Almost a week later, it was my turn to lead fight club. I paced the deep end of the swimming pool wearing a black sports bra and pink rosebud karate pants. My body ready. My mind focused. My battery charged. Because today, I finally got to be the sensei. And I had something important to teach—a lesson for all the women.
“Welcome to the largest fight club we’ve ever had,” I announced to the womanoids dressed in their pink army uniforms.
Paula stood farthest to my left—first position. Next to her, in second—was that whore-bitch, Chrissy. Then Isabel held third position. Behind this sparse front row of three founding book-club members, 102 paper dolls lined up rank and file. The entire pink army crammed into the pool like sardines, all waiting for me to lead them.
(But adding two more women would make nine dozen. A round number—nine dozen.)
DAMN! How long have you been in my head, Maggie?
(Well actually, a REALLY round number would be a hundred. You’d have to kick six women out. But tens are better than dozens, and a hunnid would be so perfect, right?)
My banana-buying logic… You’ve been listening all along, even before we met!
(That’s right, my little sugar Cookie.)
“Shut the fuck up!” I barked at the intrusive voice in my head, and the entire class looked at me like I had Tourette's.
(One OH-six? Or 108? Or a HUNNID? What’s best, Cookie?)
You () {
get (even);
}
I want to get even. I really do.
I did my best to ignore Maggie as I began my sermon and walked the ranks like a drill sergeant, “A woman can only take so much! You’ve lost everything… Your marriage. Your home—”
“My whole life!” a paper doll blurted from the back.
Smiling, I continued, “And you have no patience left.”
She nodded at me emphatically.
“I bet you’d love to hit someone,” I prodded her. “Anyone.”
The paper doll shrugged.
My heart pounded, my breathing shallowed, and my muscles tensed, because I was the one who really needed to hit someone. But not just anyone, I had someone special in mind—Chrissy! I turned toward the floozy. Bleach blond hair. Plastic face. Vacuous eyes. Mouth like a glazed donut. Her badonkadonk butt tested the limits of those BDUs as her watermelon boobs overflowed from that white T-shirt. Her obscene modifications served as physical evidence of her remarkably poor judgement. There was something really wrong with Chrissy—in the head. Every single choice she’d ever made was the exact opposite of what I would have done.
Yes, that skank would make an excellent example.
“Now for today’s lesson…” I tagged the walking sperm dumpster and challenged her to a fight. “Where the head goes, so goes the body.”
Chrissy accepted. Of course she did; she hated me as much as I hated her. Everyone else broke rank and stood with their backs against the wall, creating a looping, shoulder-to-shoulder perimeter of paper dolls around the pool. Today, I was their sensei, but I didn’t know any of their names—because I didn’t really care. Instead, I focused on my target—Chrissy.
On my toes.
Guard up.
Bouncing and weaving.
Ducking and bobbing.
Looking for an opportunity to strike.
I wanted to destroy her.
Utterly.
Completely.
The hussy slipped past my guard and got me in the gut, but I recovered easily. “Nice jab, bitch.”
She faked right and swung left, while laughing, “Oh, I’m just getting warmed up, Cookie.” Her gigantic fake titties bounced in a distracting display of vulgar silicon.
“I despise you,” I spat.
Chrissy blew me a collagen-filled kiss. “Feeling’s mutual, sweetie pie.” Then she swung a left hook at my head.
I ducked and counter-struck her side, right where she’d removed her lower ribs. My knuckles jabbed her internal recyclone, sending shock waves through her entire torso. Stunned, she dropped her guard, leaving just enough of an opening to hit her with a hard left—WHAM! And a right upper-cut to the jaw—BAM!
She was seeing stars.
I grabbed her ratty nest of hair and jerked her around like a rag doll, triumphantly repeating my lesson for the rest of the class, “Where the head goes—” Then I pulled Chrissy toward my feet and spun the bitch to the ground, “so goes the body.”
Her face scraped against the concrete as she fell hard. Then I mercilessly punched her in the back of the skull. Wah-bam! Desperately grappling, Chrissy flipped over. But I straddled her neck, sat on her tits, and pummeled her face. She grasped frantically at me, but there was no loose clothing for her to snag. Eventually, she got lucky and latched onto my wrist, but I broke free. She clawed at my thighs, but I kept pounding away.
Broke her fake nose.
Busted her collagen lips.
Opened her tweezed brow.
Blackened her shadowed eyes.
Look at this squirming mess beneath me!
(And where the mind goes, so goes the body.)
Maggie was back in my head again. And suddenly, I wanted to do more than just injure Chrissy. I wanted to kill her! Panting, I closed my eyes and concentrated. Using my internal recyclone, I transformed my right hand into my favorite butcher knife. No fingers. No fist. Just a surgically sharp ten-inch blade jutting out of my wrist. Absolutely wicked. In one swift motion, I sliced Chrissy’s throat open.
And the slut-pig squealed in pain.
“Yes!” I roared like a savage warrior, “DIE!”
A geyser of hot arterial blood sprayed me in the face, and I loved it!
Is this blood lust?
(Yes. I believe it is.)
Invigorated by the gore, I hacked away at the neck until I completely decapitated Chrissy. Soon, the detached head rolled aside and stared up at the sky. Shocked by my brutality, the paper dolls all gasped.
Huffing and puffing, I crawled off the body and announced, “Class dismissed.”
Eager to get away from me, the women rushed out of the pool.
Except for Paula, she wagged a finger at me and said, “Too far, Cookie. Too far!”
I shrugged and wiped blood off my blade.
Then Paula offered a helping hand to the bleeding corpse. Next thing I knew, the headless body raised its arm, grasped my friend’s wrist, and got up. Yes… The decapitated body got right the fuck up. Then Chrissy’s obscene body bent over, picked up her own head, and tucked it under her arm.
The detached head asked me, “Did that make you feel better—like a big woman?”
“Pfft. Whatever.”
Paula put her arm around the headless body and told me that I’d lost it.
“I should’ve known you’d side with your girlfriend,” I snapped back at her.
“My what?”
“I saw you two kissing at the conference in Helsinki.”
“Helsinki?” The head asked, “Kissing?”
“What conference?” Paula seemed truly confused. “What are you talking about, Cookie?”
“Sure! First, Maggie cuts me out of the loop, then—”
“Maggie’s not even here,” Paula said.
“Nobody’s seen her for almost two weeks,” the head added.
“Lies!” I declared, “Maggie watched you two locking lips in the kitchen.”
“What kitchen?” Paula gaped at me. “You really have lost your mind, Cookie.”
“So you’re denying it?” I threw my hands up in the air. “More gaslighting!”
Frustrated, Paula left with the headless, walking corpse.
“Yeah, go run away with your girlfriend,” I shouted after them.
(Congratulations, Cookie. You just tried to kill an innocent woman.)
Chrissy’s fucking far from innocent. I saw her kiss Paula.
(You saw what I wanted you to see. Do you think you’re the only one who can be cloned? Besides, kissing isn’t a capital offense. You went too far, even for me.)
“Yeah, well, Maggie… Where the head goes,” I cackled like a lunatic, “so goes the body.”
And that was how I lost my way.