<u>Taking out the trash</u>
(Part 1)
Author: Mr. Cage
Shelley started to turn into the 7-11. Her rough idling sedan coughed and wheezed and then cut-off. Cursing up a storm she turned the engine over. The car behind her blew its horn. Shelley waved it around. The horn blew again. Shelly waved again. This time the horn blew on. Shelly looked into her mirror right into the face of a smart-assed black bitch who was busy calling her a few choice names. Shelley didn?t play that shit. She was a big woman and a full scale white trash bar bitch. She did what came natural. She stuck her hand out the window, shot the bird and yelled a fuck you.
Della was already late to work. She gunned her engine, backed up and pulled around the white bitch?s car. She screeched to a halt opposite the right window and shouted, ?Get that wreck off the street you fucking white bitch.? Then she roared around and cut a sharp left into the 7-11 to fill up her tank.
Shelley was none to happy with that. She got her car started and pulled into the 7-11 and cut in front of the black bitch?s car. She was out in a second, dressed in her dirty light blue slacks and yellow t-shirt. Her dirty eight and a half size feet wore flip-flops. Her shoulder length dirty blonde hair was kind of stringy and ready for a wash. Shelley was a hard 28 years old, stood 5?9?? and weighed 170 pounds.
Della looked at the big white bitch and groaned silently that she didn?t have time for this shit. She was twenty minutes late for a meeting at the strip bar and her job was not that secure. She stood 5?10?? and weighed 160 pounds a lot of it in the one thing that got her the job in the first place, her boobs. Her nappy black hair was partially straightened and hung over her shoulders in thick lose braids. She wore a too tight skirt and a t-shirt with flats. Her work clothes were in a bag in the back of her car.
Della snarled, ?Back in your car, bitch. I don?t have time to fuck around.?
Shelley kicked off her flip flops and stepped forward with her fists doubled up. Della left the gas running in her car and stepped forward, shutting her door and motioning with her hands for Shelley to do something.
?Yeah, you fucking white trash ho, what are you going to do about it?
Shelley shouted, ?I?m going to shut your dirty mouth Nigger!?
With that the big white woman swung her right fist in a short arc. Della hadn?t figured on anything other than some cussing. She started to turn her head as the white fist crashed into her left cheek knocking her into the side of her car. Shelley was on her pushing her back over the car with a left hand in her face and punching down at her with the right fist. Della?s feet came off the pavement. Shelley was between her legs forcing her back over the hood of her own car, pounding her face and head.
Della took the punches and bit into Shelley?s left hand. The white woman screamed and jerked back her hand. Della set up and drove her own left fist into the center of Shelley?s face knocking her back against a gas pump. The white woman groaned and charged back into Della knocking her back on the car hood. Shelley tried to climb on top and choke Della out, but Della?s knee was up and Shelley slide of the hood and landed with a hard thud on her ass.
About that time an old Korean woman came running out of the store yelling, ?I call cops. You pay. You leave. I call cops.?
Shelley was pulling herself up. Della tossed a twenty dollar bill at the old lady. Pulled out the gas hose and rammed it into the pump holder. Shelley was standing at the front bumper. Della charged her and pushed her hard on the boobs. Shelley stumbled backwards and fell into her own car. Della jerked open her door, hopped in the car, threw it into reverse and pulled backwards nearly hitting the screaming Korean owner. After shooting the bird at the old woman, she shot one at Shelley and yelled a few choice curses at her, then Della gunned her car and pulled back onto the rode and raced away.
Michelle got up off her ass a second time. Cursed and hopped in her still running car. For once it didn?t sputter out and she whipped around and out onto the road speeding after the black bitch. The old lady just shook her fist and yelled wordlessly at the two crazy women racing down the road. Then she looked at the crunched up twenty in her fist, mumbled and returned to her store.
Della laughed as she cut a right turn onto the long four-lane surface street that served as an industrial parkway for the warehouses and small manufacturing factories that lined both sides of it. In between block buildings were small drive-in banks, fast food joints, dingy workingmen?s bars and the local tits and ass bar, the TT Twister. Whipping into the parking lot she parked out by the street with the other employee cars. Backing in until her back wheels hit the small little concrete barrier she looked into the mirror and groaned. Della quickly applied some make-up, pulled together her clothes and switched into high heels. She had made it with a minute to spar. It was turning into a good day after all.
As Della took the last step inside the door, Shelley stopped her car on the street right behind the black bitch?s car. After scrambling in her purse she found an ink pin and a piece of paper. She wrote down the license number and tore the paper in half. On the other half she wrote, ?I?ll get you Nigger.? After checking the street, she got out of her car, went to the rear and got out her tire iron. Shelley looked around again and walked beside the black bitch?s car, scraping the side of the car from the back panel to the front door. At the front door she checked for witnesses and then shattered the window and dropped in her little note. Now she was smiling. Her day too was taking a turn for the good. She made a mental note to herself to call and get the shift times and stop by to see the look on the bitch?s face when the note was found.
At 2 A. M., eight hours later, Della walked out of the bar. Her eyes were burning from the smoke, her back was sore and her feet were just plain in agony. Eight hours of poll dancing, drinking, being fondled under the table, breathing in smoke, sweat and beer fumes did nothing for her health or state of mind. As she clip clopped on her torturing high heels toward her car she didn?t see Shelley?s car parked down the street. At the car Della fumbled for her keys and then under the street light saw the broken window for the first time. She stood back and then saw the long scratch down the side of her car. What the fuck was her thought. Then she saw the note. She read it under the glare of the street light and cursed. ?I?ll kill that fucking ridge running cracker bitch.?
Della brushed the broken glass out of her seat and then pulled out, cursing all the way. About half a block away, Shelley set in her car laughing her ass off. As the black woman drove by she started her car and raced to catch up with her. It was a hot summer night and waiting in the car she had soaked through her tight t-shirt and heavy bra. Her jeans were wet too. She wore heavy boots and a thick leather belt. She had heavy costume jewelry on her fingers. She had tied her greasy hair back in a bun. At the light she pulled up next to the black bitch, honked her horn and then flipped the bird and mouthed ?Fuck you Nigger.?
Della screamed and slammed open her door denting the side of Shelley?s shit box car. Without thinking she jumped out of her car in her bare feet, leather mini, boob tube and nothing else. Shelley was out immediately. They met swinging at the back of the white woman?s car. Fists and curses flew as they twirled around in the empty street. The red light turned green and the pounding continued.
Della?s fists started Shelley?s nose and mouth bleeding. The white woman?s rings opened up cuts on Della?s cheeks, slashed her mouth open and cut her forehead. Della might have taken the big white bitch, but she was not clothed for a street fight. Once in close and tied up, the two sweaty women cursed, clawed and punched each other in a tight embrace. Shelley purposefully stomped on Della?s bare feet with her boots. The light turned red again and Della was taking the worst of it.
Della?s boob tube was done around her waist and her huge tits were swinging free in the hot night. Her nose and mouth were busted wide-open; the cuts from Shelley?s rings were getting worse; her left eye was blurred with blood from her forehead and eyebrow, and her right eye was swelling shut. Shelley kept punching and following the black woman back down the street. The white woman?s t-shirt was still protecting her even if it was bloodstained by blood spatter from the black woman and droplets of her own blood. Her fists were red and getting redder. Shelley?s nose was pouring blood and her lips were swelling up to twice their normal size. Her right eye was going to be black and her left cheek was swelling. The light turned green again.
Every time Della made a stand, the big boots would stomp her sore feet or kick her bare legs. Della finally stumbled backwards over the curve. She hit with a thud and kicked out to defend herself. Shelley took one foot on her thigh and twisted around the flailing black feet. Della tried to twist on the ground, but her leather skirt and the concrete slowed her down. Shelley was beside her and the shit kicking boots started landing. Della grunted and groaned, trying to cover up, but nothing could stop the big footed bitch from stomping on her belly, kicking her ribs and targeting her big flopping tits. One particularly nasty stomp left deep tread marks on her right boob from the white bitch?s boots. Della screamed out and grabbed herself. Shelley yelled in triumph and delivered a full kick to the black woman?s face. The light turned red.
Della moaned and jerked. Shelley looked at her handy work. The black bitch still squirmed on the ground but she was out of it. Shelley wiped some blood off her face and slowly pulled off her leather belt. She doubled it over in her hand. Just to make sure she kicked the black bitch in the ribs a couple of times. Della rolled over on her side in the fetal position. Shelley snarled, ?You fucking Nigger. Now you?re going to get whipped like the slave whore you are.?
Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack. The belt came down again and again causing Della to scream and writhe on the concrete. Eventually she was forced to crawl on her hands and knees. Blood and tears followed her path, and so did Shelley, whipping the black woman with the heavy belt again and again. Della screamed and begged with each slashing hit. Finally she crawled to a chain-linked fence and tried to climb it with her bloody hands. Shelley wrapped the belt around Della?s neck, put a knee into her back and started choking her. Della gasped and reached back over her shoulders for anything to relieve the throttling, but there was nothing.
Shelley snarled, ?Die you fucking whore.? Suddenly powerful hands grabbed her and threw her hard to the ground. A knee landed between her shoulders with about two hundred and fifty pounds on top of it. Shelley groaned. She felt her arms being twisted up behind her back and then cold steel fastened around her wrists. Totally stunned it took her several minutes to understand how she had ended up in the back seat of a squad car.
Things started to clear up when she was cleaned up at the emergency room, still under close guard by a big black cop. Across the room a white cop watched over Della as a group of doctors treated her wounds. Shelley moaned to herself. She was in deep shit and she knew it. She started formulating her story. She was attacked at the stop light by a crazy stripper and had to defend herself. Self-defense! Yeah that was it. The fact that she had kicked the bitch?s ass was only due to the fact that she was the better woman. Yeah, it was self-defense, pure and simple.
The black cop said, ?Lady you really kicked the shit out of that sister over there. You fucked up her face, put bruises and welts all over her. She?s got scrapes, cuts and bruised ribs. You?re lucky there?s nothing more serious.?
?It was self-defense. She attacked me at the stop-light.?
?Yeah right,? he replied with a slight smile.
His partner came over with his notepad out. They talked for a moment in low tones. Shelley managed to hear the white cop say something about that one, motioning to Della, got out of the car first. Then she heard something about her starting the fight earlier in the day. The two cops shook their heads and the black cop mumbled something about road rage and crazy fucking bitches. Then he said something like, they both go in and let somebody else decide who did what.
So five hours later Shelley was sitting in a cell in her t-shirt and jeans. Her boots, belt and rings had been taken from her. Her wounds were treated, but her face was a swollen mess and she could feel bruises all over her boobs and belly. Della lay on a cot across the corridor in her own sell, dressed her mini and boob tube. She was a fucking mess. Shelley smiled to herself.
She couldn?t resist saying, ?Hey bitch. How?s it feel to get your ass kicked? I fucked you up real good. You?re lucky the fucking cops showed up and saved your sorry black ass. You hear me whore. You fucking crack ho. Hey, bitch. Hey, cunt. You hear me??
Della turned around and snarled through swollen and stitched lips, ?You?ll fucking pay you cracker cunt. I?ll tear your tits off and put them on my goddamned table as trophies.?
The intellectual debate continued and grew louder. When the nightshift sergeant arrived they were against the bars of their cells screaming and spitting at each other.
?Shut the fuck up!?
When that didn?t work he hit the bars with his stick. That forced the women back, but it didn?t silence them. The sergeant was joined by two other cops who were laughing their asses off as the two women cursed each other with ever growing vigor and color.
Finally the sergeant yelled, ?You bitches want another piece of each other. Okay fine. You can put a little show down here. Somebody go up and cut off the tape, no better yet fix it so it loops around for the next hour or so. I got an idea. These bitches are so fucked up right now that nobody will be able to prove a thing.?
An hour later, Shelley was stripped naked, her left wrist shackled by a long chain above her head to an exposed pipe. Her right fist was wrapped in masking tape. She couldn?t open her hand. Another piece of tape was across her mouth. Her right hand was twisted behind her back by one of the cops. Della was similarly attired, taped, shackled and held opposite her.
The sergeant nodded at the handiwork. Checked the chains and then announced, ?Okay ladies, if you want to settle your dispute I?ll let you. Whoever cries for help first spends the night in jail and the other goes home. If you don?t want to fight then I?ll give you back your clothes and put you in your cells and you can sort it out in the morning with the district attorney. But, you got to keep your mouths shut. So what will it be, fight or shut the hell up.?