Vicious Catfight/Fistfight: Hero vs. Bully
By: Supporturgoddess
I first met Leslie in elementary school. One day during recess, all the other kids stampeded past me. Someone said a boy had started a fight with a girl. I followed the crowd. As we approached, we heard high-pitched wailing. I couldn’t believe a boy would hit a girl! Then we rounded the corner and saw the boy pinned to the ground. He was the one crying! A brunette girl sat astride him, pounding his head on the ground. That was my first encounter with Leslie. A year or so later, I heard Leslie was expelled from some sort of all-girl campfire scout club for beating up another girl. Leslie liked to fight. She liked to hurt people, especially other girls.
As time passed, Leslie grew into a moderately attractive young woman, with chipmunk cheeks and an adorable, crooked smile, although few people ever saw it. She spent most of her time sneaking around with other girls’ boyfriends. If they called her on it, she beat the hell out of them. Leslie was flat-out mean. She was also smart. She targeted fragile beauties who couldn’t take much punishment. She got her thrills punching out cheerleaders and prom queens, but she stayed clear of girls whose beauty came from athleticism or naturally superior bodies.
This brings me to Valerie. Although an upperclassman, I knew Valerie better than Leslie, because Valerie was so very friendly to everyone. Valerie embodied the wholesome, athletic sort of girl. Valerie was everyone’s best friend. She couldn’t get far into a conversation without flashing both rows of brilliantly white, perfectly straight teeth. Both girls were brunettes, but Leslie’s chestnut-brown, shoulder-length hair hung like a mop over her eyes in no particular style, while Valerie’s shiny, dark hair fell to the middle of her back. Val’s hair seemed endlessly full, voluptuous. Even in an era of ‘big hair’, Valerie’s hair stood apart. Her glorious hair combined with an angel’s face and a movie star’s body to make her a true beauty.
Valerie was the sweetest girl around. She was also a star athlete and at the top of her class academically. She was a hero and role model to the younger girls at our town. Younger girls could talk to her about their problems. They adored her.
After she graduated, Valerie stayed in town, gaining work at a local hospital. She continued to be a hero and friend to younger girls in town. Leslie never graduated, but she left school two years after Valerie graduated. Leslie stayed in town and became the bane of a new generation of good girls.
Some time later, a group of girls trudged through a town park on their way to a volleyball net they used every Saturday afternoon. When they arrived, they found Leslie sprawled out on a beach towel under the net, beer in hand.
“Uh, could you please move?” One of the girls asked, sheepishly. “We’d like to use the net.”
Leslie mocked them. “Uh…duh…no, I don’t think so. Can’t you see I’m tanning?”
Another girl gulped. “Y-You can do that anywhere. We need the net.”
Leslie’s eyes narrowed. “Do you want to start something, little girl?”
The girls quickly backed down. They reluctantly moved over into the grass to play, imagining a net between them. An attempted spike went awry. The ball flew off course and toppled Leslie’s beer. Beer ran all over her.
Leslie leapt up, cursing. She grabbed one of the girls by her wrist and hissed. “You’ll pay for that!” Leslie raised her open palm. “I’ll slap your face off!”
Trying not to cry, the younger girl cringed, expecting a terrible blow.
“What’s going on here?”
Valerie, who happened to drive by as the conflict began, leapt from her car and marched up to Leslie. Leslie released the girl. Suddenly, instead of fear, broad, smug smiles appeared on the good girls’ faces. Their hero had arrived in the proverbial nick of time.
In a low, hoarse growl, Leslie said, “This is none of your business.”
The girls saw the growing concern in Leslie’s brown eyes. They taunted, “You’re not so tough now, are you, Leslie? Teach her who’s boss, Val!”
The two young women faced off, hands on the sides of their hips. Valerie stood 5’3”, Leslie 5’5”. Their weight was about equal, but proportioned differently. Leslie had small breasts but broad shoulders, wide hips, and slightly thick thighs that tapered down to knobby knees. Valerie had an exquisitely toned, feminine body with narrow shoulders and large breasts, topped by her voluminous, dark-brown hair. Leslie wore a black 1-piece swimsuit. Valerie wore a blue T-shirt over the red bikini beneath, an outfit which showed off her shapely legs.
For a long time the women faced off silently, searching each other’s eyes for any sign of backing down. Face a bit pale, Leslie began backing away.
“Ha!” One of the girls shouted. “Leslie’s a coward! She’s scared of Valerie!”
Insulted, Leslie’s eyes flashed. She lunged back and shoved Valerie down. Heart racing, Valerie looked up at Leslie. Her local fan club cheered her on, calling for her to get up and teach Leslie a lesson. Valerie refused to let the girls who admired her down. She leapt up. A wild shoving match began. Valerie pumped her sexy legs, using them to push Leslie back. Leslie’s legs couldn’t hold their ground. Val backed Leslie up, but Leslie’s broad shoulders came into play. Leslie grabbed Val’s blue shirt, tearing it off as Valerie yelled in protest. Leslie finally sent Val spinning back down. Valerie tried to get up, but Leslie stomped her bare foot to Val’s chest, slamming Val down flat on the sand. Leslie looked down at Valerie lying under her foot and sneered. Suddenly Valerie’s legs shot up around Leslie and pulled her over backward. The girls watching cheered. Leslie spun, throwing a handful of sand into Valerie’s eyes. Caught on the rise, Valerie spun and fell back down to her hands and knees. Leslie leapt at her, but Val kicked her leg straight out behind her, driving her bare foot deep into Leslie’s gut. Leslie sat back on her hips, coughing, and huffing and puffing for air.
Valerie snarled. “Did you think I’d fall for that? Do you think I’ve never fought a mean girl before?”
Valerie dove on Leslie. They rolled wildly in the sand. They rose slowly, locked in a hair pulling duel. They stared into each others red eyes, Leslie fighting tears, Valerie’s face bright red, each trying to break the other’s will. Their violent tugs sent their heads sharply over one shoulder and then the other, until they lost their footing and tumbled madly down a steep hill, still yanking each other’s hair out. The good girls gave chase. They slowly rose again, still pulling hair. Valerie screamed. Leslie followed. Finally, Valerie won, slinging Leslie down by her hair. Leslie let out husky sobs, lying on her back, arms wrapped over her head, bare feet pounding wet grass. Val came to her, but kicking blindly, Leslie toppled Valerie to her back. Leslie scrambled forward on hands and knees in an effort to mount Val, but Valerie sat up and kicked her thighs around Leslie’s face, trapping it between them. Valerie propped up on her arms and used her thighs to crush and smother Leslie. Lying on her belly, her face smothered between Valerie’s creamy thighs, Leslie’s legs kicked madly behind her.
The good girls watching cheered. “Finish her! Make her pay!”
Valerie began to smile victoriously, but she threw her head back and screamed, as Leslie took a mouthful of Valerie’s thigh, biting her. Unable to take the pain, Valerie released her hold. Leslie followed up, clawing her fingernails up and down Valerie’s legs. Valerie screamed and rolled away. She curled up in a ball, knees up to her chin, cradling her injured legs.
Leslie lifted Valerie. Val threw an unexpected punch under Leslie’s chin. The women then stood toe-to-toe, engaged in an all-out fist fight. Fist flew until both girls could barely stand. Leslie’s eyes were blank. Valerie’s tears trickled. Her big, brown eyes seemed to ask, “Why won’t you go down?” They traded fists one at a time, back and forth, Leslie then Valerie, Leslie then Valerie, over and over. In the end, Valerie couldn’t match Leslie’s iron chin. A fist to Val’s nose almost broke it. Valerie’s legs turned to spaghetti and her ankles turned under. One more punch sent her down in the dirt.
Hearing the good girls begging her to rise, Valerie fought to get her legs under her. She staggered up. Leslie backed Val against a tree, positioned her elbow under Val’s chin in her throat, and then delivered punch after punch to Val’s unprotected belly. Valerie fell crying hard, doubled up in pain. The good girls’ faces turned white as ghosts. Leslie pulled Val’s arms apart and stomped Valerie’s stomach so violently one girl ran away in fear. With an evil sneer, Leslie lifted Val and started flipping her head over heels by her hair, ripping it out. Valerie screamed and cried wildly. Lying flat on her front, clumps of her once glorious hair strewn all around her, Valerie clutched her head, looking up through a waterfall of tears at the girls who had admired and counted on her. Valerie’s heart broke. She cried her eyes out. Some of the girls started to sniffle and sob, too.
Leslie gave the girls a sadistic grin, held up Valerie’s head to face them, and dug her fingers savagely into Valerie’s face and eyes. Valerie’s scream could have shattered glass. Leslie broke Valerie. Valerie begged for mercy. She promised to do anything Leslie wanted. Leslie even forced Valerie to look her admirers in their eyes and admit that Leslie was the far better woman. Leslie told the girls to get a good look, as she spat in their crying hero’s face. Leslie stood, foot on Valerie’s hips, posing. She then gathered up handfuls of Valerie’s hair to keep as trophies, and left Val face down in the dirt.
Leslie left Valerie in utter defeat, weak as a kitten, trembling, and unable to rise. Crying uncontrollably, Valerie looked around at the good girls. One by one they gathered around her. They cried, too. Valerie’s injuries were minor. She would walk away, but the girls’ hero died on the battlefield. No one would see Valerie as a hero or role model again. The girls mourned the death of innocence. Good girls don’t always beat bad girls. Sometimes life is cruel and cold.
On the other hand, sometimes sweet justice comes when you least expect it! In the months following her triumph over Valerie, Leslie felt invincible. Her bullying grew worse, until she was ready to start a fight with any woman she met.
One day Leslie entered a convenience store at a gas station and headed for a freezer full of beer in the back. Ignoring a sign warning “No shoes, no service”, the barefoot brunette in red shorts and a white halter top paused for a moment, looking over a row of sunglasses under a sign which read, ‘damaged goods’. At the counter in front stood an impeccably dressed, brown-haired beauty in a curve-hugging yellow mini dress, a stranger on her way from one town to another. As she awaited the young attendant’s return, she turned her attention to a large platter of homemade cookies. Below the platter hung as sign with an arrow pointing up which read, “Free samples. Take all you want.” Although calorie conscious, the stranger decided to try one. The instant the stranger’s back was turned, Leslie pushed past her to the counter, cutting in front of her in line.
“Excuse me,” the brunette said in a polite but firm voice. “I believe I was here first.”
Leslie rolled her eyes. “You’re excused. Back off.” Leslie reached out to push the stranger.
The winsome brunette seized Leslie’s wrist. Leslie wrenched it free. Instantly, the two women faced off.
“I guess you haven’t heard of me,” Leslie said with a challenging grin. “I’m Leslie. I’m famous in this town for kicking pretty little butts. I think my foot would perfectly fit your scrawny little backside. So unless you want to have the honor, I think you’d better run.”
The stranger stepped back, kicked off her shoes, and stood hands on hips. In a very proper British accent, the woman said, “I guess you don’t know who I am, either. My mane is Jackie H. Addams. I won’t be pushed around, especially not by a bitch like you!”
Leslie’s face distorted into a furious scowl. She lunged, but Jackie pivoted on her toes, tripping Leslie to the floor. At that exact moment, the group of good girls who had watched Leslie humble their hero happened to enter the store. They looked down at Leslie, flat on her backside. Long lost smiles reappeared.
Outraged, Leslie leapt up and charged the Brit from behind. Jackie kicked her leg out backward, almost driving her foot through Leslie’s stomach. Leslie fell coughing in a ball at Jackie’s feet. The good girls cheered wildly. Leslie’s blood boiled. She charged like a mad bull. This time Jackie couldn’t dodge the attack. Leslie drove Jackie back against a wall and shoved her elbow into Jackie’s throat just below her chin. Leslie threw a hard punch at Jackie’s tiny, perfectly formed waist, but Jackie tossed up her leg, blocking it. She kicked Leslie back, but not down. With the good girls cheering the stranger on, the women engaged in a fistfight. They traded four punches to each other’s mouths. Jackie staggered back, ankles turning under, eyes wide. An uppercut nearly sent the pretty Brit down. The women exchanged a half-dozen more punches. Jackie reeled back on rubbery legs, eyes glassy. A tremendous haymaker swing to Jackie’s jaw sent her flying off her feet and crashing into a large pyramid made of stacked cans. Covered by a mountain of cans, Jackie tried to shake out the cobwebs. She hadn’t been hit that hard since her infamous 4th of July war with…Samantha. Jackie’s eyes narrowed at the mere thought of the name.
Leslie grabbed Jackie’s shapely ankle, pulling her out and stomping her brutally.
Jackie gasped, “Stupid Bitch!”
Leslie snarled. “If I’m so stupid, why am I kicking your butt?”
Leslie had it wrong. Jackie had scolded herself. She knew better than to let another woman set the rules in a fight. She had assessed Leslie in mere moments as a pure brawler with an iron chin. Standing toe-to-toe was indeed stupid. Whenever she faced off with an American, Jackie’s thoughts always drifted back to her battle with Samantha. She’d let her rivalry with Sam distract her long enough for Leslie to set the pace, but now, it was Jackie’s turn. Jackie spun, using her legs to trip Leslie down, hard. Jackie rolled back up and over Leslie, wrapping her far superior legs around Leslie’s legs in the process and pulling Leslie’s legs back. The Englishwoman’s legs twisted Leslie’s legs farther and farther. Leslie shouted and then screamed, fists pounding the floor, as Jackie’s legs punished Leslie’s own legs. Leslie’s pale, knobby knees turned white from pressure. Suddenly something popped, loudly.
Leslie burst out crying. “What did you do to me? What did you do-o-o-o?”
Jackie rose. “I did what I always do. I won.”
With her knee badly dislocated, Leslie crawled huffing and puffing toward the exit. Jackie walked along behind her, occasionally kicking her hips to further shame the sobbing brunette. Leslie forced herself up, limping in tears toward the door. Jackie seized Leslie’s hair and ran her forward, face-first into the steel divider between the doors. Leslie fell on her back. With the good girls cheering, Jackie picked up Leslie’s feet and pulled back, sending the spread-legged brunette’s most vulnerable area rocketing into the steel divider. Crying her eyes out, Leslie crawled on elbows and knees out into the parking lot. Jackie pulled her around back. The Englishwoman pulled Leslie up by her hair, delivered four rib-cracking knees to her midsection, drew back, and punched Leslie’s mouth, chipping Leslie’s front tooth. Barely standing, Leslie looked up. The last thing she saw was the bottom of the Englishwoman’s foot coming at her face. Leslie flew back into the Men’s restroom, jamming the door wide open. Leslie sat on the toilet, slumped against the wall, her eyes closed, legs wide apart, out cold.
The good girls cheered and laughed. They told Jackie all about Leslie’s reign of terror.
Jackie said, “Well then, I think I should leave her something to remember me by.” The Englishwoman winked and returned to the store. A moment later she returned carrying two signs. She hung a sign around Leslie’s neck with an arrow pointing down below Leslie’s waist. The sign read, “Damaged goods.” The sign Jackie placed on Leslie’s knees pointed up between her wide-open legs and read, “Free sample, take all you want!”
Jackie winked. “I’m just leaving a note for whatever truck driver or vagrant finds her.”
The good girls laughed until their stomachs hurt.
Leslie escaped her ordeal relatively unharmed, but she left town, defeated, humbled, and humiliated. Although Jackie didn’t stay, the local good girls had a new hero, an Englishwoman very good at being very bad!
