BOXING BETTY GETS A RHYS OUT OF HER MAN



     Rhys wasn't getting any younger.  Sitting in front of his computer
console, lamenting his loss of hair and youthful vigor, he tried to remain
vigiliant as he entered his third hour of watchful waiting in Diana's
chatroom.  It was March the 1st and Rhys ached for the chance to turn
Cyberspace into r/l, to live out the fantasy of his novel's protagonist Aenea,
defender of Troy and hero of Vergil's Aeneid.  
     Had Diana worked another of her Valkyrie miracles?  For at precisely the
moment he placed his hands on the keyboard to log off, Betty's first message
scrolled across the screen.  Rhys paused in wonderment.  Betty was a biker.  A
boxing biker.  A German boxing biker that loved to kick ass.  And, best of
all, she had green and blue breasts.
     "I love multi-colored breasts," Rhys quickly tapped on his keyboard,
hoping to capture the mysterious Betty's attention.
     "Rhys fuck youselv," came the gentle response.
     Now that really turned Rhys on!  Some of you might be wondering about
Rhys at this point, but I assure you, this is quite normal behavior in Diana's
chatroom.
     Betty, meanwhile, was on a roll.  A black-haired, dynamic vixen she began
to threaten the wives/girlfriends of any and all chatroom males.
     "I bikebitch and bitchre and lesbian," the 58 to 60 kilo dynamo
explained, showing the wide range of her interests and intense lifestyle.
     Rhys was now fully enraptured with this delightful femme from Europe. 
     The fact that Betty threatened to "kickass Ghost's woman" and called
Scooby a loser didn't faze him.  After all, he reasoned, nobody is perfect.
He could feel the heat spreading through his loins, the turgid, straining
sensation of his member hard between his legs.
      "I am strong and know no pain," said the fighting femme fatale.
     Rhys fell in love.
     His Cyberpals warned him of potential danger ahead.
     He would hear none of it.
      "Be cautious," they warned, as they discovered she had a boyfriend and
had knocked out a string of women across the European continent.
     Rhys, humanist that he was, showed the compassion and sensitivity that
made him, well, interesting.  "I kind of like her," he admitted.  "At my age
you see girls like her as misguided.  You want to help them.  And help comes
from a good serious fucking."
     Hey, thanks Rhys, we needed that!
     At any rate, I digress.
     Upon further questioning it turned out that Betty was coming to visit the
United States.  Soon.
      "Could it be?" Rhys wondered.  Maybe...possibly...I
could--metaphorically speaking--- BOX with her.
      "Betty, would you be willing to engage in a little ring action with me?"
Rhy's hands trembled as he tried to type the message on his keyboard.
     Betty requested Rhy's e-mail...which wasn't very nice, considering that
dozens of chatroom regulars anxiously awaited the pleasure of her public
reply.
      After a vague reference to a 4 on 1 confrontation that promised to be
something of a cuming attraction, Betty gave the all-American response to her
admiring Rhys.
      "I'm going to Disneyworld."
       Autumn in Orlando.  
      "Yes!" Rhys thought to himself.  The thought of meeting Betty the Biker
in the land of Mickey the Mouse created an instantaneous, totally uncontrolled
and fully satisfying orgasm.  It was the stuff dreams are made of.  Disney.
Duking it.  Technicolor breasts.  World War II all over again.
     Trouble was, Rhys wasn't exactly in good shape.  He knew it.  A 25-year
old biker lady from Cologne could do serious damage before he could ever get
close enough in a clinch to do well...give her a boxing licking.
      What to do.  What to do.
      The only thing he knew would work.
     Rhys e-mailed Diana.
     "Diana, most powerful and generous Valkyrie," his note read, "could you
help me in my hour of need?  I must box the awesome Betty but I have not the
power to "stand up" to her."  Along with his e-mail the ever considerate Rhys
sent Diana a wave with a little Rocky music for effect.
     Diana, in her compassionate wisdom and understanding, e-mailed back the
nervous but excited Rhys.
      "My dear subject," she began.  "I will help you," she ended.
      And so it came to pass that a boxing match was scheduled in Orlando for
August of 1998.  The results of that match?  Why, that is another story, of
course.
     Whoever heard of a writer without a sequel?
   
                                             The End