Years ago in rural Pennsylvania, I heard what happened to some 30 year-old biker chick/stripper who was caught selling drugs at a local high school during a evening girl's volleyball game. She had just finished a transaction with a girl in the girl's locker room when she stepped back out into the cold. She was carrying a gun but didn't think she'd need it. Little did she know that she's just been set up by some high school girls. Thin and about five-five, clad in dark Levi's, a leather jacket and boots--with a black and orange Harley bandana wrapped across her forehead, this blonde, who's name was Brenda, walked back to her car. But a big surprise was waiting for her. Let's join the action . . .
Brenda had parked about twenty-five feet from the tall, chain-linked fence which marked the extreme eastern end of the main parking lot. The lot stretched well beyond the eastern end of the high school. It took Brenda four minutes to traipse back to her car. When she finally found it in the crowded lot, she was surprised to see three high school girls sitting on the front hood. It was extremely cold and she wondered how long they’d been outside. A person could freeze to death in this weather.
Two of the girls (both eighteen) wore light blue school jackets with black ’08 shoulder patches. They hunched their shoulders and bounced up and down to stay warm. In the middle, a fat eighteen-year-old girl wore a heavy, green sweatshirt over what appeared to be a plaid Catholic school girl’s skirt. One of her shoes rocked back and forth and was hitting the bottom grill of Brenda’s car in a hollow, rhythmic thunk. Several other kids were hanging around at nearby cars, but the game was apparently still in progress.
“Hey, get the hell off my car,” Brenda shouted. She emerged from a strip of snow-covered grass and approached the trio of youngsters. She stopped five feet from the car and pulled her hands out of her pocket. “I said get off my car.”
Two of the girls jumped off. The girl who remained seated on her Trans Am weighed at least two-hundred-fifty pounds. She smiled and looked at her friends as she remained on the car, one leg still rocking back and forth and striking the bottom grill of the Trans Am. Her friends smiled as they looked at her, then at Brenda.
“Get off my car. Now!”
“Yeah, and who’s gonna make me?” said the fat girl, as she kicked the grill even harder.
Brenda’s throat churned, and she knew the girl saw it. The teen was staring right at her—a smug smile pasted on her round face. The smile suddenly disappeared as the girl scooted off the Trans Am, releasing the weight off the front end. The shocks squeaked. The cocky girl trudged toward Brenda. Brenda put her hand in her jacket and grasped the 25-caliber to make sure it was still there. The girl watched her.
“Hey, what do you have in your pocket?” the girl said.
“Nothing.”
Brenda released her grip on the gun. She’d pull it out as a last resort. She’d probably have to fight the girl to get to her car, or talk her way out of fighting somehow. It was up to the girl. What was it with all these fat girls in this town? McDonald’s must’ve been making a fortune up here in Pennsylvania. Brenda was from Texas.
The fat girl waddled up and shoved Brenda by the shoulder. “Come on, biker bitch. Whatch (sic) you got?”
Brenda stumbled backwards, her boot heels tangled. The girl laughed at her, as did her friends. Brenda glared at the lard ass. “Come on, wimp!” the girl said, sensing the hostility and again walking toward her smaller prey. “You think you’re tough ‘cause you wear leather. I’ll kick your ass.”
A group of students started forming a large semi-circle around the passenger’s side of the Trans Am. Brenda’s throat churned as she glanced over and saw at least twelve kids—half of them guys.
“It’s a nice ass anyway,” one guy said to Brenda. The others laughed.
“Wonder if she can fight?” said another. One guy even had a cell phone handy and appeared ready to film the event, perhaps planning to later share it on MySpace.com or YouTube.
The kids started chanting: “Fight . . . Fight . . . Fight.”
The teen pushed Brenda back again, jarring her neck. The girl was at least five inches taller and more than twice her weight, but Brenda walked toward her and shoved her back. “Fat ass!” She didn’t budge her. The girl chuckled as she held up both arms and shrugged, as if puzzled by the stupid move and expecting more.
Brenda knew it was a stupid move because she couldn’t win a grappling match with the girl—if it came to that. Her only chance was to hit or kick the girl and hopefully get enough behind the blow to do some damage.
“Well, is that all you got?” The girl looked away for a couple seconds to study the reaction of the crowd. Most stood with their mouths open, anticipating the impending action. Brenda curled her right fist, lunged toward her and punched the teenager in the jaw. Brenda’s fist stung from the cold as she jerked it back, hoping the sucker punch would end things right there. The girl stood with her head turned for several seconds as the other kids stared at her, eyes and mouths widened in anticipation. But to Brenda’s dismay, the girl didn’t fall or stumble. She slowly turned her head and glared at her.
“Whew, someone’s gonna get their ass kicked,” a guy said.
“Skinny chick’s going down,” said another.
“Get her, Jimmy Sue,” said a friend. “She’s nothing.”
Brenda’s heart pounded. She had just started to crouch in a fighting stance, arms raised and ready to throw a roundhouse kick, when a right haymaker slammed into her jaw and knocked her on her back. The move was lightening quick and caught Brenda by surprise. Brenda landed spread-eagled by her rear tire. Blood tricked from the corner of her mouth. Her jaw felt as if it had been repositioned three inches to the right. She lay still for a few seconds before slowly raising her head. A dozen faces stared down at her.
Brenda pushed herself up with both hands and wiped some blood from her mouth. She then looked up at the big girl from the seat of her wet pants—the heels of her boots on the pavement. Her head spun. “That all you got, biker bitch? ‘Cause if it is, you’re in a heap of trouble.”
Brenda wobbled as she stood, then wiped more blood off the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. It trickled down to her chin in a thin line. She eyed the girl. A second punch smashed her in the lips. Brenda flew back against the car, which was now the only thing keeping her on her feet. Blood now covered her chin. Some of it had splashed onto the white shirt beneath her jacket.
“Yeah, kick her ass, Jimmy Sue.”
“Come on, bad ass biker bitch,” said the girl. She took a step forward. “That all you got?” Brenda respired heavily. She leaned against the car, eyes glazed. She slowly pushed herself to her feet and faced the fat girl again. She stuck her left hand out as her legs wobbled. Her head was spinning.
The girl laughed. “I guess so.” Smirking, she stepped forward, leaned in with her massive upper body and punched Brenda in the stomach with an upward thrust. Thwack!
“Uhhhhhh!” Brenda sank to her knees. Her stomach felt like it had been shoved through her back. She couldn’t breathe.
The kids cheered. “That’s what you get for coming around here, biker slut!” some girl shouted.
The fat girl stood above Brenda in her large, green plaid skirt, fists still curled. Brenda slowly looked up at the teen for a second—blood caked on her open mouth and chin. Her chin then dropped to her chest and she collapsed face-down on the parking lot. The girl rolled her to her back with her shoe. Brenda’s arms plopped to each side as she lay spread-eagled on the pavement. Through slitted eyes as her breathing eased, Brenda saw the girl hovering above her, her legs straddling each side of her.
“That’ll teach you not to mess with someone’s truck, bitch.” As the biker chick faded into unconsciousness, she saw the girl lift her large leg. The last thing Brenda remembered was feeling a warmth flush over her face as the girl’s wide gym shoe landed on her nose.
A few hours later . . .
When Brenda awakened in a woozy haze, a huge girl named Alice Holmes was standing above her, hands placed on her trailer-size hips. She hovered above her like a mountain over a small hut as she was six-six and four hundred pounds.
A few people chatted in the distance as car doors slammed shut and engines cranked on. Brenda heard the few remaining cars pull out of the front lot. Then silence befell the school grounds, except for a few barking dogs in the distance. She and Alice were all alone.
“So we got our clock cleaned by a Catholic school girl? You’re pathetic. All over a little money.”
“You set me up.”
“Damn right, I did. Let’s just call it an eye for an eye,” said Alice.
Brenda had been moved toward the back of the school near the football stands. She squinted as she looked up at Alice. A light was blinding her above the girl’s head. Either Alice or the other girl had carried or dragged her back here away from the crowd. Her ass was in the snowy grass near a curb—back arched and the heels of her boots splayed on the pavement.
“What do you want?”
“Never mind,” said Alice. “It’s where you’re going that counts.”
“What are you going do to me?” Brenda reached into her jacket for the gun. Alice grinned.
“Missing something, are we?” Alice held the pistol up and dumped the bullet shells on top of Brenda. They bounced off her stomach and rolled to the ground. Alice then tossed the gun as far as she could over the bleachers. It clanged against the wooden bleacher seats, bounced off the concrete and crashed against a chain-link fence.
Brenda’s heart started pounding. Her mouth grew bone dry. Her lips and jaw were killing her, and she couldn’t breathe out of her broken nose. She looked to the side, then shot a glance toward her feet, which she couldn’t even see because they were hanging over the curb at a lower level than the rest of her. She wondered why everyone had taken off and no one else was around. Surely, they knew she was back here.
“Get up,” said Alice. Brenda tried to sit up but her head dropped back down to the grass. A dizzy spell waved through her.
“I said get your skinny ass up.”
Just as Brenda got to a seated position, Alice grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. Brenda looked at her—legs wobbling. A shiver of both fear and dread waved through her body as she stared at the girl’s shadowy face, knowing those large, deep-set eyes were fixed on her every move. And as Brenda’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, and with the aid of the nearby lights, she saw that the girl had her Harley bandana wrapped around her massive left arm.
Alice held both of the biker chick’s arms in front by the wrists. The blonde flinched and turned her head when Alice crossed the woman’s arms in front of her and squeezed her rib cage. Brenda gasped for air. Alice pulled her arms tighter. She felt as if she were being crushed by a python.
“Leave me alone,” said Brenda. She tried to jerk herself free, but couldn’t move. She could barely breathe. “Ohhhhhhh,” she moaned.
“I did leave you alone—too long. But I can’t bear to watch you pushing your drugs at my school anymore. Besides, I didn’t like getting beat up like that. You biker chicks ganged up on me and that wasn’t fair.”
Brenda practically inhaled her response: “I-I’m sorry. Let me go. I promise, I’ll never . . .”
“Your sister already said that to me once before, but you women continued selling drugs to kids. Then you sicced your girlfriends on me. You hurt me, Brenda. And nobody ever gets away doing that.”
“I’m really sorry.” Alice squeezed her arms tighter. Brenda winced.
“Not as sorry as you’re gonna be.” Alice smirked. “You’re something else, prancing out here in your tight little jeans and new Harley jacket. Bad-ass biker chick at a high school. You’re nothing but a stripper whore, just like all you little biker cxnts. ”
“Let me go,” said Brenda. Her throat churned as she looked up at the tall, obese girl, her arms still crossed in front of her. She barely had the energy to stand, and couldn’t bring herself to look at the girl anymore, despite her shadowy appearance.
Alice released her grip on Brenda’s wrists. She pushed the blonde back. Brenda staggered in the snow by the curb. Alice laughed.
“Workin’ at a titty bar and pushing drugs at kids. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I have a house to support,” said Brenda. “Besides, it’s none of your business. What is this?” She scowled at Alice, but got shoved back again.
“I’ll ask the questions, you trashy stripper slut. You like dancing for a living, shaking that little ass of yours?” She shoved Brenda back a third time.
“You fat bitch. You killed my sister.”
“Nah. It was an accident. The cops said your sister committed suicide by driving her car off the cliff. I guess she was depressed or something—like all of those other girls and women who killed themselves. Why do you think they call that area Suicide Peak?”
“Bev didn’t kill herself, you fat piece of shit!”
Brenda slipped on the snow as she stepped forward. She regained her footing and tried to shove Alice back, but it was like hitting a wall. Her hands just sank into six inches of stomach fat as she bounced off of the huge girl. She fell to her knees and Alice jerked her to her feet. Just as Brenda lowered her arms and looked up, after the girl released her grip on her arms, a brutal and powerful right cross connected with her jaw and knocked her off her feet. She landed on her back with a thud, and her head barely missed the metal stands supporting the bleachers.
Ambrosia. There it was again—that word that Alice kept hearing in her head.
Alice walked across the parking lot with the unconscious biker chick draped across her right shoulder. She stuffed her in the passenger’s seat of her pickup truck. Brenda slowly sank down in the seat. Alice jumped in on the driver’s side. The truck tilted a bit from her immense weight. Brenda’s head slid over and hit her shoulder, so she shoved her against the other door. The woman landed against the armrest with her left buttock pointed toward her—mouth open. A splotch of her blood streaked the window.
“You had this coming, bitch,” said Alice, as she drove out of the school parking lot. “Selling drugs is a dangerous business. It isn’t for the weak. And if you aren’t careful, you can get yourself killed. That’s just the price you pay.”
