, just like she did on the night of the prom's 'Try-outs' when she...
Change the subject.
I'm wearing a different outfit from that night, a black sports bra, black cycle shorts and yes, pee pads. I don't wear yellow as I did on that night, ever.
I feel drops of water splash my face, drizzle, of course, it made my body glisten in the neon light that shone out over the car park. My damp sports bra clung like a second skin, highlighting every curve of my young breasts you could see Mandy's aureole through the wet material and her nipples stood out like two thumbs. I wore black so all you could see was my nipples challenging hers. The mist from our shallow breaths came out and hung there until it slowly dissipated back into the dark night.
I watch her step onto the mats. I’m ready for her. I'm not the kid I was at Prom night, who’d dreamed of winning the fight and winning the boy. Not anymore, I want revenge. I trained hard and this is when I prove to everybody, to myself, that I am not the little girl who peed her pants. I see her face I think she wants to get even for the beating she received from her last opponent. But no, I'm not going to let her do it. This is my revenge story, not hers. We will fight and I will win.
“Ready for your beating Piss Potts?”
“The name’s Potter, slag. Ready for everybody to see your hairy muff again?”
She goes mental after being reminded of her last defeat. Hoping to catch me out like last time She kicks for my belly. This time I expect it, I grab her leg, and catch the look of amazement, then fear
on her face. I bring my elbow down on her knee.
She cries out. Good
I repeat the move, she cries out again.
I throw her to the ground, and she hits the mats.
I move in and kick her in the belly, and she bends in pain. I kick again this time to the head.
Goal!
I move in to kick her again, but she rolls into my legs, wrapping her arms around my feet, I struggle to free them, but no, she sends me over. I land with my arse on the mat. I kick at the bitch's
head, she tries to deflect my legs, but I manage to get my legs around her head and squeeze, she gasps, her wet face turning red. She reaches out with her hands pushing my sports bra up baring my boobs. Then she goes for my breasts, clawing, digging her nailed fingers into my breasts. Bloody Hell!
She rakes her hands across my breasts, I stifle a sob as I see those red lines appear on my breasts, as I feel the stinging pain. She starts cackling, and then her thumb and forefinger go for the nipples. This time I don't stifle the sobs.
I resist the urge to grab at her hands and instead swing for her face with my fists. Her face slams to the left but the cow won’t release her claw. I swing for her nose. I see the blood spray, feel it showering my face. She screams releasing the claw and I kick her off with my feet.
She rises holding her nose. I’m already up with my fists raised. My sports bra is still around my neck, with my boobs uncovered. Stuff it, I don't have time to cover up and adjust my clothing.
"Come on, mangy muff!" I call out. No, I'm not going to use the C-word.
I move towards her, and she swings, I duck and launch an uppercut into her flabby belly. She moans and bends.
I swing at her head, and she moves out of the way, I swing into empty air. She does a one-two combination to my body. That hurt. Stuff it I say, I'm gonna get that dirty tart, as I uppercut her left hooter, and it launches out of the cup, jiggling like jelly.
Then I give it a left and right cross, and the wet rain sprays off the breast. She puts the jug mugging to an end with an uppercut to my belly. I grunt in pain and move back.
She hobbles after me, trying to cover the dangling boob up. I put an end to that by kicking her in the guts. She gasps, bending over and holding her stomach, I raise my fists and bring them down onto her back.
(Like that? Try this...)
I raise my fists for another blow, to drive her down to the mat. Her fist shoots up into my face, my face explodes in pain and blood, and I scream.
She stares at me, the blood from her nose has mixed with the rainwater to mingle into her teeth. Dunno what I looked like, but she looks a sight, one battered boob hanging out of her sports bra, her wet blonde hair plastered to her face. The rain drips off her body which shines in the neon light of the car park. Her breath comes out in wispy clouds. She snarls at me as I hold my nose.
"I'm not losing to a little shit like you!"
(Funny that's what I thought)
I gesture her forward.
"Oh yeah?" I growl.
I felt good. She hadn't beaten me like last time and I hurt her, oh yes, I hurt her, look at her limp. I had never wanted to hurt someone as much as I wanted to hurt her now.
She shuffles forward, and I swing a haymaker at her face, she blocks it and swings an uppercut into my belly. I feel my innards twisting and my mouth opens in a soundless scream, drool falls from my mouth.
I twist my body, my knee slams into her stomach. That drives her back.
We both stare at each other on unsteady legs, clutching our bellies.
"Bitch!" Her wet slap rocks my head back!
"Cow!" my backhand knocks her back two steps".
"Fucking kill you!" She screams. With another blow to my head, everything blurs.
"Whore" I uppercut her chin, her head sails backwards, and her two feet strain to hold her up.
She moves back, then giving a low animal growl dives into me, wrapping her arms around my waist and driving me to the ground, near the edge of the mats.
I get my legs around her waist and start squeezing, she gasps, and I tighten my hold trying to break her in half. She starts ripping at what's left of my top, pulling it off, and then she wraps it around my neck and pulls. I feel the material cut into my throat, I gasp and tighten my legs; they start to tremble. In return, she twists the top around my neck, and my heavy breathing turns to faint gasps.
I look into her face, her teeth bared, the crazy look in her eyes. I'd seen that look before when she battered me to my knees at the prom.
(NO!)
I twist my body slamming her head onto the mat, she holds her grip, and I can feel myself weakening, getting dizzy. Then I realise where we are, how close to the end of the mats we are. I move and slam her head again, this time into the hard asphalt of the car park! She screams and releases her stranglehold before I bash her bloody brains out. I see that gash on her forehead, that's gonna need stitches. Good.
She rises, snarling, I rise, coughing and hurriedly throw my top as far away as I can into the crowd.
She touches her bloody forehead tenderly; she feels the pain and sees the blood on her hands.
"You pay for this; you'll be pissing blood this time by the time I've finished with you!”.
(ICANDOTHIS, ICANDOTHIS, PLEASE GOD ICANDOTHIS!)
She grabs my hair with both hands, and I grab hers we are both swinging, trying to trip the other. I kick out with my feet at the knee I busted, she cries out but is still standing. She releases her hand and slaps me hard.
"Bitch! "
I return the compliment. You can hear the wet smacking sound.
"Tart".
I pull her hair straight up, giving her a free facelift. Our faces are just inches away from each other, she's cursing me calling the f-word and the c-word. Potty-mouth. She swings her hand at me, not a slap but a claw, I feel the blood on my cheeks, I cry out and grab her hand pushing it away, but she wants It back to shred my face.
It was just the two of us now, locked in this duel. The crowd was silent just our grunts and moans. You could see the moisture from our breaths, the sweat on her face or is it the rain? Christ, when did it start to rain?
All I can see is her clawed hand, those nails and I think of what Angie said about dogfights, a part of me was terrified, but a part of me was excited at the thought of doing that to her.
I bend her wrist back and aim a kick at the knee I elbowed earlier. She cries out,
(YES!)
She moves her hand out of my grasp and returns it to my hair.
She pulls me to the right by the hair. I slip on the wet matting. She jumps on top with a joyous whoop, at the same time throwing off what's left of the sports bra. Her fun bags are around my face and then she swings her body and then I'm being pummelled by her hooters. It's like being hit by boxing gloves. I try to move my face, but I can't escape the pounding, the blows are coming from everywhere.
She pauses, then puts her hand around the back of my head, cradling it, then lowers those hooters over my face. I feel I'm going to puke as the sweaty flesh encases my nose, my mouth...
"Sleep tight little pissy" she utters triumphantly, playing to the audience.
The wet flesh forms a perfect seal around my breathing passages. I'm starting to panic; she's going to suffocate me and then she can do whatever she wants.
"Mmmmmttthhhh" is all I can manage as her flesh is engulfing me!
She starts humming, singing to herself as she moves and adjusts herself trying to get that perfect seal. I picture one of those nature documentaries, a python gradually smothering its victim. The poor thing struggles but it cannot stop what we know is coming.
I'm feeling dizzy, it's get t1 ng h 4r d t 0 t h 1 n k…
My gag reflex wakes me as her oozing flesh invades my mouth.
(WAITAMNUTE!!)
"AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGH!"
The cow screams as I munch down on her tit flesh. It tastes salty at first, then I get iron as my teeth punctures her flesh.
She rears back, screaming, I move with her, I’m not letting go. I grab her nipple with my hand and cram as much of it as I can manage into my greedy mouth and chow down harder, I taste the blood. She screams and pleads. I’m really chewing down now; I imagine a juicy steak. I never dreamed I could do something like this to another human being, but I am and I'm loving it! She thought she was scaring me with the dogfight challenge, with what she could do to me. The idiotic slag never thought about what I wanted to do to her.
I see her open her mouth and then.
(THEPAIN!)
The dirty cow is biting my bloody neck! I feel the pain, but I don't let it stop me. We are chewing on each other like hungry starving cannibals, blood is foaming around both of our mouths. This is savage and primal, both of us are determined to destroy the other as we roll on the wet matting. I'm determined it will be me, but she was devouring my neck!
(ARTERIES!)
I grab onto her hair it strains and snaps, but she won't let me go. I feel the terror rising.
(OHMYGOD, is she going to kill me?)
My hands claw at her face, going for the bitch's eyes. She shuts them as I press hard into her eyeballs. The terror is taking control.
(SHEWANTSTOKILLME!)
I launch my knee hard between her legs. There is a dull thud and I feel the pain shoot through her body. The cow is still biting, hanging on for grim life. I raise my knee again and feel the second thud, but this time I grind my knee in, I want to destroy it.
She screams releasing her bite. She falls sobbing to her knees, her hands in her crotch to soothe her poor little muff.
I jump to my feet, fearful of what I might find, I touch my neck, and my fingers are covered in blood. I scream, she's still on the floor, nursing her crotch. I kick her in the face, and she showers the wet mat with saliva, puke, blood and a tooth.
I jump on top of her, sending her to the floor, my knees on her arms. With my left hand, I stick my fingers around her left breast, the one I chewed, and pull her up into the kill zone.
I wind my right hand back as far back as it will go.
"YOU."
I slap her face with a forehand, it crashes into the side of her, slamming her into the asphalt, and a mixture of blood and saliva burbles out of her mouth.
"...COWING..."
I slap her again with a backhand, as I squeeze the blood out of her chewed breast. She's just babbling now.
"...SLAG!"
My hand forehands her again, then I drop her like the turd she is. The cow is still burbling, blood coming out of her mouth like a fountain.
Finish this, I think, finish her.
I kneel, putting my knee over her windpipe and coldly, deliberately, I crush it. I bounce my leg for extra pressure. Soundlessly she gasps for air, her hands flail spastically, and I see the light in her eyes dying along with all movement.
Justifiable Manslaughter, I think, maybe community service, that's all I’ll get, it would be worth it.
(IMGONNAKILLHER! IMGONNABLOODYKILLHER!)
Just a few twitches now.
"SHARON STOP!"
I feel arms around me, it's Angie lifting me off my unconscious opponent. In the far-off distance, I hear some boos coming from the crowd.
"Don't do it, Sharon, it's something you can't come back from".
The bloodlust is starting to fade as I realise what I have done. I’m operating on fumes now. I hurt, oh God I hurt, but still…
(MYGODIDIDIT! IDIDIT!)
Just one more thing. I slowly pull off her trunks, and I walk, barely, to the nearest puddle. It seems miles away. I can do it. I throw her trunks into the nearest puddle, stamping on the trunks to get them really sopping wet. I hope she didn’t bring spare clothes.
"Enjoy the ride home, you slag!".
Cathy stands there with her phone.
"Shaz, want a picture? We can do it before the ambulance comes."
Before taking the picture, Angela comes over and brushes my sodden hair out of my face.
"I have my first aid kit with me, I'll sort your neck out after the picture. She didn't get the Carotid artery, amateur!" she snorts.
Sometimes Angie scares me.
I pose for a picture proudly holding up Mandy's head by the hair and pointing. This is the Prom picture I never had. I'm not the little girl who peed her pants anymore.
(IFEELSOHIGHSOGIDDYOHMYGODIDIDIT!)
I see him come out of the crowd, Tony.
"Oh my god Sharon, you were so hot!“
An old song comes into my head.
You're so vain,
You probably think this fight was about you,
You're so vain, so vain.
I betcha think this fight is about you,
Don't you? Don't you?
He's come to congratulate the winner the alpha female. Give the winner a good seeing to with his mighty love truncheon. He likes to see women fight over him. He likes the winners. Cathy was right. He is a turd. It was never about him. It was about honour. My honour. I look at him. I think about how I used to feel about him. Now I feel... nothing. I struggle to remember why I felt the way I did about him. I was crazy about him. Why? I want a boyfriend. I want to have sex after all. But I know I don't need one. All these thoughts. All these words. I'm struggling to find the right ones.
Then I do.
Three words.
No apologies.
"Tony, Fuck Off!"
