Vicki Barefoot and her Butt-Kicking Bare Feet!!!   Part 2 
By Jack
A beautiful, barefooting female private eye demolishes the Mafia with her tough soles


Sergeant Copeland walked across the parking lot of Green Oak State Park with a
smile on his face. His boss, the infamous Mr. Big, was sitting in a courtroom
right now, waiting for his trial to continue. However, the prime witness was
now sitting in a warehouse, being tortured to death my some very expensive
assassins. That would stop any other turncoats from daring to cross their
path. Not only that, but the Captain's favorite little freelancer, that pesky
barefooted girl P.I. had been intercepted by four of the toughest muscle guys
on the payroll. Well, actually, three of them, and Mr. Big's worthless son,
who couldn't do anything right if he tried.

Then came one of the greatest shocks of Sergeant Copeland's life. As he
emerged into the picnic area of Green Oak, he saw four men being lifted onto
stretchers and handcuffed there by a combo of cops and medics. The four men
were covered in bruises and blood, and their faces were beaten to pulps. Not
only that, reporters were all over the place.

"What's going on here?" cried Copeland, his eyes not able to comprehend what
he was seeing.

"It's great, isn't it?" A group of three guys in T-shirts and shorts came up
to Copeland. "You're with the police, right? We've already talked to the
reporters." Copeland looked at them. The three guys were all wearing the exact
same T-Shirt ... it said "VICKI BAREFOOT, PRIVATE INVESTIGATIONS ... ALWAYS GO
BAREFOOT" with a picture of Vicki in full 1940's P.I. gear and her tough feet
resting on the desk, dirty soles facing the camera. "She was awesome! Those
four Mafia goons tried to rough her up, and she beat them senseless. It was
hilarious! Those fools didn't stand a chance!"

"Yeah, and one of them told her where their head base was! I bet she beat the
shit out of some more assholes like this. Vicki Barefoot rocks!"

Copeland was mortified. He quickly walked over to the stretcher which held the
boss' son. The kid was bawling like mad, but he was the only of them who was
alone.

"Michael! Michael!" whispered Copeland. What happened? You four were supposed
to kill her!"

Fear and terror filled Michael's eyes as the thought of those punishing fists
filled his eyes. "She beat the shit out of us! She was so tough! I've never
seen ass-whooping like that before. She could beat twenty men with those feet
without even working hard! . Her tough feet felt like sledgehammers kicking me
silly! We didn't stand a chance."

"What happened," groaned Copeland. "She's just a woman."

Michael kept crying. "She was tough. Her fists hurt so bad ... and those feet!
I never want to see a beautiful barefooted babe again!"

"Where is she now?"

Michael bawled, "We told her where the warehouse is. We had to or she would
have beaten us up worse. She's probably beaten the shit out of those guys and
gotten the accountant back to the courthouse. We're all going to jail!
WAAAAHHHHH!!!"

Sure enough, that's exactly what had happened. Mr. Big was sitting smugly in
the defendant's chair of the courtroom, confident in the knowledge that the
star witness was now being sliced to ribbons in an abandoned warehouse.
Suddenly, a bare foot kicked the ventilation panel in to the courtroom, and
out crawled Vicki and the accountant. The whole court room breathed in shock
at this surprise entrance.

"Sorry," Vicki shrugged, "but I figured the ventilation shaft was the safest
way to get this witness in here."

The judge was staring open-mouthed, as was the prosecuting attorney. But worst
of all was Mr. Big. Two seconds ago, he had still been the most powerful
crimelord in America, but now he was a man facing the rest of his life in
prison.

"Your honor," spoke his defense attorney timidly, "we would like to change our
plea to guilty on all charges." The entire courtroom burst out in applause.
And then something happened that nobody expected. That cowardly crime boss
turned and ran out of the courtroom.

An enormous smile spread across Vicki Barefoot's face. The accountant looked
at her strangely. "What is it?" he asked. "He'll get away!"

Vicki's smile just grew wider. "I'm a barefooter, an ass-kicker, and a proud
strong woman. I love what I am, because I get to beat badguys into the
cowering little blobs they really are. Today, my lethal kicks have demolished
three Mafia goons who wanted to rape me, the kingpin's pathetic son, and seven
trained assassins. I know who the mole is in the police department, so I'm
going to take my time breaking him up with fists and kicks. But I think the
single greatest achievement of my crime-fighting career is going to come right
now."

And with that, Vicki jumped into the air, hopping from pew to pew as she
turtle-hopped across the courtroom. Upon running out the door, she saw Mr. Big
disappear into the stairwell. Five guys well over six feet tall in black suits
and sunglasses approached.

But why not let cute little Vicki tell the rest of the story. If this gorgeous
little barefooted minister of justice has a weakness, it's that she does like
to brag.

"You're dead, bitch!" one thug yelled, until my foot collided with his jaw.
You see, I'd taken a flying leap into the air, and sent each leg out with
bone-shattering force. Sure enough, each foot found its home, and each
jaw-owner found the floor. A punch was coming toward me, so I grabbed it, and
flipped its owner through the air. Two more oncoming thugs ... I began
alternating punches to each one's face. Within seconds, both faces were
horribly bloody. I then went to work on their bellies; in a few more seconds,
both men were on their knees, bawling. I stood on my right leg, and let the
left bounce between their heads, kicking them silly.

The flipped guy picked himself up and turned to run, but my grip on his belt
held him in place. Before he knew what was happening, my foot shot up through
his legs and rammed into his testicles. This guy was done, but I sure wasn't.
These thugs spend their lives bullying and intimidating good people so that
bad people can do what they want, and that makes me unbelievably angry. He
fell to his knees, so now he was about my height. I walked right up to his
face and said one word ... "speedbag!" Terror filled his eyes, but there was
nothing he could do. My fists whirled around like they were demolishing a
speedbag in the gym. After 10 seconds, his eyes were glazed and his face was a
bloody pulp. "Lights out, dickhead," I grinned, and used my whole body to
power an uppercut that left him sleeping for hours.

Remember the guy who called me a bitch? I guess he'd hoped I'd forgotten about
him. He was lying on the floor, trying look unconscious, but the way his whole
body was shaking kind of gave up the jig. Grabbing him by the hair, I hauled
him up to my eye level. There was nothing but fear in those eyes.

"P-P-PLEASE God, don't kill me! I'll do anything! I just work for him! I don't
want to die!" And those tears came like waterworks. I love it. There's just
something about the nature of bullies and thugs. They love hurting and giving
torment, but once they realize that it is about to be unleashed on them, they
turn into quivering blobs of jelly. And then my feet just turn them into
quivering bloody blobs.

"Where's Mr. Big?" I asked.

"Parking garage! Black limo! God, don't hit me anymore!

"As you wish," I grinned. The toes on my right foot folded back, and I
unleashed the kick that put this guy into dream land.

A black limo pulled up to the ticket taker at the parking garage exit. He
rolled down the window and held out his ticket. Well, this was going to be
interesting.

I ran out of the shadows and leapt into the air with both feet out in front of
me. WHACK! My feet flew right through that car window and slammed into the
driver's face. I was now sitting in the driver's side window with my legs
inside the car. The driver was flat on the seat, shaking the ass-whooping out
of his head. I grinned. As far as I was concerned, everybody on Mr. Big's
payroll needed a beating, so I dished it out.

"Trick or treat, smell my feet, now you're face is going to bleed!" I sang as
my feet went to work on the driver's face. He was unconscious and extremely
bloody in no time at all.

BLAM! BLAM! Two gunshots from the back of the car impacted against the
bulletproof glass of the window.

"Oops!" I jeered. "Guess you can't get me that way!"

"Fuck you, bitch!" He leapt out the side door, but I was too quick. I shot out
the passenger side and grabbed the wrist of his gun hand with my left while
slugging his belly with my right. He collapsed to the ground, gulping for air,
his face red. I neatly picked up the gun he dropped and pointed it right at
him.

He looked up at me with anger. "You are so dead, bitch. I don't know what kind
of freaky Amazon you are, but I'll put a hit out on you so bad, you'll be
lucky to live until tomorrow."

I looked down at the gun in my hand. "You know, I hate guns." With deft hands
I quickly removed the cartridge, and tossed it into the trash. "I believe in
the power of trained bare female feet. You put out a contract on me, and every
single loser who tries to collect will get the worst beating of his life. You
know, kind of like I've given to sixteen of your men already today. Kind of
like I gave to your son. Kind of like I'm going to give to your informant
Copeland. But none quite as bad as I'm going to give to you now, because I am
going to slowly and surely beat you to death. And you know what? There's not a
damned thing you can do about it. So what do you say. Ready to die?"

I calmly and confidently took a fighting stance. There it was, just like his
son. He pissed himself. I hadn't touched him once, but here it came.

"Oh, God, no, please! Don't kill me! I'll do anything, just""" CRACK! One bare
foot, one broken nose.

I shook my head at him. "You order your men to kill so easily. But how does it
feel when someone is going to break you into pieces with her bare feet, and
there's not a thing you can do about it."

"Oh, God, please, don't kill me, I'll admit to everything! Just don't touch
me""CRACK! My heel gave him a black eye. WHAP! Now the other eye was black.

"Your big empire. One little woman. And there wasn't one point today when you
guys ever stood a chance. Just like you don't stand one now."

"Help! Somebody! She's beating the shit out of me!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! Look at those puffy lips and loosened teeth.

"Oh, God please ... I'll give all my money to charity, I'll never commit
another crime again!"

I prepped myself, focusing every ounce of energy I had. My body coiled, my
right foot went out spun around, hurtling right toward his face ... and it
stopped two inches from his face. I was unsuccessful in suppressing my smile.
He looked scared to death.

"Oh, come on. I'm not going to kill you. That's what you do. I just beat
people up. Here, like this." One punch, he was snoozing on the street.

Suddenly, a plain-clothes cop ran up to me with his gun outstretched.
"FREEZE!" he yelled. "Get on the ground!"

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Sergeant Copeland. You're under arrest."

"Oh, you're Copeland!" And with that, I grabbed the gun out of his hand,
kicked him in the groin, raised my knee into his face as he buckled up.

Now he was on his knees, nose broken, eyes glazed. A few slaps, cleared his
eyes.

"Bad news, asshole, this is the part where you get beaten up," I mocked. Two
punches, two black eyes. Two punches to loosen the teeth. And then a foot
driven right into his belly. He was now buckled over and coughing up bile. I
firmly lifted his head to look in my eyes. Mine were full of justice, his were
full of pain and fear.

"Cute barefoot girl-19, badguys-0. That gotta be a Guinness record for one
day. Now, why don't you get some rest, dickhead!" And then a spinning kick
which thudded into the back of his head. He landed face down, unconscious.

I looked down. "Well, bare feet, we sure showed them." My toes were wriggling
with glee and my soles were enjoying the warmth of the black pavement. I
lifted my left foot and looked at the black sole. God, I loved getting my
soles good and dirty. That meant it had been a barefooted day.

I brushed my hands together and walked away. I still had a book to read in the
park.

That's the end of the local Mafia, but Vicki Barefoot and her butt-kicking
bare feet will be back to demolish any other badguys dumb enough to do evil
when she's around.