Bully Brit
I watch my fist sink into Tammy’s soft stomach as she lets out an “uuuggghhhh!!!” and folds over, swallowing and looking at me, trying to see if I’ll swing again. She’s done; I beat her, I know it, I shake my booty and show it. Tammy’s a whore, brown skinned Black girl, 5’4” about 140 lbs with curly black hair full of hairspray and brown eyes. She’s the type who has a bad ass attitude on the surface and wears street clothes and lowers her voice to make it sound all lesbo, but underneath, she’s not that good at fighting and she‘s a closet smart girl.
“Want more?” I say with a smile. I can smile anyway; I’m beating her ass in front of all her friends in front of her house on her street in her neighborhood. I don’t wait for her to answer me as I go in and start peppering her soft left side with rights and lefts while she’s doubled over. I sweep her legs out from under her and she goes down on her back, banging her big head on the sidewalk. I stomp hard on her stomach and watch her roll to a fetal position and moan loudly. I mock her moan and laugh out loud. This is too easy. All I did was dance around her, dodge her slow ass punches and work her stomach, hitting her in the face when I could, but really getting that belly with my straights and hurting her legs with my kicks. Like I said, Tammy’s reputation is for having dicks a’plenty hanging from her mouth, not for fighting and judging by this, I don’t think she can fight at all. I wait for her to get pulled to her feet by one of the guys watching and I move in quickly, getting her face with two fast punches and digging a hook to her stomach and watching her shake violently and drop back on her hands and knees.
“I want you to admit that I’ve won,” I say, putting my hands on my hips and flexing the definition I have in my own abs, just below my violet sports bra and my matching shorts that are pulled way above my bellybutton. “If you keep getting up, I’m just gonna knock your weak fat ass down again.”
“Okay, okay,” she says, coughing and spitting… yuck, “You win.”
“Remember,” I say pointing down at her, “I’m a black belt in karate. I can beat you and I just proved it. Don’t judge the book by the cover… bitch. And next time I‘m jogging around here, stay out of my way.”
I laugh hard and I hear her friends talking about how she lost to little ole me. 5’1” 99 lbs, long blonde hair, blue eyes… Brittany Bullworth… or as those who fear me call me… Bully Brit. And why do they call me “Bully Brit?” Well, because I’m a bully… duh! For all Tammy’s bad attitude and stuff, she didn’t start this fight. I did. She was jogging and I was jogging at the park that’s near the stadium right down the street and I caught up with her and stepped on the back on her leg. I just kept being deliberately clumsy until she threatened to kick my ass. Then I followed her here and beat her up in front of her friends. I do this so that I can continue to build my reputation… I’ve got all kinds of footage of me kicking ass on youtube; I’m a celebrity, but a lot of girls comment and say they can kick my ass. But hell… they’re probably not really even female. In this day and age, anyone can be famous thanks to the internet. You can take a dump and post it online and it’ll get fifty million hits and CNN, FOXNEWS, and MSNBC will be reporting on it like it’s real news. If Charlie Sheen’s stupidity or Sarah Palin’s latest dumb remark or Lindsay Lohan’s court date is news, than anything is news.
Like I said, I wasn’t always a bully; in fact, I got picked on a lot for being short when I was younger. They would call me “Marie B.” and make fun of me, especially after I got into gymnastics. I think Marie B. is 24 years old now and she got famous when she was 19; I’m 18 and I’m famous now and everyone comes with the “next Marie B.” stuff when we have nothing in common. But seeing someone like her did kinda inspire me… nobody could take an ass-whipping like that girl. I’d watch her on television or read about her out of the ring brawls and… she just sucks. She brings it in the ring; I give her that… but for somebody who claims ‘you gotta have heart,’ nobody could get herself into a fight she couldn’t handle and then after she lost, start crying and begging for mercy like that girl. And yes, she won some big matches and has a couple of title reigns to her name, but she’s not the bad ass that I am. I’d root for her because I thought I could relate to her as an underdog, but she’s too nice and she lost too much. It made me hate her, but I figured I could kinda borrow from her a bit. And because of her losing and the comparisons, I focused on perfecting my craft as a fighter and a bully. Marie hates bullies; I hate losers. I’m cooler; Marie is the un-cooler. But to this day, I sill get comparisons to the famous fighter (sarcasm) Marie B., even though I’m two inches taller than she is and I weigh more. Plus, that dumb bitch likes to be the good guy; I’m as bad as they come. I’m Michael Jackson Bad; Marie B. is more like Prince: short, weird, and overrated. I’m so mean, I make medicine sick… and I came up with that first; Muhammad Ali is misquoted, for anyone who thinks he said it first. And I never lose, especially not to anyone who weighs more than she should or anyone with tattoos or anyone who just had a baby for a married football player or anyone from South Africa or from the South side of a trailer park in the rectum of Louisiana known as Lafayette.
I can’t be beaten because I’m a black belt in karate and I’m nearly impossible to hit. I‘m fast and I keep my hands up, only dropping them to taunt when I know I can get away with it. And I just L-O-V-E going to the stomach on my hand picked opponents or those wimpy girls I bully around the campus. I’ll hit you in the stomach so hard, your whole family tree will shake. I’m a real dirty South bad ass; follow me on Twitter. Anyway, back to my origin, because every villain likes to tell how he or she got to be a villain. So, I kept getting picked on; people kept making fun of my height and stuff… and then, I became a black belt in karate and I kicked everybody’s ass who picked on me. It was easier than I thought because I thought I was doing martial arts wrong. They say don’t go with your hatred, but I hated those kids and that’s what I fought with. Even after I knew I had won, I kept tattooing that ass just to make sure that everybody knew that a new sheriff was in town and her name was Bully Brit. After that, I liked beating people up so much, that my attitude kinda changed. I stopped being shy and I started saying what I felt. Anyone who didn’t like it and talked back, I would egg ‘em on until they wanted to kill me. And then, I whipped their candy asses!! And I made sure that I didn’t stop beating them up until they admitted defeat. Something really turns me on about hearing a woman, or even a man, say that I won, that I am better, that they can’t take my shots because they have to go home and live with the fact that they got beat by little ole me.
Kids who got picked on right with me became my new targets too. They thought that when I cleaned out the bullies senior year, that they were free… hell no! Why couldn’t they stick up for themselves? They waited for me to play hero… sorry; I’m not Marissa “The Fighting Honor Student” Simmons. Now, they all had to pay me tribute and nobody was going to believe that a little White girl who moved to wild New Orleans from Rhode Island was running a protection racket. No matter who it was, no one thought I started the fight because I’d confront them alone, start an argument loud enough for people to come running, and that’s when the beat down would come. And I knew who to pick on too. I picked on the outcasts, the Goths, the bitches who had to dress in all black just and listen to Morbid Angel or Danzig just to put up that front that they’re tough when really, they’re just scared and trying to scare everyone into leaving them alone. That way, when I won, I could say they started it and no one would doubt me because of the weirdness and antisocial angst of a goth. I graduated and got a scholarship to Tulane. Tulane, Loyola, and Dillard are all very very close to each other, so that’s three college campuses worth of bullying and New Orleans is such a diverse city, so I had my picks. I’d even beat up the homeless for practice, steal their change, and get them arrested. But see… I would give the change to charity; it wouldn’t be sitting in my car or used to put in those stupid parking meters or anything like that. So, don’t treat me like I don’t have a conscience because I do. What’s a homeless person going to do with a handful of quarters? Buy a handful of crack.
Once you get into college, you’re on your own and I didn’t have to play little Ms. Sunshine anymore; I could be who I really was… or who I had really become. So, I did learn something from Marie… that if you look a certain way and project a certain attitude on the surface, it doesn’t matter what you do or what you cause, as long as you’re never going after anyone who looks or acts more innocent Bambi sweet than you do, you can get away with anything. I’m in aerobics classes with girls who are overweight and out of shape and they can’t stand me because I come in there and do things that they’ll never be able to do. I’m far too advanced to be taking classes with them, but I do it just because I can, take pics with my phone when they aren’t looking and post them on my Twitter page with mocking comments. And who’s going to do something about it? I’ve got the instructors in my back pocket. That’s another great thing about being me; I know how to suck up. Even when I was studying karate, I would suck up to the masters and be overly polite to the other students so that if I messed up on my forms, I still got promoted to a higher belt or if I’m sparring, they wouldn’t hit me that hard, if at all. In fact, I’ve never really been hit hard; I guess it’s because I’m that damn good! I’m a black belt Bully Brit; take me on!! I didn’t grow up rich; I don’t drive a BMW like Bionic Karin or Queen Samantha; I’m just your average girl who was living an average girl life until a bunch of losers interrupted that life and created the bad ass that I am now.
Take Cassandra Windsor… this bitch is from London, England and has the royal last name, but she insists she’s not related to them. And of course, she’s not… just look at her. She’s 5’7” and roughing 155 and it’s a soft 155 lbs. She’s got short curly brown hair and that stupid accent to go along with her big titties, big butt, and her soft belly with a deep round belly button that sucks the fabric of the shirt covering it in like quicksand. Now, she’s not really fat… she’s thick; she’s got a shape and if she trimmed up on the love handles and the pooch in the front, below that big ‘hole of no return’ she’s got for a bellybutton, she’d be okay. But I’d never tell her that; it would give her self esteem a boost and I like her down and depressed. In fact, I call her “Fat Ass Momma Cass” just to drive home the weight insults, even though she’s not as big as Momma Cass was… and she sure as hell isn’t as talented either. She’s a General Studies major… what the hell is that? Seriously… she came here from London with her stupid ass tea and crumpets accent and she doesn’t know why she came or what she’s doing. Of course, she told us that she had a boyfriend who was in the military and they met when his tour of duty in Iraq was over and he stopped in London. She moved here with him and he dumped her, leading her to have affairs with Burger King, Dr. Pepper, and Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream. She says she used to be active… sorry; I had to stop myself from laughing.
I’ve been riding her and she’s been taking it. I throw kicks and punches just to demonstrate my abilities and she knows that if she steps to me, I’ll knock her fat ass out, but she’s been going back at me during breaks. I don’t straight up put her down; I make suggestive insults, like I might say “your muffin top is showing,” or “girl, tuck that shirt in and pull those pants up; your belly is scraping the floor” or I’ll point at her bellybutton and say, “if I jump in it, will it take me to Wonderland?” The other girls can’t really hear what we’re saying to each other, and I make sure that at every class, including this one we’re having right now, that I’m right next to her. She’s got on the generic gray tank top and gray shorts. I see a tattoo on her right arm, but I can’t quite make out what it says from me looking forward and her moving them. She doesn’t usually wear tank tops, but she’s lost a good bit of weight and there a hint of definition showing in her arms and legs. As she swings her arms back and forth, her shirt starts coming up and I can see the love handles and the lower half of her bellybutton.
“Your cellulite is showing, Cass,” I say, tightening my own abs as I look over at her and smile
“Fuck you,” is what I get in response… wait. Did she really just say that to me? Usually, she’d say a sarcastic “thanks” or even a “go to hell, Brittany”… never anything like that. And that’s when it kicks in for me. I scoot a little closer to her and give her a nudge in her ribs with my right elbow, feeling her softness and she instantly grabs her side, groaning out an “uhhhh!!”
“Sorry,” I say, standing over her, “It was an accident; with me being so short, I guess I kinda got in your personal space and didn’t even realize it.”
Now honestly, that’s the first time we’ve touched each other. But apparently, she wants to do more touching as I watch her fist go right passed my chin; that was so easy to dodge. I give her a skeptical look because her punch was telegraphed and slow. I’m not ready to beat her up and have no real intention of doing it, so I sweep her legs out from under her and watch her fall on her back. Now, it’s time to play my sweet, innocent card. I don’t have to, but I just feel like it.
“I told you it was an accident, Cassie,” I say as the other women look on and move in to break up a potential fight, “You don’t have to try and hit me.”
“Bitch, I’m gonna fuck you up!!” she roars and starts to get up
“Stay down, Cassie,” I say, sounding as sweet as possible, but really starting to hope she gets up, “I’m a black belt in karate… I don’t want to hurt you.”
The other girls step between us and the instructor calls the class to a break. I turn my back and start for the juice machine and I can hear Cass going on and on about how I’ve been making fun of her and putting her down, but nobody’s buying it. In fact, they’re defending me… I want to laugh out loud as Cass is yelling at me from across the room to fight her and I’m just drinking my ruby red grapefruit juice and making my eyes as puppy dog cute and concerned as I can. I tell the other girls that I’m going to try to steer clear of Cassie until she calms down a bit, but we work out next to each other and if she tries to attack me, I will defend myself… you know, stuff that will make the ass-kicking seem like self defense if it happens. The instructor wants Cassandra to go home, but I insist that she stay, even offering to apologize to her, but our instructor says that I shouldn’t say anything because it was an accident. She says Cass owes me an apology… ha ha haaaaa!!!! I love being me!!! I have to go to my car and get my shirt because they turned the air conditioner all the way up and I’m in my sports bra and shorts. Yes, I’m from Rhode Island and that’s way up north, but I’ve been spoiled by this New Orleans humidity and I don’t want this cold to ruin my tan… not that it would.
As I’m walking passed Cass to go out, I say “fat ass Momma Cass” under my breath and completely avoid eye contact… if anyone asks what I said, I’ll just say I was talking to myself and saying “I can’t forget my keys.” I could see her staring at me out the corner of my eyes, but she doesn’t make any moves… she knows better now. I get into the hallway and walk to the elevator and that’s when I hear something running up behind me and it’s pretty fast. I turn and yank my head out of the way of a punch that I see coming, but it never reaches my chin… and not because I dodged it, but because it was a feint. Cass ducks low and drives her shoulder into my chin… ow!! She picks me up and slams me down on the floor hard… I don’t know whether I banged my butt, back, head or all three but I’m down and I don’t like the way this feels… it’s numbing and I’m kinda dizzy and disoriented.
“You’re gonna pay, bitch!” she says, grabbing me by my hair and pulling me into the elevator just as the doors open. This is a fifteen story building and we’re on the forth floor; by the time we have class, usually most of the people in the building have left, so I’m a bit surprised when she pressed the up button… and I’m even more surprised when she presses the button for the 13th floor; there’s nothing on the thirteenth floor because it’s an unlucky number!! What a dumb bitch!! I stand up quickly and prepare to kick her fat ass, but we’re on an elevator and even as small as I am, I can’t move that much. She uses her weight to grab me and pin my back to the wall; the small of my back is hurt by the metal resting bar and she rams me into it four hard times. Once the door opens and we see all black empty space, she lifts me up and starts carrying me off the elevator and into the large room. There are windows, so there’s the light of the streetlamps and there a light in the corner on one of the posts in the room and there‘s a surveillance camera underneath it, but it’s still pretty dark. I throw both my elbows down and in on either side of her neck and with a loud yelp, she lets me go. I slam a hard thrusting right hand into her belly and with an “OOF!!!” she doubles over and I knock her back with a rising backfist.
“You just made the biggest mistake of your life, you fat ass Cass British bitch!” I say as I start to move around, making sure to pull my shorts to where only the upper half of my abs is showing. She comes at me, but I hurt her with a hard leg kick to her left thigh, then I jab her nose and get her with a right cross under her left eye, then a left hook to her ribs and a right to her belly, just above that belly button and she gasps and backs up.
“Come on, you fat ass bitch,” I say, doing the Ali shuffle as she misses with a left hook and a telegraphed right cross and I counter with a short hook to the point of her chin and a sweeping kick across her belly that forces an “UUUGGGHHH!!!” from her as I drop her with an axe kick to the back of her head once she folds over.
“Just for the record, I thought you should know,” I say, waiting for her to get back up, “They call me Bully Brit because I’m the biggest bully around and you’re just the latest in a long list of fat bitches I’m loving to beat down!”
“Bully Brit, huh? More like a brat, Brit... heh heh heh,” she says as she wipes the blood from her nose and starts to rise… she sounds more confident than she should… I guess she’s just that stupid.
“That’s right,” I say, sticking out my chest as she eyes my cleavage and I tighten my abs as she raises her fists. She’s moving even slower now; the gut shots have taken the fight from her and she’s done and she’s too dumb to know it. I step in to give her a jab just to take more confidence from her, but she slips the punch and BANG!!! Unnnnhhhh… I never see the left hook coming as I stagger back. My legs aren’t working the way they should because I can barely feel them and what I do feel isn’t steady. She hits really hard and I need to back up, but she grabs me and throws her knee into my stomach, below the waistband of my shorts… WHUUUUGGGHHH!!! I’ve never been hit there before and that’s my favorite place to hit someone because I love the reaction, but you know what? Being hit in the stomach hurts. I’m doubled over and I can’t see her because I’m looking at the floor… I can’t breathe and I hear her breathing, but I don’t know where she is. I’ve never been in this position before and my mind is racing to figure out what to do… that’s when I realize that she’s holding me and that’s why I didn’t go down from the knee to the stomach… she flips me up and powerbombs me on the floor… UUUUUHHH!!!!
“You and I have something in common, then Brittany,” she says, “You’re a ‘Bully Brit’ and I’m the Brit Bully.”
“What the fuck… are you… talking about… you fat… bitch?!” I say… I’ve got to buy some time and I heard those Brits are egotistical talkers. She shows me the tattoo on her right arm... it says "Bully"... wow, a tattoo... I've never seen one of those before (sarcasm).
“I boxed in the amateurs and pros before I met Jake,” she says, Jake being the marine she hooked up I mentioned earlier, “I was Cassandra ‘The British Bully’ Windsor. Everybody thought the name was stupid because I’m British and I was boxing in Britain, so I dropped the ‘British’ part and just stuck with ‘The Bully.’ I had two pro fights before I moved, and I lost them both, and that‘s when I thought I‘d make the crossover to mixed martial arts. But Jake didn‘t want me fighting and--”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your problems, fat ass,” I say as I get to my feet. I’m hurting, but another part of being me is that she knows what I can do and she knows that I can beat her fat ass… Unnhh!! Or maybe not! She just hit me with a hard jab to my nose and when I bring my arms up to protect myself, OOUUGGHH!!! She got me with an uppercut to my belly, just above my bellybutton and just below the waist band of my shorts. Unnnhhhh!!! She hurts me with a left hook that hits my temple around my raised arms and snaps my head back with a straight right to the bridge of my nose, between my raised arms… I’m backing up now; I can’t believe it because usually when I’m backing up, it’s to taunt my opponent. OOOHH!!! Another hard straight right hand hit’s the pit of my stomach and I buckle as she grabs me by the front of my shorts. As I’m leaning back, my shorts slide down a bit and she laughs at the bruise forming on my stomach and at my tiny outie bellybutton. AHHHHHH!!!! She grabs my navel and squeezes it and when I try to throw a head kick at her, she ducks under it and punches me in right on the lips of my vagina… *cough*… I go down on my knees, holding my crotch and she sends me rolling and sputtering with a kick to my ribs.
“Come on, Brittany,” she says; I don’t know what her facial expression is and I don’t care… I’m in a world of hurt right now and I don’t know what to do or how to handle it. How is this fat bitch winning? I’m the bully around here, not her!! And then, there’s that annoying ass light up there with that camera to add to it. It’s giving me color spots even in this dark.
“See that camera?” she says, “That’s not surveillance… that’s mine. You’re gonna be on youtube, girl. I got the idea of who you are when you showed up running your mouth. I’ve watched your videos and seen you picking on girls who can’t fight, setting them up and using your appearance to get yourself out of trouble, then badmouthing them on your social networking pages.”
“What’s your… point… bitch?” I say, starting to get up
“I wanted to be a famous boxer, but one swinging dick fucked all that up for me,” she says, pulling me up by my hair and burying her fist deep into my stomach and forcing the wind from me with a WHOOOSH!!! “Thanks to you, I’m going to be famous anyway because I’m the Brit bully who took out Bully Brit!!”
Uuuugggghhh….uggghhh… she got me good that time… I can’t get my air… OOOOUUUGGGHHH!!! She hit me in the stomach even harder that time and she pulls me up and pushes me back, but my legs can barely support me… she jabs my stomach, mmpphhh!! It isn’t that hard and I’m trying not to drop my arms because I know she’ll knock me out if she connects with my chin. Ummm!!! Another jab folds me as it hits my bellybutton and pushes it in.
“Well, well, well,” she says, “I guess it’s better to have a hole of no return than that ugly thing. It looks like a penis head, you blonde wannabe Marie B. bitch.”
She pulls me into a bear hug and squeezes me tight… uuuuuuhhhh aaaaaaaaAAAAAHHHH!!!!! I feel like I’m going to explode from this and she slams me on my back with all 155 lbs of her coming down on me. One thing I have to admit that Marie and I don’t have in common… Marie can wrestle; I wish I could now. Cass mounts me and starts hammering my stomach with punches until I bring my arms down… but she doesn’t go for my face. I’ve taken a couple of shots there, but I don’t feel any swelling or blood running. She makes me cough hard with a knee to my crotch, then as I turn on my side, she gets her legs around me and puts on a sleeper hold… how ironic, this is Marie’s finisher… I don’t feel any pain… in fact I don’t feel a thing………………………………...
I’m woozy and I see the camera pointing right at my face. My stomach is hurting badly and as I look down, I see that I’ve been stripped naked from head to toe and I’m tied to the post facing the camera with my arms above my head and my ankles tied too.
“Let me go or else you’ll be in soooo much trouble!!” I shout at Cass, but she just smiles and nails me in the stomach with an uppercut just above the bellybutton… UUUGGGHHH!!!
“You know what turns me on?” she says, turning and driving an elbow to my solar plexus… OUGH!! “I love to hear a bitch I’ve beaten beg me to stop. So Brittany, let’s hear it.”
“Fuck you,” is what she hears from me and the target practice begins. She pummels my abs… she hits me to the solar plexus OUGH!! UMMM!!!! GUUUHHH!!!! She slams lefts and rights to the middle of my stomach to the pit of it. GOOOGH!!! OOOF!!!! UUGGGHHH!!! She nails my bellybutton and forces me to cum… oh no… AAAHHHH!!!! HUUUUUUHHHH Uh uh uh uh uh uhhhhhhh NGGGGGHHHHHH Ahhhhhh!!! And she blasts the fight from me by hitting the softer spot below my bellybutton. Ohhhhh!!!!! Ohhhh!!!! OHHHHH!!!! Okay!!! OKAY!!!! I GIVE UP!!! YOU BEAT ME!!!!
I start to feel something running, other than my juices down my legs… I’m crying… I’m looking into the camera and I’m crying…
“Please Cassie,” I sob, “I’ll never mess with you again… you beat me. I’m just a wimp who plays tough… I’m a nothing… you intimidated me from the moment we met…”
“Do you really think that little innocent girl act is gonna help you now?” she says smiling
“I’m being serious!!” I cry loudly, “Please Cassie… you’ve won.”
OOOUUUGGGHHHH!!!!! Right above the bellybutton and I so want to just go down and stay down, but I’m tied up. She pokes me around my bellybutton and laughs.
“You’re getting soft there, Brit,” she says, “But the second I met you, I knew you were soft. By the time I‘m done with you though, you‘re gonna be really soft.”
And she’s right. She hammers my stomach until it’s as soft as a pillow; my submission didn’t help me at all… and I really did mean what I said about her beating me… that was obvious. When I got off that elevator, I was back to being a shy wimp. Bully Brit was over for me when I walked to my candy apple red Camaro and drove back to my apartment. But then, when I got home and saw the video was posted on my page by one of my fans… I cried watching myself take a beating… but it got more hits than anything I’d ever posted myself. There were soooooo many supportive comments on my fan pages about how they can’t wait for me to come back and get revenge on Cassie and there are plenty of messages wanting her to beat me up again. People are torn on who started the fight and many of the fans out there still think I’m sweet and innocent while others think I’m dark and deceptive.
Cassie’s viewed as either a bully or a real underdog and when her story got out about how she was fighting and a man messed her over, her popularity blew up. Turns out, this guy Jake left Cassie for a girl he served in the Marines with… 5’4” 120 lb Puerto Rican but born in Kentucky with mocha brown skin, short curly black hair and big hazel eyes named Demi. She’s just started as a professional fighter herself and I’ve seen a lot of her interviews; she’s evolved from this sweetheart into this egotistical manipulative bitch and people want Cassie to fight her and beat her. Demi even has a fan page and Twitter account and dissed Cassie as a “fat bitch” and called her beating me “a fake fat bitch beat a fake little bitch.” She’s in videos flexing her muscles and putting Jake in all these holds and bragging about how she used to be fat like Cassie, and now thanks to the Marines, she’s lost weight and gained more self esteem than ever.
It’s all a soap opera; they’re even asking me what my opinion of it is and I had been silent. Then, I decided to post: “Cassie beat me fair and square… but I’ll be back!!” They loved it and they still loved me… and in a weird way, I could appreciate it. Cassie’s got plenty of fan pages now too. She’s shedding the fat and toning up. She’s not muscle bound, but she’s strong and the love handles are gone, though she still weighs 155 lbs. I had to hide my belly for months, but I’ve got it back to where it was before Cassie beat the fire from it. And I still go to aerobics and I‘ve still got my instructors in my back pocket, but Cassie doesn’t. I don’t know if I’d ever fight Cassie again; she beat me really badly and she broke me. In fact, I don’t know what the hell I’m going to be or do… but I’ve been taking mixed martial arts classes and learning submissions. This dumb bitch Margaux spilled a drink on me at a mutual friend’s birthday party and she became the first girl I choked out… yes, she did it by accident; she had too much to drink. But she was tall enough and soft enough for me to beat her and get some of my practice in.
I’ll be back; you never know… there have been more Marie B. comparisons than ever and this dumb bitch Jonica’s name has come up too. This 5’2” Cajun who dyes her hair white but tries to be a goth. What the hell is that about? Never mind because she sucks and she‘s too lazy to learn how to fight. I heard Jonica’s beaten Marie up a few times… well… I’m not Marie. I’m Brittany Bullworth, the Bully Brit and if you think I would lose a fight to a bitch who goes mudding and quotes Neil Sedaka songs (featuring Elton John on back up vocals), they’ll be some real bad blood. I may come find you and do run do-run do-do-do-do run run your ass over, if you want. Yeah, the bitch is in the smile, alright. Neil Sedaka wrote that song about me even if it was before I was born. But if I promise to kick your ass, Marie’s ass, or Jonica’s ass, unlike what the song implies, I can keep those promises. I’m a bad ass and a black belt in karate. Remember that. And don’t forget to follow me on Twitter… bitch.
The End?
