BATTLE ROYAL: American Girl vs. British Beauty at the Royal Wedding
by Supporturgoddess
The Setting: A small, open-air café in England
The Time: Shortly before The Royal Wedding
A beautiful young woman hurriedly clears a table and then returns to a customer. The run up to the royal wedding was proving anything but a holiday for British beauty Julia Charendoff. Struggling through the downturn in the global economy, the little café where Julia worked barely made a profit. Tourist season provided a desperately needed boost each year. American tourists were best, if only because of their predictability. Most came for a once-in-a-lifetime vacation and, knowing they might never return, they tended to buy anything they deemed sufficiently “British”. American tourist melted before any variation of an authentic British accent (though any Brit would point out Americans are the ones with the accent). They could also be mesmerized by common things Julia and her friends took for granted. Julia brushes back shoulder-length, black hair and rolls her eyes. Ah, Americans, so sweetly naïve. She had to love them…well, most of them, anyway. There were of course a tiny few who fit the very definition of “the ugly Americans”, stereotypical blowhards and know-it-alls. These, however, were few, a dying breed. Most came to with a genuine wonder and awe for the nation and people they visited.
The Americans came to the café mostly in the spring and summer. This year offered an additional enticement. The royal wedding brought Americans in droves, weeks before the event. In hopes of luring the oncoming wave of tourist to his shop, the owner of the café went all out in an effort to appeal to American tourists’ hunger for all things British. He hastily revised the menu to include bangers, fish and chips, shepherd’s pie, and other items American’s would see as appropriately “English”. He hung British flags everywhere. Poster paper and cans of red, white, and blue paint used to make promotional signs still lie against a wall in a corner.
He also ordered a change in his employees’ attire. For that reason, Julia wears a skin tight, bright blue halter top accented by a Union Jack pattern stretched across the five-foot-tall Brit’s impressive breasts. She wears a bright, shiny red mini skirt cut so high on her thighs that she cannot bend over without exposing the lowest part of her hips. Her white sandals are meant to cut down on any distraction from her magnificent legs.
Heads turn. Julia looks up and sees two attractive American girls about her age heading for the café. The first is a pale, thin redhead, standing perhaps 5’4” tall. Even from a distance, Julia recognizes the look in her eyes. The redhead is enraptured by everything around her. Her bashful demeanor and modest attire might have kept her unnoticed, if not for the presence of her companion. The second girl stands 5’2”, with dark eyes and very long, brown hair. She wears a dark red tank top decorated with an American flag over her ample breast and navy-blue shorts so dark they are almost black, covered by white stars.
Julia approaches the Americans.
“Hi!” The redhead chirps, pleasantly. “I’m Alyson. This is my best friend, Marie.”
Julia smiles. “I assume you’re not from the local area?”
“Oh no,” Alyson replies, naively unaware of Julia’s joke. “We’re Americans.”
“I’d never have guessed.”
Julia hands them menus. Julia and Marie’s eyes lock fast on the flags on each other’s breasts. Their gaze slowly drifts up, until they stare into each other’s eyes. Marie gives Julia a quick raise of her eyebrows and the tiniest hint of a challenging, taunting smile. Julia returns it in kind.
Julia turns to Alyson. “What’ll it be, luv?”
The redhead smiles. Sheepishly. “I hate to sound so ignorant, but…I’m not sure what any of this stuff is.”
For just a moment, Julia considers the wicked fun she could have with the naïve American, but then she looks down into already huge, green eyes magnified to comical proportions by wide-rimmed glasses. She sees genuine sweetness…and more. She sees deep admiration in the redheaded American’s eyes, not only for Britain, but for her. Flattered, Julia decides to be kind, helping Alyson with the menu.
When Julia briefly turns her attention to other customers, Alyson turns to Marie and whispers, “She’s very pretty, isn’t she?”
“Not by my standards,” Marie says, tossing back her long hair.
“Oh, come on!” Alyson says. “British girls tend to be really cute, but this one is absolutely gorgeous!”
Julie returns with the girls meals.
“Here for William and Kate?”
“Uh huh,” Alyson says. “It’s all so amazing! I guess I don’t have to tell you! You’re closer to it than I am.”
Julia sighs. “Only geographically, luv. I’m as far removed from a world of carriages and courtiers as you are. I’m just a working class girl from a working class family. I’m no one special”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Alyson says, breathlessly. “You’re about the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen! Believe me, if you had been queen back in the 1700’s, our guys would never have left England! You couldn’t have pried them away from you!”
Julia laughs, her cheeks blushing red from the sincere flattery. She doesn’t know what to say.
Alyson speaks instead. “All this pageantry and spectacle is amazing. We don’t have anything like it back home.”
Marie rolls her eyes. “Thank God for that!”
Julia looks at Marie. Their eyes lock.
Alyson gives Marie a look of disapproval. Her lips silent form the words “Please don’t….”
Marie almost laughs, disdainfully. “I’m just saying that all this effort could have been used on more important things. We’d never throw our money away like this.”
“And yet,” Julia counters, “you came all the way to my country to experience it. As your friend said, you don’t have anything to compare. Jealous?”
Marie’s eyes narrow. “This trip was Alyson’s idea, not mine! I just came along to take care of her.”
Alyson grumbles. “I didn’t invite you. I can take care of myself.”
Marie seizes Alyson’s arm, twisting it sharply. “You’d be lost without me!”
Alyson whines. “Ow! Ow! Okay! I--I guess you’re right….”
Julia starts forward, but she decides the squabble is none of her business. She turns to walk away.
In a loud voice, Marie says, “Americans wouldn’t waste so much money on two people, when so many others are in need.”
A murmur spreads through the British crowd.
Julia turns back. “Perhaps all this pageantry seems a bit much, but this is a very rare event, isn’t it? The marriage of a future monarch happens only once in a generation. How much money do you Americans spend every single year, to celebrate the 4th of July? You have your national monuments. We have our monuments and our monarchy. The question of the Monarchy’s relevance in modern times is hotly debated. Perhaps the monarchy will vanish one day. Maybe it will last. Either way, WE’LL decide. We don’t need your advice on the matter.”
Whispers of approval spread through the café.
Marie’s mouth opens into a wide, taunting grin. “At least all Americans are equal! We don’t let one family live off the toil of everyone else. Those guys are just a bunch of freeloaders and moochers!”
Anger builds in the crowd.
Julia turns back to the table, leaning down over Alyson and Marie. “Let me give you a friendly word of advice. People like to celebrate at celebrations. They often drink more than they should. Some might not ignore your criticism. If you can’t behave properly, maybe you should return to your hotel, before someone decides to quiet you down!”
Marie sneers. “Are you threatening me?”
“No,” Julia replies. “I’m trying to keep you out of trouble.”
Marie stands. “Are you looking for trouble?”
“I won’t back away from it,” Julia replies, standing up to the American.
The five-foot-tall, 110 lb Brit and the 5’2”, 120lb American face off, toe to toe.
Marie pokes Julia with one finger, jabbing it into the Union Jack over Julia’s breasts. “I stand by my opinion of your royal family.”
Julia pokes her finger equally hard into the American flag on Marie’s dark red top. “You’re entitled to your opinion, but it doesn’t count for much. We’ll decide our own affairs, if you don’t mind!”
Marie shoots back. “That doesn’t change the fact your royals are moochers!”
A voice comes out of the crowd. “Say what you will about out monarchy, Yank. Everyone who’s anyone is at this wedding. Your leaders weren’t invited. What does that say about your president, Yank?”
Marie hisses, “That was a slap in the face! It only proves some people have no class!”
“Who do you mean?” Overwhelmed by a need to defend her national honor, Julia responds. “Who would seem to lack class, those throwing the grandest event of an era, or those who didn’t merit an invitation to it?”
Both girls draw back fists. Alyson leaps up between them. “Please, let’s not do this!”
Alyson faces Marie. “Think of all the extra security an American president would require. If the President doesn’t attend, maybe it’s because of all the protests and difficulties his presence might cause. Remember, this is a young couples’ wedding day. The day should be all about them, without distractions! Besides, even though were the closest of allies, we’re not truly united. Remember, we demanded the right to break away from The Crown. Now you’re angry because we’re not at the top of their guest list? Think of it this way. Sometimes after a divorce, the man and woman remain the very best of friends. Even so, if you demand separation, you can’t very well expect to be invited to your Ex’s family reunion, can you? As close as you are, you’re not part of the family.”
Alyson turns to Julia. “I don’t see the invitation situation as a slap in the face, but you are capable of giving us a little pat on the backside once in awhile, just to remind us we’re not the center of the universe. I can respect that. This is your country. I’m only here as long as you allow it. I’m a guest. I’m honored to be here.”
Anger abated, Julia whispers, “I’d be happy to have YOU in my country any day.”
Julia backs off.
As the Americans sit, Marie tugs hard at Alyson’s hair.
“O-w-w!”
Marie hisses. “Don’t you EVER embarrass me again! If you ever take her side against me again, you’ll be sorry!”
After a few minutes, Alyson rises. “I have to use the john, or…the loo, or…whatever.”
Alyson ducks out of sight and waits for Julia.
“I wanted to apologize for my friend’s behavior.”
“I saw her pulling your hair,” Julia says. “Why do you put up with her?”
“I tried to be rid of her once,” Alyson explains. “She beat me up…bad. I’m no match for her.”
“Well,” Julia says, “I am!”
Julia marches to the table and stands over Marie, hands on hips. “We don’t stand for bullying here. If you assault your friend again, you will pay for it!”
The crowd cheers the little Brit on. Marie rises.
Alyson tries to break it up, but Julia raises her hand. “Stay out of this, Alyson. This girl needs to be put in her place!”
Suddenly Marie grabs a glass and tosses the contents into the Union Jack emblem across Julia’s chest. A few in the crowd gasp. Julia’s mouth opens wide, insulted.
Marie shoves Julia’s shoulders back. Julia shoves Marie’s shoulders back in response. Marie lunges hard, shoving the Englishwoman off her feet. Julia’s sandals fly off. She leaps up but is almost felled by a rocketing fist. She ducks the wild punch and tackles Marie down. The girls roll, fighting for dominance. Marie ends up on top. Marie’s American flag covered breasts press down hard, pinning Julia’s blue covered breasts beneath them.
Marie taunts, “Do you think I’m afraid of you? I’m…an…American! We kicked your British butts in two wars!”
Julia strains. “Ughhhh!” She rolls Marie off. They roll. After a long struggle, Julia ends up on top of Marie, her Union Jack emblem pressing down over the American flag beneath it, blue covered breast dominating red.
Alyson watches in amazement, as her new friend defends her. Alyson hovers over the struggling pair. She looks down at Marie, held fast beneath the Brit’s body.
Alyson peeps, “Actually, what you said isn’t exactly true. During the Revolutionary Era, Britain controlled territories from Canada to the Caribbean. Their forces were stretched thin. Our forces never faced the full force of their military. Britain actually had the Colonist on the ropes until France and Spain intervened on our behalf. We won our share of battles, but it wasn’t as one-sided as most Americans think. We had to double team and even triple team the British to win. If the Colonist had fought the full force of the entire British military without any help, our side probably wouldn’t have stood much of a chance. We would have been outmatched.”
A teasing little smile spreads across Alyson’s lips. She looks down into Marie’s eyes and taunts, “You look a little outmatched yourself.”
Enraged, Marie shouts and kicks Julia off her. The opponents rise. The American kicks off her shoes for better traction. They circle. They lunge together, locking up fingers between fingers, palms pressing together. Muscles flex visibly in each woman’s bare arms and shoulders, as each tries to overpower the other. The American slowly pushes the Brit back against a wall. Marie’s leg shoots up. The top of her thigh slams into Julia’s stomach. She repeats the action. Julia shouts. She bends over, her face turning slightly green, looking like she might throw up. Marie tries again, but Julia blocks Marie’s leg with her own. Julia sneers, grabs two fistfuls of Marie’s long hair, and fires four lightning-fast knees into Marie’s stomach. Marie staggers back, bent over, crouching low. Marie looks up just in time to see the bottom of the Brit’s bare foot coming straight at her face. The next thing she knows, she lies sprawled out on her back. Stunned, the American tries to prop up. The Brit stomps her foot down onto the flag over Marie’s chest, slamming Marie back down, hard. A few camera phones record Julia’s triumphant moment. Glassy eyed, Marie looks first at the foot on her chest and then slowly up at the Englishwoman standing haughtily over her, hands on hips.
Julia looks down with a taunting grin. She has dealt with Marie’s type before and knows exactly how to get under their skin and drive them crazy.
Pressing her foot hard on Marie’s breasts, Julia taunts, “Allow me to continue the history lesson your friend began. It’s true you won your independence largely because we deemed you less valuable than some of our other territories, and that even so, you needed the help of France to gain your independence. You said we fought two wars. The second conflict is known as The War of 1812. In that conflict, our forces sent your forces running in fear. British forces chased the Americans out of their own capital, and then burned it practically to the ground! Now consider that though we reduced your capital to ashes, in two wars, American forces never managed to so much as make the tiniest scratch on the tiniest house in the tiniest town in England! I think that pretty much puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?”
Marie’s feet stamp wildly in a mini-tantrum. “We won!”
“What, exactly, do you think you won?”
“You failed to recapture our land!”
“Stupid Yank! That was never our goal! You declared war on us, not the other way ’round!”
Lulled to distraction, Julia fails to notice Marie bringing her feet up to her torso. She kicks Julia’s knees. Julia cries out, falling backward and striking her head on the corner of a table. Julia grabs her head, curling into a ball.
Marie stands over Julia, stomping her. “You should’ve known I’d win in the end. I’m an American! Why do you hate America so much, anyway?”
Between brutal stomps and the shouts accompanying them, Julie says, “I don’t (EEE!) hate…(UGH!) America! I…(OOF!) like America, very much. I (OW!) like most Americans, too. I JUST DON’T LIKE YOU!”
Julia lunges, driving the top of her head into Marie’s gut, sending Marie over backward. They sit up facing each other and start kicking, wildly. The British beauty’s slightly shorter legs have her at a disadvantage, as the Americans kicks land more firmly. Julia tries to back away, but Marie chases her down. Marie corners Julia against a wall, kicking her brutally. The Brit in the brighter colors cries out, trying vainly to block. Suddenly, Marie cups her foot over Julia’s throat! Julia’s eyes bulge! She kicks and flails, frantically. A few spectators rise to save her, but she finds her own way out, grabbing Marie’s toes and yanking them apart as hard as she can. Marie crawls away, leaving Julia sitting against the wall in the corner, clutching her throat, gasping for breath.
Julia sees Marie returning for her. She lifts her hands, gasping, “Wait….”
Marie has no intention of giving the Brit an instant to recover. She pulls Julia up by her hair and almost kicks her foot straight through Julia’s midsection. Julia falls like a rag doll at Marie’s feet. Julia appears all but out, but Marie intends to make sure. She pulls her up again. The little Brit’s ankles turn under. She can barely stand. Her eyes close halfway.
Marie grins, smugly. “The U.S. is the greatest, wealthiest, most powerful, and most scientifically advanced nation in the history of the world. An American girl can beat a British girl any day!”
Marie holds Julia’s arms down by her sides, stares into Julia’s tearing eyes, and then spits at the British flag across her chest. Gasps fill the crowd. Alyson cringes. Julia’s mouth drops open in shock and outrage, but Marie closes it with a fist to her chin. Julia flies back against a table. Marie charges, but Julia manages to kick her feet up between them, pushing Marie off against an adjacent table.
Julia rages. “A lot you know! Scientifically advanced, are you? Without Brits like Sir Isaac Newton, modern science wouldn’t even exist!”
Julia charges, but Marie is waiting. The onlookers cheer the local girl on. A vicious but brief battle ensues, complete with hair pulling, scratching, kicking and choking. The Englishwoman gets the upper hand. Julia lands a teeth-rattling punch to Marie’s jaw and follows with a kick to her ribs. Marie’s pride keeps her on her feet, but she is in full retreat. A tremendous backhand blow sends Marie spinning. Her top half flops out face-down across a table.
Shouts of “Finish her, Julia!” fill the air.
Julia marches up behind Marie, seizing her shoulders and pulling her up off the table. Marie whirls, grinding excruciatingly hot curry spices in the Brit’s beautiful eyes. Julia half screams, half cries in pain.
The sole American spectator, Alyson, shouts, “Cheater!”
Julia staggers, tripping on her own feet. Hands over her eyes, Julia leaves her midsection open to a merciless kick. Julia falls to her knees, coughing and gagging. Marie reaches down, seizes Julia’s shoulder-length hair, and flips the madly screaming Englishwoman completely off her feet by the hair. Julia slams down with her back across the table. Marie hammers slaps down across her face. Julia stares up at the ceiling, eyes glassy and almost crossed. Alyson cringes, having seen that look on many of Marie’s past conquests. She knows the Brit is all but beaten.
Marie slides up on top the dazed Brit, mounting her.
Marie laughs in Julia’s face. “I warned you, stupid! An American girl will beat a British girl, every time! Oh, and yes, in fact. America IS the most advanced country in the world. We have the largest economy. We have the greatest military, too. Why do you think everyone always turns to us for help? You never had a chance in this fight, Brit!”
This time Marie spits directly into Julia’s face.
Marie smiles, wickedly. “Now, I think I’ll take a souvenir of my victory.”
Julia watches groggily, as Marie’s fingers tear at the top of her bright, blue top. Her eyes widen, realizing Marie doesn’t intend to tear the Union Jack emblem off her chest. She intends to tear it in half! Julia kicks and thrashes, madly. She grabs Marie’s hands, holding them off. Frustrated by her inability to finish the Brit, Marie reaches over and grabs a bottle of wine. She brandishes the bottle high over head, threatening to send it crashing down over the pinned Brit’s forehead. A hand seizes Marie’s wrist, pulling the bottle away.
Alyson snaps, “If you’re so superior, why do have to fight dirty? Fight fair, if you can!”
Marie snarls. “I warned you, Bitch!”
Marie drives a brutal kick into Alyson’s gut and then sends her down with a right cross.
The table overturns. Many in the crowd stand and move toward Marie.
From her hands and knees, Julia holds up her hand. “No. This is MY fight!”
“Happy to hear it,” Julia boasts.
She slams her foot under Julia’s chin. Julia flies over onto her back. Marie pulls Julia up by her hair and spins her with a slap to her jaw. As Julia struggles to keep her legs under her, she feels powerful arms snaking around her neck. Marie begins a brutal choke. Marie’s right arm wraps around Julia’s neck, while her left hand rests on the back of the Brit’s head, pushing it down, completing the choke. Julia’s eyes bulge. She kicks back against tables, flails wildly and kicks at empty air, but she cannot break the hold. She pulls with all her might at Marie’s arm, but Marie is to strong. Julia weakens, rapidly. She can no longer raise her legs to kick. She paws pitifully at Marie’s iron arms, until her hands slide off and drop limply at her sides.
Spectators plead. “Stay on your feet! Don’t let her take you down!”
The Brit’s heart fights to comply, but her body cannot endure. She sinks until she sits on the ground. Her legs slide straight out and wide apart. The shouting crowd sounds oddly distant, as a roar feels her ears. Her face turns blue. Her eyes begin to close. Her chin drops. She looks down through half-open eyes and sees the still-entact Union Jack emblem on her chest, an emblem Marie is sure to tear off if she wins. Tiny embers light in the Brit’s eyes. The embers grow into conflagration, as new determination burns in Julia’s soul.
Julia tries with all her strength to pull Marie’s arm down off her throat, but Marie is too strong. Julia then catches Marie completely by surprise. Instead of pulling Marie’s arm down, she pulls it up over mouth and bites the inside of her arm. Marie throws her head back, yelling in pain. Head thrashing, hair whipping side-to-side, Marie fights back, squeazing Julia’s head until it turns red. Marie lets out a final cry, losing the battle of wills. She crawls off, clutching her arm.
A mighty cheer comes from the crowd.
Julia reaches her hands and knees. Marie returns, seizing Julia’s hair again. She yanks the British beauties head back and forth savagely by her hair. Scalp on fire, Julia screams.She hugs the standing American’s leg and bites her thigh. Marie howls, but pulls up one of Julia’s hands, biting the Brit’s fingers. Screaming, the Brit cannot withstand the pain. Having lost the battle of wills, Julia is an easy target. Marie sends her flying into a large bench, which overturns. Julia topples over it, becoming trapped between the bench and the wall behind her. Marie charges, but cannot find a way to get at her enemy. Frustrated, Marie climbs up over the overturned bench, peers down, and sees the bottom of the Englishwoman’s foot coming straight up at her face! Marie crashes down against the opposing corner wall. Julia climbs up and, seeing her foot still against Marie’s face, grinds it in, with the American’s head trapped against the wall.
Desperately unwanted tears stream down the boastful American’s eyes. She tries to crawl away. Julia lifts her foot high and then slams it down on the American’s foot, grinding it against the cobblestones beneath. Marie cries out, her long, brown hair whipping wildly. Julia steps up and kicks Marie over onto her back. The Brit then grinds her bare foot in the Americans face.
The crowd cheers.
Between gasps, Julia says, “I’m sick of you acting like you’re so much better than everyone else. Let’s get something straight, Yank. You boast of the size of your nation’s economy. You’re forgetting that we are part of a vast commonwealth. In the case of a major trade war, these countries would likely side with us, not you. Add to that the probability that the E.U. would be on our side, and you must realize we could have you on the ropes in no time!”
“Ha!” Marie twists Julia’s foot. Julia topples off. They rise evenly, but Julia lands two lightning-fast slaps to Marie’s face, sending her back down to her knees. She grabs the American’s long, brown hair, lifts her to her feet, and then spins her by her hair, round and round in a wide circle. Finally, she flips the screaming American off her feet by her hair. Marie’s back slams down hard on the cobblestones. Marie lets out a half-choked cry, arching her back in pain.
Marie tries to sit up, but Julia stomps her foot flat across the flag-inspired emblem on Marie’s chest, slamming her back down. Marie lies helplessly underfoot, looking up at Julia.
Marie’s stomps the ground. Her hands and feet flail. She throws a mini-tantrum. She turns to Alyson. “Get her off me!”
Alyson’s eyes narrow. “No.”
“Traitor! Are you just going to stand there while she wipes her feet on our flag?”
Alyson props up on her side. “It looks to me like she’s wiping her feet on YOU! She’s only defending her country against all the attacks you’ve made!” Alyson wipes blood from the corner of her mouth. “Besides, do you really think I would help you, after you did this to me? I used to be afraid of you, but now I see Julia’s a better woman than you could ever be. Know what? So am I! I’ll never let you boss me around again!”
Applause spreads.
Alyson adds, “You started this, so finish it, if you’re woman enough. I don’t think you are. I think Julia’s gonna’ kick your butt!”
Marie growls. “I’ll get you for this, Alyson. Someday, I’ll--”
Julia stomps her foot down hard on Marie’s breasts, cutting off her tirade.
“If you want to bully someone,” Julia says, “why not try that with me?”
Marie scratches her fingernails along Julia’s lower legs. Julia shrieks. Marie hugs Julia’s legs, slamming her down, hard. The women roll. It is woman against woman, body vs. body, head to toe. Luscious thighs slide and slam, as legs lock together. Hand to hand, arms vs. arms, they strain to prove superiority. They employ their only remaining weapons, biting each other, savagely. Each beauty cries out in anguish. It is now a dog fight, and only one can rule the yard. The loser must crawl away in shame, tail tucked between her legs. Marie opens her mouth wide, while Julia takes smaller, faster, hungrier bites. Soon each women’s upper chest, shoulders, and face is covered in the other’s saliva. Warm bellies rub. It is a battle of hearts, minds, bodies…and womanhood. Soon the better woman emerges, while the loser’s tail is firmly tucked. Marie is pinned on the bottom, her feet kicking in the air. She screams, cries, and finally surrenders.
Julia is not yet in a merciful mood. She continues biting the American until she screams for mercy. Julia then pulls off Marie’s top, exposes her stomach, and fires dozens of brutal punches into Marie’s belly. Marie is utterly finished. Julia stands over the sobbing girl. For a long time, Julia stands victoriously, as Marie pouts in defeat and shame. Julia rolls Marie to her front, pinches her fingers around Marie’s chin, lifting her head so she looks up into Julia’s eyes.
Julia gloats. “Everyone with a camera or camera phone should come close. You’ll want to see this! Don’t worry. She won’t bite. I own the bitch. I own you, don’t I Yank?”
Marie sobs. “Yes. You own me!”
Julia bends Marie’s arm up behind her back, twisting it to the breaking point.
Julia grins down at her beaten foe. “Now, allow me to complete your lesson, Yank. MY country is every bit as respected around the world as yours. If your country is so bloody brilliant, why is the top rated television program in your country merely a knockoff of a popular British show? Even the colors of that flag you wore on your chest aren’t original. You founding fathers had to steal OUR colors! They weren’t very original, were they? Bloody Hell! No one on Earth speaks American, not even in America! Need I say more?
“Now, tell everyone here that I’ve kicked your flabby American bum!”
Marie sobs. “Y-You bitch!”
“Perhaps,” Julia replies. “Too bad you’re not woman enough to do anything about it. Now, do as I say!”
Julia corkscrews Marie’s arm up behind her back until it appears ready to break. Marie bites her own knuckles, feet pounding behind her. Her pride demands she hold on, but her pain wins out.
Marie finally bawls. “W-a-a-a-a-a-a-h! Merccy! I’m beging yo-o-o-o-o! Y-you kicked my butt, okay? I give u-u-u-u-p!”
Julia laughs. Knowing the hyper-nationalistic, prideful girl would almost rather die than be forced to say the words, Julia demands, “Now, Marie, shout, ’God save the queen!’
“God save the Queen!” Marie screams. “God save the queen!”
Julia says, “Now, tell everyone that Britain is the greatest nation on Earth!”
Marie tries to refuse, but Julia twists her wrist farther and farther.
Feet kicking behind her in a blur, Marie screams. “Britain is the greatest nation in the world! I admit it! I admit it!”
“Now shout Rule Britainnia!”
Breaking down completely, Marie cries, “Rule Britannia! I’ll say anything you want! Britain rules!”
“Indeed,” Julia remarks.
Julia drops the American and presses her foot down over Marie’s dark-blue, star-covered hips.
Julia stomps Marie’s star-spangled butt. She then carefully tears the American flag emblem off the front of Marie’s torn top, rolls Marie over onto her back, and sits down in a chair. She crosses her legs. Marie looks up helplessly, as Julia dangles her bare foot inches over her face. Julia prepares to wipe her feet with the American flag emblem, just to drive Marie crazy. Then Julia catches a glimpse of Alyson, wincing and shaking her head, grimacing at the thought of what Julia is about to do.
“No.” Julia stops. “I won’t do it. Just because this cow insisted upon acting the part of the ugly American doesn’t mean I must play the part of the ugly Brit in response! I’m better than that.” She looks down at Marie. “I’m better than you.”
Julia smiles to Alyson. “I like America. I like Americans. One bad apple doesn’t ruin an orchard. I know most American’s aren’t like her.”
Alyson replies, “We’re not. I mean, we’re very proud of our country, but we don’t have to be rude or--”
“We know,” Julia says. “We know.”
Julia hands Alyson the flag she tore off Marie’s top.
A devilish smile spreads across Julia’s lips. “Besides, I have a much better idea for her!”
Julia ties Marie’s hands behind her back and ties strips of Marie’s torn shirt over her mouth to gag her and keep her from calling for help. She then walks over to the paint and poster boards used to advertise the café to tourists. She hurriedly makes two signs using the poster paper to hand around Marie’s neck, one on her chest, and the other over her back. Then Julia dips her foot in a can of red paint and presses it firmly down on Marie’s star-spangled rear end, leaving her footprint across Marie’s hips.
She places the signs over Marie’s shoulders. Each reads, “I’ve had my American bums kicked by a superior Englishwoman.”
Julia pulls Marie to her feet and laughs in her face. “Now run back to your hotel, Marie. If we’re lucky, you’ll get halfway there before anyone helps you. By then half the town will get a look at you!”
Alyson adds, “Don’t even think of pressing charges. I’ll testify that you started it, and that it’s all your fault. I’m sure everyone here will agree. You’re lucky she’s letting you off this easy!”
Julia points down the street. “Go!”
Tears of shame rolling, the hopelessly defeated girl runs away. Within seconds, roars of laughter fill the air down one block and then the next. Cameras flash, recording Marie’s shame. Marie’s humiation was just beginning.
***
Alyson will see the royal wedding, even if at a considerable distance. Even so, she will be there. She will watch as history unfolds before her eyes. Alyson will cherish the memory forever. She will also cherished her new best friend, Julia.
