Bad Girl Diaries: Katrina Beats U
http://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?action-profile;u=6773CRACK!!
That’s the sound of my fist hitting your jaw. You spit blood on the ground and I laugh, more to myself than to you, and keep punching you. My punches are hard and accurate, as you’re finding out now, you stupid bitch… if you didn’t know, you should’ve asked somebody, but it’s too late. Knee to the face and I see your front teeth get stuck in my jeans. I pull you up by your hair and bury my fist into your belly… and again… and again… and again… and again. And here comes the uppercut.
SPLAT!!
That’s the sound of your back hitting the ground as I stand over you and look down at your fucked up body… fucked up by me, of course. I don’t know why the fuck you thought you could beat me and I don’t care. You thought you could and I kicked your ass and believe me when I tell you that I enjoyed every moment of listening to the sounds of my fists and knees slamming into your body and all the pitiful ass moaning and groaning you were doing while I was talking shit. You were doing that too a little earlier… until I broke your jaw.
“How does it feel now, bitch?”
That’s the sound of my voice, taunting you. I don’t know what you were thinking; maybe you like getting beat up.
WHOOOSH!!!
That’s the sound of the air coming out of you when my foot stomps down on your belly, right above the navel.
Ah han han han haaaaaw… uh uh… mmmppphhh… sniff sniff…
That’s the sound of you crying, and I’m surprised because I thought you were gonna put up more of a fight. But that’s what I notice with blondes… all talk and no walk. I gotta do all the walking myself, all over your fucked up face, you stupid bitch.
“Do I hear a little girl? Is that what I hear? What happened to the tough ass hard ass bitch who threw a drink on me?”
Houston is a rough city, especially after Hurricane Katrina, when a bunch of my fellow native New Orleans folk moved out here. My name is Katrina, and I’m the worst fucking storm you want to run across if you choose to fuck with me. I’m a professional wrestler and fighter and while I’ve appeared in just about every promotion in Louisiana and Texas that has female fighting, I’m very much a free agent. I’ve been fighting for a long time, not professionally, but just fighting. I grew up in New Orleans and moved around a lot; I’ve been living in Houston now for a few years and between Louisiana and Texas, I feel like I’ve ran across every crazy ass bitch in the south. You go from school to school and you’re the new girl with the nice clothes and cute smile and bitches want to wipe that smile off of you. All through high school, in my neighborhoods, everywhere I went, there was a fight. And I won’t lie, sometimes, I started them, but I’ve won way more than I’ve lost. When the hurricane happened, I got into even more fights than ever before, just because of my name. You’d think that’s a stupid reason to fight, but you know what? If people want to fight, they’re gonna fight; whatever the reason is, it’s not important. Two bitches want to throw down and if a bitch lost her house or dog in a big storm and you happen to be named the same as the storm, it doesn’t matter where you grew up or what you lost in that same storm, these crack headed bitches and Cajun cxnts want to try me.
I was always getting into fights when I was younger. I’m a fine, strong Black woman, 5’7” 150 lbs with long black hair and light caramel brown skin; people say I look like I could be a model or a movie star because of my shape, but I don’t pay that shit any mind. I know I look good; they know I look good. And all the bitches I see in Hollywood are toothpicks. I’m not saying I can’t take a compliment or anything; it’s just that if you have to state the obvious over and over, then you must be up to something and I’ve had my heart broken and I’ve had friends stab me in the back before. I’m not going back; I‘m doing me for all I‘m worth. Being a Black woman, especially a thick, outspoken Black woman who doesn’t suck up, kneel down or bend over for anybody means I’ve got to put up with all kinds of shit from all sides. People are gonna hate me for being Black, think I’m weak because I’m a woman, and try to fuck me because I’m fine. If I speak my mind, then I’m a bitch; if I wear nice clothes, then I’m full of myself; if I kick your ass, go see a doctor to put it back together again… get it? I don’t lie to myself and think that people are gonna judge me based on what’s inside. Who the hell ever does that? So, I use what I’ve got to get where I need to get, but I won’t hesitate to come down to your level or any other bitch’s level if necessary.
Take this so-called “gang bitch.” After Hurricane Katrina when we got a bunch of people at the Astrodome, I volunteered. I was handing out diapers and water and all kinds of supplies and the work was hard, but it was what I wanted to do. I’m from Louisiana and seeing New Orleans and the Gulf Coast get hammered hurt me… plus, as odd as it sounds, because my name is “Katrina,” I felt a bit guilty. So, this high yellow girl with all these tattoos and her hair in braids cuts the line and starts screaming and spitting in my face about “give me some fucking water!!” I’m like, “Uh, you better calm your ass down before I snatched those tracks and make a remix.” She reached across that table and that was it; I grabbed her wrist and came down with my other elbow and broke her damn arm. I grabbed her by her tank top and pulled her across that table and beat the shit out of her and let me tell you something; there ain’t nothing like the sounds your fists make against flesh. I love to punch you in the stomach and look in your eyes and see that pain or feel my knuckles turn that muscle into mush. My stomach is soft, but I‘m far from fat; it comes with the territory of having extremely large breasts and a big ass and big thighs, but I work on my conditioning and I protect it when I’m fighting. Skinny bitches wanted to call me fat; I’d hurt them; fat bitches wanted to call me ugly; I’d fuck them up too.
You know; there’s southern hospitality and we’re good people in the south, but you don’t fuck with me like that… we’re not friends. One dude got in my personal space and I didn’t even say a word; I just kicked him in the balls. Then his girl got in my face, dumb bitch with an Australian accent and dyed pink hair… I grabbed her by both her arms and slammed my chest into hers. It knocked the wind out of her and then, the dumb bitch coughed on me. I kneed her in the belly and body slammed her on the floor. After that, she was done, but I wasn’t. I kicked the shit out of that bitch and told her off at the same time. I keep telling bitches not to fuck with me; I don’t know what’s going on… maybe they need to wash the wax out of their ears of get a reality check. And I know my limitations too; I know that I can lose. That’s why I prepare myself with workouts and I do jog. When you’re wrestling girls who are smaller and faster, or girls who are bigger and stronger, you’ve got to get in the best condition you can be in and you can’t kill yourself in the gym, but you’ve got to be prepared. If I’m gonna eat fried chicken and bbq ribs with baked beans and potato salad or gumbo or po boys or whatever, I’ve got to work out and stay fit or else, I’m gonna get beat in the ring or on the street. If you’re gonna have the attitude, you’ve got to have the action to back it up.
A girl I was fighting kept going to my belly; she was wearing me down and she was out of range every time I made a run at her, but I never let the thought of losing get in my mind. I’ve taken a lot of punishment in some of the fights and matches I’ve had and I could’ve given up, but me losing would’ve only proven the bitch I was fighting was right about me. So, I kept going. As soon as she came in, I kicked her right to the pussy and punched her in the throat. And that’s another thing; I don’t give a shit about low blows. If it was a boxing match or a mma fight, you’d hear the ref say, “Protect yourself at all times.” I will punch kick or scratch you well below the belt and when you moan and hiss or even if you cum, I will laugh at your weak ass. And guess what? I’ll keep beating the shit out of you and telling you how I’m beating your ass until I feel like stopping. And when I stop, I’m gonna keep talking.
Tonight’s a pretty special night for me; I’ve got a big match. There are all sorts of people in the audience here and I’m looking forward to making a statement. I’m getting famous in the south now; everybody knows me as one of the biggest and rising heels (bad guy wrestlers) in the sports minor federations. The fact that my name is Katrina and some of my moves have “hurricane” in the title only adds to the dislike. Yeah, I lost a lot of my own property in that hurricane and many of my family members were displaced, but nobody seemed to care about that. They don’t care about the weeks I spent volunteering in Houston or the times I’ve gone back to New Orleans with Habitat for Humanity to help in the recovery. All they see is a name and an attitude and that’s fine by me. They still looked at me as a bitch with a mouth who they thought they could beat. So, I used it to my advantage because the more they think I’m a bitch, the more tickets they’ll buy to see me get beat, and the more money I’ll get paid. I’m wearing my dark blue short tank top, some shiny dark blue pants with white lightening designs and matching boots.
“Ready or Not” by the Fugees plays, and that’s my cue to walk to the ring. People boo and curse and I see all kinds of middle fingers and crotch chops and shit… it doesn’t bother me. I talk all the way to the ring; I boo them right back, flip them off, make the same stupid gestures at them that they make at me. Fuck them… you’re paying my car note, my house note… you came to see me, so thank you for being so fucking stupid. I never mind people booing me, but some of them don’t keep their hands to themselves and I’ve had to give somebody a fresh ass-whipping right on the spot as a souvenir for coming to see me. Like I said; don’t fuck with me. When you’re a popular wrestler and you’ve paid your dues and scrapped to get to where you are like I have, you don’t have time for mother fuckers trying you outside of the ring. You’ve got to be ready for whatever, whenever, with whoever, and you’ve got to win however, because if you don’t, people will be saying that you’re not as tough as you are in the ring and your brand suffers too. I get in the ring and I wait for my opponent.
“Instant Karma” by John Lennon plays and out she comes… 4’11” 92 lbs, long blonde hair and blue eyes in a gold bikini… the wrestling superstar that goes by Marie B. and the crowd goes crazy for her little ass. She’s one of the most famous wrestlers in the world, but I can’t see why. Nothing this little bitch has done has impressed me; she should be buying her hype squad dinner every night for the rest of their lives for convincing everybody that she’s a good fighter. She’s won two OPW World Title’s and just lost the Television title to Samantha, but she’s never pinned the champion to win the belt. She won the World title the first time in a fatal four way and had it handed to her the second time, and she won the TV title in a triple threat ladder match. She hasn’t done jack shit. Marie got seriously fucked up by a fighter named Dawn after she lost to Samantha and her bosses sent her down here to our fed to get some of her timing back. Plus, having somebody as famous as she is here only makes more people buy tickets and put more money in my pockets. And I do fight for sport, but it’s all about the dollar. I like to hurt people and knowing that I can get paid for it makes it even more worth it.
As soon as the little bitch gets in the ring, I’m on her. In fact, I rush in and knee the bitch as she’s coming through the ropes. Usually, Marie flips into the ring, but she’s probably still taking it easy and that’s another thing that pisses me off. Since when did I become a tune-up fight? My knee slams just below her right armpit and she falls out of the ring and to the floor.
“Time to go to school, weak ass!”
I sling her into the barricade and hear the sound of her back hitting the steel and an “Uhhhh!!” from her. I rush in and slam my body into hers and feel the air go out of her as my breasts mash her chest. I take great joy in her hisses as I bend her back across the barricade like a bow, but that bitch has some strong ass legs and she brings her knees up and nails me in the side of the head. I stagger back, holding my head and I’m seeing stars, but I can hear the fans cheering her on. She kicks me in the gut, “OUGH!!” I double over and she moves in, throwing uppercuts into my stomach and backing me up. Now, all I hear are my groans as the little bitch’s fists are really digging into me.
“Did you say something about going to school?” she smiles in my face, grabbing me and kneeing my belly deep, “I thought school was out.”
She wraps her arms around my waist and surprises me by giving me a belly to belly suplex onto the floor… my back… my fucking back… she sits on my stomach and starts punching my face and I’m thinking, “What the fuck? I had her!” I cover up and she starts in on my stomach again and every blow takes more and more out of me. But that’s the thing about me; I know it’s happening and knowing it is enough for me to find the will to change it. I grab her by her breasts and squeeze them hard.
“Come on, shrimp!!” I yell smiling, “Thought you were just gonna come on down to Houston and kick my ass? I don’t fucking think so!”
“EEEYAHHHH!!!” I get to hear the great Marie B. scream like the little bitch that she is. I let go of her breasts and she instantly reaches for them, which is perfect because it gives me the opportunity to punch her right between the eyes, hear her let out an “Unnnhhh!!” and fall right off of me. I get up and take a moment to hold my stomach… then I grab her by her blonde ponytail and sling her little ass like a bowling ball into the steel ring steps. Her back and the back of her head hit hard and I run behind her, introducing my knee to her face and hearing the “AHHH!!!” that follows. I start kicking her in the stomach until she rolls to into a ball.
“You hear that?” I say and keep kicking her in the kidneys even as the ref leaves the ring to try and get us back in it. “That’s the sound of me kicking your little ass!”
I pick her up and hold her over my head in a gorilla press, then I show off my strength and throw the little bitch over the top rope and into the ring. I casually walk up the ring steps and enter as the ref signals for the bell to ring and I put my hands together and smile as Marie is starting to stir. I move in and pull her to her knees by her hair, but the bitch head butts me in the stomach and I hear an “ULF!!” come from me and feel my legs buckle. Then, I feel her fist hit the point of my chin and I see the lights as I go down flat on my back. AWWWWWFFFF!!!! I heard something, but I didn’t know she could move that fast; the bitch climbed to the top rope and dove off, slamming her back across my stomach. She hooks my leg, 1,2, uh uh… I’m not done yet, bitch. I snake my arm around her throat while she’s laying back on me and yank her across… the result is that the back of her head slams into the mat and I can hook her leg and reverse the pin, 1,2, she kicks out… she should’ve just stayed down. I stand with one of her bare feet in each hand. I jump and kick both of my legs forward, dropping my heels, calves, thighs, and ass onto her stomach, crotch and chest and hearing that satisfying “Ugggghhhh” from her as I am now sitting on her stomach and punching her in the face.
“Come on, Marie! You’re supposed to be Ms. Hot Shit in OPW; you ain’t doing nothing special now, are you?”
I just love beating on blondes… it’s like beating on every image that I used to see as a little girl of the perfect Barbie blonde with her perfect figure and perfect little life. But that shit isn’t real; that’s bullshit. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and right now, Marie’s neck is in between my two squeezing hands.
“I heard you like to give people opportunities because you‘re so fucking inconsistent and weak,” I say, looking deep into her fading eyes, “I heard Jenn Peccavi beat you five times; I heard you lost to Britney fucking Spears and you even got your ass submitted by Lisa Pritchard when she was twelve years old. I heard you barely beat fat ass Tonya Harding and Gemma Rox mopped the floor with you at a convent. How the fuck are you so popular? I’ve been waiting for this opportunity to show what I can do and you fucked with the wrong one because I’m not gonna wait for you to give it to me… oh no, bitch, I’m gonna take it! I’m taking it right now!”
They brought this bitch in to teach me a lesson. They thought she could come in and get her skills back in order while shutting me up and putting out my light at the same time. They thought wrong. I stand and lift her up in a two handed choke. My thumbs are pressed on the soft spot underneath her chin and I hear more and more moans and the more I hear, the more I want. But the bitch throws her knees into my face and I stumble back, letting her go, just so she can kick me with both feet on the way down… fucking missile dropkick… how the fuck does this bitch still have energy? I rest on the ropes and I see her rushing in; I get ready to time her and draw back, but she stops on the dime just as my punch is on the way. She catches my fist, and pulls me into a body slam… are you fucking kidding me? Is this little bitch on steroids or something? 1,2, I kick out violently and I’m pissed off now. I bench press her off of me and she lands on her feet, then she starts kicking me, mainly going after my belly and kidneys. I bring my legs in and lower my arms; my legs can take a beating just like the rest of me, but I can’t allow her to keep going after my belly or my kidneys because I’ll be feeling all of that in the morning just like I’m feeling it right now.
“You’re not so tough now, are you?” she says, kicking me in the mouth and drawing blood, “I’ve heard of Hurricane Katrina; you’re more like Drizzle Katrina, fo shizzle, you dumb bizzle, ha ha ha!!”
That really pissed me off. It’s not so much the insult; it’s the insensitivity behind it. She kicks me hard in the ribs and I exhale; she knows she got me that time. Then she kicks my in the butt… this bitch is really getting under my skin; she really thinks her shit don’t stink.
“I just literally kicked your ass,” she says, landing another one to my kidney, “But I’ve got other things to do, so I’ve got to give you this beating with the thickness… I mean, with the quickness. Thickness would be you.”
She sits on my back and gets her arms around my neck, then she locks her legs around my waist. This is a scissor sleeper and it’s her finishing move, but it’s a move that I’ve been in before and a move I know how to get out of. Like I said, I can take a beating… I stand up and throw my body backwards, smashing all 150 lbs of my thickness down on that little blonde bitch and her arms and legs flail off of me. I get up and look down… she’s spread eagle and I yank her up by her throat and throw a knee into her belly just above her little in sticking navel.
“OOOF!!!” that’s the sound of Marie B. acknowledging that she fucked up when she signed the contract to fight me.
“I’m giving a free body massage just for you, bitch.”
“UNNNHHHH!!!” that’s the sound Marie makes when a hard right hand smashes her nose at an angle that forces her head down and jackknifes her neck.
“Time for a little toilet training, bitch!”
“GUUUUUHHH!!! UUUUGGGGHHHH!!!! UMMMMM!!!!” that’s the sound Marie makes when three hard uppercuts hit her just below her navel and I feel her belly softening. I love hitting bitches in the stomach and the face, but there’s nothing like the sound a bitch makes when she gets hit in the belly. It’s just as fulfilling to me as making a bitch quit and beg me to stop beating her ass. I take my hand and claw her, sticking my thumbnail in her navel and pressing upward. Using a belly claw is another one of my favorite moves; just ask Girl Wrestler Joanne. I humbled that bitch, had her looking at me like she was about the cum, submitted her, and made her post it all over my wall.
“NNNNGGGGGHHHH… GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!” that’s the sound of Marie B. in a belly claw… or the Katrina Klaw. A fan asked me how I came up with the name for that move; I wanted to slap him.
I push her back a bit and she slowly raises her fists… I hit her with a straight right, right between her eyes and she crosses them and almost goes down. I kick her crotch so hard, she coughs and jumps into my arms. I love using the bear hug, especially on these little bitty bitches, and I can feel her fading, but the little bitch is hitting me with both fists in the face and I don’t like that. She’s hurting me and trying to mount a comeback… okay cxnt, you want me to go down… fine. I drop to one knee, but when I do, I twist her body and slam the pit of her belly across my knee.
“Game over, Marie.”
“Oooooh” that’s the sound of a crowd reacting to my moves, “…….” is the silence in between. They can’t believe this, but I can. She’s done and I climb up the top turnbuckle and dive off, flipping my body into a 450 splash and crashing down on her…
“Uhhhhhh…” is the last sound I hear from her as the ref counts the 1,2,3. I can move for a girl my size and I’m sure seeing my flying through the air surprised her, but it didn’t surprise the crowd. They see me do it all the time. I pull her up by her left ear and fling her out of the ring as the crowd boos me. I raise my arms and look at them; they can’t stand me, but they better learn how. I’m moving up to the big time after this. I squashed their great little blonde hope, sent down here to kick my ass and use me as practice. As if this bitch could fuck with me. I’ve gone toe to toe with Jenn Peccavi and I mopped the floor with Girl Wrestler Joanne. You don’t fuck with this mad Black woman; you better read the diary first. I watch her walk up the ramp, holding as many of her aching body parts as she can and I laugh loudly, putting my hand on my stomach, though I’m holding it just as much as I’m mocking her… she did hurt me there. But she didn’t hurt me there enough that I don’t go out to Fuddrucker’s later that night and get me a burger with steak fries and chill with my girls. And yes, the check for beating Marie B. is the biggest I’ve ever made; it was more than I was making in a full year when I first started wrestling.
The very next morning I get a call from somebody at OPW… says his name is Chance.
“Hello Katrina.”
“Yes; this is she.”
“We’ve been admiring your work and we love the attitude you display, both in the ring and out of it. You’re a consistent performer and you, as they say, ‘keep it real.’ We want to give you a chance to make it to the big, big time.”
“I gonna make it, with or without you. As long as I’m dropping bitches, I’m raising my stock. I sure as hell dropped that weak ass hyped up bitch Marie that you guys put all that money into.”
“Yes, uhm, we saw that. There’s a reality show we’ve been doing for a few years now and the last season was by far, the most popular season to date. It’s called ‘The Ultimate Catfighter.’ I don’t know if you’ve heard of it or not, but we’d like for you to fly out here to Los Angeles and we can talk about it. I can e-mail you a first class ticket, all expenses paid.”
And they say that being mean doesn’t pay off. Humph, but I’m not mean; I’m just real. And I’m on my way up; all those bitches who doubted me or tried me are in for a rude awakening when they turn on their tv sets and see my beautiful face standing over a broken bitch, the same way I stood over them. I have simple rules. Don’t fuck with me; don’t fuck with my money; don’t fuck with my friends; the best person to discuss me with is me; say it to my face, not behind my back; and I will fuck you up if you break any of my rules, even if you‘ve apologized. I’m Katrina, and if I hit you, FEMA, Bush, Clinton, President Obama, all the king’s horses and all the king’s men won’t be able to make you recover because you will be knocked the fuck out. Peace.
THE END?
