041 MSE 7 The Cripple Cart Cowgirl Catfight.
It all started when I got the crap beaten out of me by that sassenach. That's life under the MSE, the idea is that challenges are sorted out by physical combat between women. This Englishwoman and I fought for an Internship on an ocean mapping vessel, I know most people would have fought NOT to go, but there you go, and I lost. I found out later that there was betting on the result, and I was the underdog, nobody expected me to last five minutes, hell I didn't think I'd last five minutes, but I really made her work for it, and it lasted a lot longer than five minutes.
Then I met Emma, and everything changed, we bonded when I wandered, beat up, into the student bar and we bonded over a John Prine karaoke song, I shit you not. She called me her little beat-up panda, and she became my friend and then my lover. There was just one thing, she was in a wheelchair, a car crash when she was younger took away her parents and her legs. But she studied hard and became a pharmacologist, whatever that is. Although we love each other we don't have much time for each other's jobs, she has never met a differential equation she likes (I'd make a joke about it, but maths puns are the first sine of madness!), while all I hear is medical babble...medical babble...blood...puss...oxy-hydro-mero-bullshit-ine...more medical babble...
When I got the job at LVM studying Fluid Dynamics, I'd made a beeline for the biotech program for regrowing injured limbs, and by hook and by crook I got her on the trials, it helps when the Bio-tech division is on the same campus as you. Some stem cell techniques could get the body to repair itself. Medical babble, medical babble, Emma had looked at the method and said it seemed highly promising.
Things were looking good.
Then she got challenged, feck.
Another girl wanted her place on the trial. She reckoned the only reason Emma was next in line was 'A' for Emma Amos as opposed to 'B' for Pamela Beasley. Pam wanting to walk again challenged Emmy for the last test place. This being the MSE there was gonna be a fight. I would be Emmy's champion, so show me whose arse I'm gonna kick.
We had to go to an arbitration, it was something the researchers had instituted to avoid fights. The idea was that you discussed your issues and come to a non-violent solution.
The other woman, Pam, was wheeled in by her dad, she was a brown-eyed bronde-haired girl, with Emms' grapefruit-sized breasts. I found out later her mom had died 10 years ago from a brain aneurysm, so it was just her and her dad. She looked…pleasant. She wasn't the one I was gonna have to fight, shame, 'cos I reckoned legs or no legs, I could've taken her easy.
The discussions didn't go too well, two women, one place. So, me and her Dad started discussing who would be our champions. Her Dad said he knew someone who would be her champion, so I put myself forward for Emmy. But maybe I could get a professional champion through LVM.
"No!"
Two voices rang out. Emma and Pam had been talking.
"This is between me and Pam. No champions. One of us is not going to be walking away from this, literally. We have to do this ourselves". Emmy said.
"We have to settle this between the two of us", her opponent chimed in.
What the feck?
I looked at her dad who looked as surprised as me.
Emmy looked at Pam determinedly.
"The Cripple Cart Cowgirls?"
What the feck is that?Pam nodded, "Meet you there! I'm gonna win my place on that trial".
"Not you're not, that's my place, and I'm gonna win,".
"No, you're not".
"Yes, I am".
There was no anger, no trash talk, just calm and deliberate.
When we got home.
"EMMY, WHAT THE ACTUAL FECK!" I asked despairingly.
She looked at me holding my hands and squeezing ever so gently. "Listen Cyn....Somebody's always been a champion for me. Like when you beat the shit out of Wendy".
"Gobshite" I corrected.
"Gargantua and Titania" She corrected, smiling.
"I needed you for that because she could walk and I can't. I hated that you had to deal with all that pain, because I couldn't. But there's only one place on the trial, and my opponent is the same as me. I've no excuses, this is on me".
"But Emmy you've never been in a fight before".
"Neither has she. Look, we both came to the conclusion that we couldn't let anyone else choose our destiny. We have to do it ourselves, no champions fighting for us this time…".
"…I have to fight my own battle. You understand?" Emmy turned to me.
"No!"
Yes, of course, I understood.
I fought the sassenach not because I thought I would win, but because the alternative was to do nothing and give up. If I could have had someone else who would have won the fight for me I wouldn't have done it, why? Because I hadn't earned it. I got what she was talking about, but I was still afraid for her, what if she lost? What if she got hurt?
But I had to let her do this and clean up the pieces after.
Now about those Cripple Cart Cowgirls.
The name was intended post-modern-ironically, in an attempt to reclaim that name, y'know like rappers using the N-word. They were a charity, founded by Gloria Martin, one of the greatest champions England ever produced. After a climbing accident, which broke both her legs, Gloria realised how 'unhelpful', putting it mildly, most places were for disabled duellists. Most fight arenas were up a block of steps. It was as though everybody assumed you were a disabled person so you couldn't fight. What shite! So, with the money she had earned, she set up a charity that enabled those differently abled women to settle their differences, themselves.
The arena was on the ground floor. A square room, ten feet square. Automatic sliding doors ( think about it, sliding fecking doors! None of this having to open the doors, then run around the back of the wheelchair and push her through before the doors shut shite) on opposite sides for the duellists to come out from. The third side was a small viewing area that could only fit six people. The Cripple Cart Cowgirls didn't believe in large audiences. A duel was to be witnessed by a small non-paying audience; they did not want to attract the 'freakshow' crowd.
We wheeled out both women as instructed and positioned them so that their legs were interleaved. The two chairs were as close as they could be. We heard a click as they locked on their brakes.
The women could not retreat from each other now, their fates were intertwined.
"Okay, ladies prepare yourselves to duel".
Emmy removed her glasses and handed them to me.
Then she unbuttoned her shirt, her fingers trembling. Then reaching behind, undid her bra. I took the clothes. Pam was doing the same with her dad. I was doing my best to remain professional as I looked at my beautiful Emmy's half-naked body. Knowing what was going to happen to his daughter, and what she would have to do, I assumed her father was going through a difficult time too. I would have done anything to take her place, but I couldn't, it was her fight. God, I felt the butterflies in my stomach, the fear, the helplessness. I so hoped my baby would win.
Before I left, I spoke to Emmy.
"Fuck her up good, Ems, like I did the Gobshite".
She nodded bravely as she put the tight gloves on. Didn't see why they had 'em, not MMA gloves, not boxing gloves, but it was a required item.
"I'll try". It sounded plaintive; my heart shot into my mouth
I blew her a kiss.
Our jobs done, Pam's father and I walked off through the sliding doors and took our place in the viewing gallery. It was just me and her father. The doors shut behind us, sealing us in. The room was soundproofed, one-way glass, the fighters could not hear or see us, no distractions, but we would be able to hear and see them.
We looked around awkwardly, what were supposed to do, sit next to each other? Sit on opposite sides of the room?
A dark-haired pleasant-looking woman in a smart shirt, trousers and of course a lanyard walked in.
"Hello", she said "I'm Moira. I'm your counsellor for this duel"
She sat down in the centre of the seats. She looked round at both of us.
"If you two could just sit either side of me".
She smiled, expecting compliance. We sat down as instructed.
"This is your first cowgirl duel, for both of you, correct?"
Pam's father and I both nodded.
"Look, cowgirl duels are different. In a 'normie' duel you move about, in these duels the competitors are locked together, with no escape, they are locked in their duel until one of them is defeated.
Both in its nature and in this case the stakes, we expect the action to get...intense. My job is to make sure you don't kill each other, and also to counsel you if you get...disturbed by what you see happening to your loved one...".
"...and what you see her do to her opponent".
"Our overriding aim is to ensure that cowgirls can have their duels, without suffering permanent damage, while also making sure they resolve their disagreements...conclusively".
Over in the arena, the girls stared determinedly at each other. Pam broke the silence.
"That position on the trial is mine. I want to walk down the aisle with my father".
Emmy just sat there.
"Bring it".
The referee put her hands on both lady's shoulders and spoke.
"Okay ladies catfight rules, but no maiming, killing or biting..."
"...for instance, eye jabs are okay, eye gouging forbidden... "
"...If we tell you to 'Release' stop what you are doing ...
" ...if you do not do it, the offender will forfeit the fight. "
" ...The winner will be decided by submission, knock-out or if you can tip your opponent out of the wheel-chair".
"Emma Amos, are you ready to fight?"
"Yes".
"Pamela Beasley, are you ready to fight?"
"Yes".
Neither woman had answered assertively. My heart knotted, my baby had never done anything like this, but neither had her opponent. There was only one place available for the trial, the cure, this would decide who would get it. I prayed it would be my Emmy.
"Okay on my command..."
She walked away from the two fighters. Even in the viewing gallery, behind the plexiglass, we could feel the tension the girls were emanating. Emmy was licking her lips repeatedly to fight the dryness in her mouth. Pam was breathing heavily. Their heavy but upright breasts gently rose and fell with each breath. Their nipples hardened, either out of fear or in anticipation of the upcoming battle.
"Okay let's get this party started" Moira said.
The referee tossed a coin into the air.
"Call it!"
Emmy hesitated; Pam spoke first.
"Tails"
The referee looked at the coin.
"Heads it is, Emma Amos you go first".
Emmy raises her hand; I could see it shaking.
"Slap!"
The slap sounds like a gunshot; Pam's head snaps to the side an angry red hand-print on her face. With a big smile on her face, Pam tidies her hair and composes herself, her turn, she raises her arm.
"Slap!"
Emmy's head rocks back. Her face red, and without pausing to compose herself, she slaps Pam back nearly instantly,
"Slap!"
Pam leans over, again smiling, then lightly
"Tap, tap"
"Slap, Slap"
Emmy fires back two hard slaps a forehand and a backhand. Pam's cheeks glow red, she moves her neck stretching it and examines her cheeks with her tongue.
Pam angrily raises her hand in retaliation, then lowers it. Then.
"Slap! Slap!".
Emmy fires back, two slaps in succession with the same hand.
"Slap! Slap!".
Pam fires a forehand and a backhand.
"Slap! Slap!"
Emmy responds just as hard.
For a split second, they angrily glare at each other. Then at once, they start exchanging stinging slaps to each other's faces. Back and forth, in syncopation, the sound of skin upon skin fills the room, accompanied by an undercurrent of weeping, as the fighter's faces redden with the impact of their opponent's strikes. Both girls' eyes are watering, and a dribble of blood starts to trail down from Pam's lips. With each slap, Pam grunts, followed by a low moaning sound from Emmy, then Emmy grunts and it's Pam's turn to moan as if they are performing a call-and-response duet.
The fury of the slapping reaches a crescendo, Pam, in a pique of rage, abruptly ends the impasse, she thuds a fist into Emmy's stomach. Emmy gasps. My hand tightens around Moira's.
"Shit!" I cry out.
Emmy's eyes look like they would burst out of her face, and drool runs down her mouth, as she bends over in pain. Pam slaps little Emmy's face, and it crashes to the side, I wince in sympathy. Emmy's head bobs as Pam, smiling, leans over and holds Emmy up by the chin, toying with her, her arm raised for the slap, then she swings, and Emmy's head crashes back into the chair, stunned.
The shite picks Emmy up by the chin again, preparing for the next blow which never comes as Emmy grabs at the fingers bending them back, at a sharp angle, Pam cries out in pain.
Emmy's fist shoots out for Pam's belly; twisting her fist trying to scramble Pam's innards, then as the shite bends over in pain, Emmy punches straight into Pam's face. The collision of Emmy's fist with Pam's nose is audible, and the copious flow of blood is almost immediate. Pam's nose and mouth are painted with blood, and her head drops into her lap, blinded by the most devastating pain she's ever felt in her life.
Beside me, I hear her father gasp, squeezing Moira's hand hard as well.
Preparing to finish her off, Emmy raises both hands above her head, clasping together, she brings them down in the shape of an axe handle, splintering Pam's back.
"I'm gonna beat you so bad, even your daddy won't fuck you!" Emmy crows.
Pam screams in agony, suddenly bringing up the back of her head, and it smashes into Emmy's face. Blood erupts.
"AIDS-riddled rug muncher! " Pam snarls.
Moira turns to both of us.
"Things get said and done in the heat of battle, we call it the 'Red Mist'". She smiles apologetically.
Both women stare at their bloody foe, startled at the damage. Blood drips from Pam's face onto her trousers, while the blood from Emmy's nose covers her face, mixing with the sweat. Both women stare at each other determinedly. They both know how it will end. I don't think it will end on a submission. Not with these stakes. I just didn't think…
Then they start again.
Their hands slowly begin to entangle as they begin pushing and tugging in an attempt to exert pressure on their opponent. Getting her hand free, Emmy slaps Pam's back, making a wet smacking sound. Pam pulls Emmy's head hard to the side and slaps the side of her face. They wrestle, Emmy trying to twist Pam's arm behind her back, Pam trying to get Emmy in a headlock, their arms moving like slippery snakes.
Emmy manages to get hold of Pam's head and starts pounding it into the headrest of Pam's wheelchair.
"Fuck" SLAM! Emmy screams.
"Off" SLAM!
"And Die!" Double slam!
As Emmy lifts Pam's head for another slam, Pam knows she has to do something anything. The armrests are not made of metal, but her brain is still scrambled, and she has a cut open over her eye. She can't take much more of this.
Suddenly Pam punches through Emmy's legs straight into her fud, and she screams.
"FUUUUUCCCCCKKKKK!"
I wince and sob, seeing what she had done to my lover. Her father crosses his legs and looks horrified at his daughter acting like a dirty street whore.
Emmy drops Pam's head as her body spasms in agony.
Then the dirty slut punches again, the screaming Emmy panics, and blindly lashes out, punching Pam's chin, jerking her head back, she's seeing stars, as she sways barely managing to sit upright.
Angrily, Emmy slaps Pam back into her seat, mushing her face for extra encouragement.
The two fighters break apart. They stare at each other, their bodies covered in sweat, blood and bruises, as they gasp to get air into their exhausted lungs. My lover clutches at her crotch trying to massage her pain away while Pam, tries to clear her head. Neither are in a state to attack immediately. Emmy touches her hand to her face and looking down she sees the angry red handprints, marks and pain covering her once pristine body. She touches the warm redness of the wounds with amazement. She starts to cry softly and then, with increasing volume, like a drizzle that rapidly turns into a cloudburst. Across from her, Pam, affected by Emmy's unexpected weeping, also starts sobbing.
The referee moves forward.
"No!" Emma says.
"No!" Pam echoes.
Then the crying stops, and they pull themselves together, realising where they are and what is at stake. They both realise this is a fight to the finish, the only way to stop the hurt is to hurt the other bitch more. Slowly, Pam holds out her hands, almost like she's asking permission to touch Emmy's beautiful breasts. Emmy licks her lips; she nods slightly and rests her hands on Pam's breasts.
Then they start squeezing.
Pam slams Emmy into her chair by the breasts, pancaking then reversing the move, pulls her away from her chair by them, stretching them taut, then slams her back into the chair, then repeats the cycle.
Emmy pushes Pam's breasts flat, pushing them apart. her thumbs pressing into the nipples as if trying to drive them into her heart.
I stifle a sob as I watch helplessly, those beautiful breasts which I had caressed and kissed getting mangled beyond all recognition. I look at her father, it's hard for him to see what is happening to his daughter too.
Pam pulls Emmy off the chair by her breasts again. Her hands approach Emmy's eye level. Emmy's eyes open in horror as sees how her breasts are being mangled.
"Whore, I'm gonna tear them off, I'm gonna..."
SMACK!
Emmy's hands slam together with Pam's head in the middle. I hope she shatters the bitch's ear drums.
Emmy slams a left hook into Pam's left breast, then the right one, her fist disappearing into the mounds. Determined to stop the attack, Pam, growls like a wild animal and starts clawing and tearing at Emmy's face, neck and breasts, although gloved, they still leave angry red marks on Emmy's wonderful breasts. Screaming, Emmy attacks like she is trying to tear chunks out of Pam's body.
"See why we made them wear gloves, now?" Moira asks. I nod.
Pam fish-hooks Emmy's mouth. Emmy retaliates with equally deadly intent, sticking her fingers into Pam's nostrils and pulling trying to rip open the bloody nose, but her fingers slip, and snarling, she digs her thumbs into Pam's eyes. Pam screams in alarm.
"Release!" the referee commands. Eye pokes were only allowed.
"It's a three-second rule before an eye jab becomes a gouge" Moira whispers.
Emmy finally regains some of her composure, looks over at Pam who is also pulling herself together, and says, her voice trembling.
"You ready to finish it?"
She was still fighting. Go on love, finish the bitch!
Pam swallows hard,
"Yes".
Emmy's hand shoots out for Pam's throat.
"Gurck!".
As Pam gasps her hand goes for Emmy's throat. Emmy closes in with her other hand and Pam responds the same. Maintaining their choke holds on each other. This is the war now; the winner will choke the loser unconscious, and the loser lose her chance to walk again. Emmy is digging her thumbs into Pam's windpipe while gasping for the air that Pam's grip is choking off.
They both tighten their grip, but I can see Emmy's fingers moving with a deadly purpose. Oh, did I mention Emmy did physiology? Yeah, she knew the best way to strangle someone. Oh yeah was she doing it? She was crushing her! Go girl!
Pam's tongue is lolling uselessly out of her purple face. She pulses her grip on my baby's throat and Emmy gasps. Both women strain to choke the other out, their skin glistening with blood and sweat. Emmy curses and digs in deeper. The two continue their struggle, determined to end the other, their gasps and curses echo around the observation room we sit in.
Then Pam breaks.
Her hands release Emmy's throat and start slapping at her face. Emmy won't stop her grim task and continues to throttle Pam, banging Pam's purple head against the seat of her wheelchair. Pam's slaps and punches are getting increasingly hysterical, and her cries and moans are more and more desperate, as she tries to stop the inevitable. My baby is winning!
Emmy's eyes are closed, her bloody teeth bared in a snarl, as the blood and sweat from her triumphant face drip on Pam's panic-stricken features, I could see the shite going faint, the end would be coming for her soon.
"I'll fucking dance on your fucking grave with my new fucking legs, you fucking piece of shit!" Emmy proclaims.
"Come on Ems, you got her, baby!" I mutter. I look at her father, choking back tears. "Please God...Please God..." he repeats like a prayer.
Moira starts explaining how as soon as one combatant is unconscious, the referee would move in before damage set in, they were well-trained, but it had to be conclusive.
"Thud!"
Like a bolt from the blue, one of Pam's flailing fists hits Emmy's square in the temple. It sounds like a dull thud, stunned, Emmy's head falls back, unconscious. No! My Emmy is lying against her chair, eyes shut, mouth open, still.
"EMMY!" I cry out, choking back the tears.
Stillness.
Pam sits back in her chair, exhausted, coughing, trying to get air into her aching lungs. Then slowly, it dawns on her what she has done. Carefully, curious, she leans over and moves Emmy's senseless head from side to side with no resistance.
"It's over, Pamela Beasley is the winner. Now you can go to your partners". Moira says as the sliding doors slide open.
"Dad!" she calls out.
" ...Daddy, I—I've won!"
"Princess!"
Pam's dad blurts out with joy, relief, and love on his face as he holds his daughter, they both dissolve into tears, as he rocks her gently in his arms.
I race out to hold Emmy, waiting for her to come around, to comfort her. I know the concussion would do no damage, the blow had not been strong enough and concussion treatments have moved on enormously since it started happening to football stars.
She opened her eyes, the red mist had lifted, and my little Emmy was back,
"Cyn...She beat me".
"She was fecking lucky is all". I replied.
"But I'm not on the trial, I may never walk again".
"I didn't fall in love with you 'cos I thought you'd win the London Marathon. I'm afraid you're stuck with me as the consolation prize, forever".
She looked up at me, tears in her eyes, "You mean forever and ever and ever?"
"Yep, forever and ever and ever AND EVER", I said as I tried to kiss her tears away.
I looked over at Pam's father holding his crying daughter. Our tear-stained eyes met, and as he held his sobbing daughter in his arms, he mouthed.
"I'm sorry".
When we got back home Emma cried, she cried a lot. I tried telling her I still loved her and when the treatment got licenced, she could take it, and she wouldn't have to wait long, I promise. It didn't help.
Did I tell you about my dreams of standing, looking out of the Aurora Borealis, with Emma by my side? It looked like it would never happen, never did believe in miracles, but… I so wanted this to happen. Yeah, I damned Pamela Beasley to hell. Be careful what you wish for...
I got to overhear about how she was doing. The biotech lab is on the same campus as me after all. No, it wasn't bitter twisted morbid curiosity at all. The way I heard it, the first couple of weeks of the trial were wonderful. Pam started to regain the strength in her legs. She was starting to walk again. She was making plans for her future.
One night, she joked with her dad about how he could now walk her down the aisle, that is, once she got a boyfriend.
And then she went to bed and never woke up.
Aneurysm.
Emmy explained it to me. I didn't understand a word. She's the medical one, remember? She'd read all the reports on the death, they knew what had caused it. It wasn't the fight; it was the trial, they concluded. Emma said they knew how to fix it.
So, when the researchers phoned, with a spare slot, that had suddenly opened up, she said yes, knowing they'd corrected the problem. Everything went smoothly and funnily enough, there were no challenges this time.
Later, we went to Pam's funeral. We hadn't been invited, but Emmy wanted to go, she said she felt sorry for the father, he'd lost his wife and now his daughter. She thought it was important that she was there for him, and I think for her as well.
People came up to the lectern and shared their memories of her. We listened to what they said.
Pam sounded like a really nice person. Okay, yeah, I've never heard of a bad person who died at a funeral. A load of people spoke about her; how she loved to draw, her favourite flowers were Yellow, and white chrysanthemums and red roses, she loved Indian food, and had visited the Taj Mahal, she taught primary school and loved to do a cool thing with a fire extinguisher where she'd put it on her lap, activate it. She'd have rocket-powered cripple cart races, her phrase.
Emmy insisted on speaking, I said no but she wouldn't listen. I wheeled her up to the lectern, she cleared her throat and started.
"Hello, my name is Emma"
"Last time I saw Pamela, she was trying to rip my tits off".
Nervous laughter.
"Then again, I promised to dance on her grave".
More nervous laughter.
"Bad choice of phrase, sorry". Emma smiled sheepishly.
"We fought for a place on the trials, and she won. But if I had won, she would have been going to my funeral".
"Turns out the treatment we fought so hard for, will produce brain aneurysms. Who would have thought it, a treatment for your legs produces effects on the brain? I guess that's why it's a trial. It won't do it at once, it's like a ticking time bomb. It just sits in your brain and then 'pop!' ". She gestured an explosion with her hands. "However, Pamela had a genetic susceptibility because of her mother. So, with her, the effects were more immediate. Everybody on the trial had the same ticking time bomb but because of her we've been able to defuse the bomb, to save them, save them all, including me".
"I owe Pamela my life. She lives on through me and I promise every day to make sure that her sacrifice will be worth it".
I saw the tears in her dad's eyes. After the funeral, he came over and thanked her for coming.
Then she stood up and hugged him. Okay, she had to sit down pretty damned quickly because he was essentially holding her up, but she had made the point that the trial was working.
"Arthur, look, I can never replace your daughter. But the same accident that took away my legs, took away my mum and dad, Cynthia's my only family now".
She looked at the ring she was wearing on her hand.
"You see me and Cyn... "
"...I need someone to walk me down the aisle..."
"...I could never replace Pam but I'm hoping you could..."
"Yes" was all he said.
It's something unpredictable
But in the end, it's right
I hope you had the time of your life
- Green Day
Yeah, I know it's not John Prine and I know what the song is about, but the mood of that song blasting out of the ship's speakers just seemed so appropriate. We are where I always dreamed we would be.
We're on the Prince Madog, a shite name I know. I pulled some strings at Bangor University and offered to analyse their stats and the services of a pharmacologist, in exchange for a free honeymoon cruise.
We stood by the rails and scattered some Yellow and White Chrysanthemums and Red Roses into the water, and I recited an Indian poem I'd looked up on the Internet.
"Leave me in peace
And I shall leave you in peace
And while you live
Let your thoughts be with the living".
"I think it's lovely what you did for him". I spoke. "He loved giving you away".
"Who said it was for him?", she replied, with a sad smile on her face.
"It wasn't just for him. He lost his wife, his daughter, he lost his whole family. I know how it feels. I lost my family as well. And I wanted... Also, I owed Pam…something. She wasn't a bad person; she didn't deserve what happened to her.".
I didn't say, "Despite how she beat you with that lucky punch?". You don't speak ill of the dead, but my Emmy was slaughtering her, it was such a fluke shot.
"Y'know sometimes...winning the fight isn't winning, It's like with you if that English girl Cathy hadn't beat the shit out of you. We would have never…I would never, have met my little panda". She smiled at me. "And if Pam hadn't gotten lucky, we would never have known about the side-effects, until I died of a brain aneurysm"
We stared up at the sky, the beautiful glowing lights.
"Life is so fucking beautiful!" she sighed.
"Do you wanna know how? I study this", I asked. I guessed what the answer would be.
Still not taking her eyes off the lights, she spoke firmly and with finality.
"Physics? Nah. Still not interested".
God, I love her.
