Anyhoo, I was dreaming of hunting and in my dream my stirrups were make of wire and my reins kept snapping and I was complaining loudly to my father and some tiny mexican woman who was holding a Dirty Harry style gun when when I distinctly heard, 'OILL FOOKIN' KEEL YA!'
Blearily I opened my eyes. I lay there staring at the shadows on my roof, beside me the bigger of the cats snored peacefully. Hum, if he hadn't heard anything perhaps I-
'Fuck you ya fuckin' skanky HOOR!'
I craned my neck to look at my bedside clock. 3:44 am. What was going on?
And then I heard, 'Tracy wait.'
And then' Leggggoooomee yacuntcha.'
Then. 'Leave it, lerrem fight ifendewant.'
Then the very definite sound of a scuffle.
I got out of bed and wandered over to the window, prepared to hurl abuse at the fuckers for waking me from my drug induced slumber, but as I opened the window I was astounded to see a full on proper fight, and not just some drunken slappers beating the shit out of each other.
Now I like a drop of violence, especially when I can watch from a safe distance. So naturally I settled in to watch.
In the red corner, TRacccccyyyy, about 25, fatty, raggedy blonde hair, sparkly boob tube and low rise jeans. All guts and crack, mmm, yummy.
In the blue corner ...I'm going to call her Tanya coz I don't like the name. Short arsed female of indeterminate age, wearing black trousers and a black ripped top. Hair scrapped back off her face in a ponytail that looked like it was made of wire. She's small and mean looking, outweighed for sure, but my money would be on her. That tattoo on her arm must have hurt like shit, so I'm guessing she has a high pain threshold.
Lets get it on!
Tanya rushes forward and dishes out a well-aimed slap to Tracy's head. Trace-atta girl- reels back, but not in time to fully dodge the blow. The sound is a dull 'whap', enraged Tracy rushes Tanya and throws all fifteen stone of her jellied body on to her. Tanya tries gamely to stay on her feet, but the brontosauras like Tracy, stumbles and both girls go crashing down, screaming and cursing.
It should be pointed out at this stage that the rest of the party, two skinny looking boys in giant runners and jeans that hang off their waists like deflated parachutes and another girl, the screamer, are trying their very best not to seem to be egging the dastardly due on, but in reality, we all know it, they're enjoying every minute of it.
Tanya is underneath and the mighty Tracy has her pinned, there is spitting and scratching aplenty, but Tanya has both her hands buried in Tracy's hair is is very busily trying to rip it clean from her head.
Tracy, to be fair, is slapping the living shit of of Tanya and roaring like a bull, but the slaps are poorly executed and really- I think to myself- why not make a fist? The boob tube has slipped and one of Tracy's puppies is loose and bobbing about like a fat albino on speed. The boys are delighted and keep laughing and pointing at it as is bobbles around. The screamer ratches the sound up a bit, other lights are coming on around.
Tanya is trying hard to get out from underneath, she is kneeing and pulling but it is a nasty looking bite to Tracy's forearm that does the trick. Tracy screams and jerks, and the wiry Tanya aims a super uppercut to the underside of her jaw.
Tracy react as though she's been shot, her eyes roll up , she topples over onto her back and her boob rolls under her arm for cover.
Tanya, filthy, with a bloodied lip and almost shirtless herself, scrambles to her feet and with spectacular accuracy, kicks the groaning Tracy square in the gee. ( not my use of word, but that is what one of the chaps said)
The shot is both efficacious and devastating. Tracy rolls up into the fetal position.
The winner leans over and spits, then reels away, leans even further over and pukes all over the road. I fancy I can smell the WKD, even though I cannot.
The lads laugh and the screamer helps the wounded Tracy to her feet. She is clutching her fanny with both hands and I wince in sympathy. Poor fat cow. I could have told her the outcome. Any girl who can scrape her hair into a pony tail so tight it pulls her eyes up is never going to be bested. It's just not in their nature to give in.
Anyway, to the victor the spoils, whatever it was she gained. I salute her silently as she makes her way down the road, limping and wiping at her mouth.
Then I pull the curtains scramble back into my toasty bed, safe in the knowledge that I could have taken both of them without so much as breaking a sweat. Elbows, ladies, life's knuckledusters, no slapping required.