Schoolhouse Rock

Female brawls take place in an abandoned school

The venue for the Female Fight Club in Central Missouri took place in an abandoned high school building; more specifically, an abandoned large, dusty, classroom. The desks were cleared away of course, and old, hard, gymnastic mats were placed on the hardwood floor. Since there was no electricity running in the building, generators were brought in to operate a few lights and some large fans. During the colder months, space heaters and body heat warmed up the room. Despite such meager provisions, the place, known as "The Old Schoolhouse," raked in quite a profit, with a suitable percentage going to its fighters.

College students Lilly and Sun, who came from Zaire and China, respectively, heard of the event, and wanted to check it out. Both were trained in a martial art in their country of origin, and looked forward to getting the chance to utilizing their skills.

Lilly was black, and stood a towering 5'9" with a muscular build and short black hair, just touching her shoulders. Sun's reddish-brown hair was just past the lobes of her ears, and she had the standard yellow skin of a native from China; and though her build was a couple of inches shorter at 5'7", it too was muscular. Both of them were on their school's track team. Lilly threw the hammer, while Sun's specialty was the shot put.

One day, Lilly was sitting in her dorm room reading a book when there was a knock on her door. After she told them to come in, Sun entered the room.

"Hello Sun, what's up?" Lilly said in lilting English.

"I want to go to the Old Schoolhouse tonight, you game?" Sun asked.

"I would love to, but I have a cold. I'm still not used to this springtime weather."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Well how about acting as my second?"

Lilly smiled. "Sure champ. What time do you want to leave?"

It was a warm night. Humid, but a nice breeze made things bearable. So it struck Lilly a little strange when Sun came to her car in a black full-length robe and barefoot. Nonetheless, they drove to the deserted school building. Not that it was all that deserted; the hidden parking lot was almost full.

Though it was deserted, the schoolhouse theme was still used. The referee was dressed like a physical education teacher, and the mistress of ceremonies was dressed like either an old librarian or a schoolteacher, complete with a conservative black dress and jacket, old hose, and sensible shoes. Her long brown hair was placed in a bun while big round glasses completed the look. The schoolmistress tapped a cracked blackboard with a wooden ruler to get the crowd's attention.

"These are the women who will fight tonight," she said in a stuffy voice, and then she proceeded to write the names of the fighters and who would be facing off on the chalkboard. The chalk screeched as she wrote.

"You think they might be carrying this school motif a little too far?" Lilly asked Sun.

"Maybe, but the audience loves it. Come, let's go to the dressing rooms," Sun said. The dressing rooms were actually the school's restrooms marked off for the fighters.

After each fight, a line would be drawn through the loser's name, and a circle around the winner's. Finally, the names of Sun and her opponent were called. The first name was Samantha De Rossi, a 5'8" woman with shoulder-length blond hair and a medium build teetering on being heavyset. She wore a blue warm up outfit with wrestling shoes. She unzipped her jacket to reveal a plain white T-shirt. She listened to the generous applause as she limbered up, and donned her fingerless gloves and mouthpiece.

Then it was Sun's turn. Upon her introduction, she waved in acknowledgement to the crowds' cheers, put in her mouthpiece, and undid her robe. Then everything was quiet. For what Sun wore under her robe was a red string bikini. It covered her front just enough to cover everything personal, but that was it. The bikini did not hinder the sight of Sun's physique, which was muscular with just enough body fat to make her more Rubenesque than the build of a bodybuilder.

Lilly was shocked. She remembered to close her mouth, but her eyes were still bulging. No wonder she kept her robe on during the trip up here, she thought. If she rode in the car like that, we could've been pulled over and arrested for exposure.

Even Sun's opponent was surprised. However, she not only noticed Sun's outfit (or lack of one), she noticed Sun's build as well. A quick knockout may be the best way, she reasoned, a grapple could be risky.

The referee waited a moment for the murmuring to settle down. Apparently even in this type of arena, the crowd was still conservative on some matters of dress. Finally, someone delivered a wolf whistle, and the audience laughed. The referee figured now would be the best time to give the rules. The fight was one round, ended either by knockout, verbal submission, or referee stoppage. No bites, scratches or blows to the eyes, breasts, or crotch were allowed.

The bell (a school bell) rang, and the fight began. Samantha held her fists in a type of boxing stance, while Sun was in a semi crouch wrestling stance as she started to stalk her foe.

Samantha threw a right cross at Sun's face, but it was parried. Sun grabbed that arm while putting the other arm around her waist, and executed an outside hip throw. Samantha hit the mat hard, but managed to roll away to get to her feet. Once she did, Sun charged up to her to knock her back down with a leg sweep.

For the next few minutes, the match went like that. Every punch ended up with her being thrown, and then a foot sweep to trip to the mat. The throws were starting to take their toll. She was bruised, a little winded, and unsure how to attack. She finally replied with a shin kick. The kick hit the thick thigh of Sun. Sun looked down at her leg, and smiled. The smile took Samantha off guard for a second, and that's all it took for Sun to rush in and snare her in a headlock.

Using the headlock, Sun pulled Samantha over her hip for yet another throw, but this time, Sun went to the ground with Samantha, maintaining the headlock. A second later, she converted the headlock to a chokehold. Samantha struggled, but she was too worn out by the throws to resist, and barely managed to tap out before she lost consciousness.

Sun raised her hands to accept the loud applause as she walked back to her corner. Lilly quickly covered her with her robe.

After collecting the prize money (Sun gave Lilly a percentage for helping), and receiving compliments, an invitation to come back, along with some phone numbers, Sun and Lilly drove back to the college.

"By the way, good job back there," Lilly said to Sun. "I think you threw her everywhere on the mat."

"Thank you," Sun replied. "She was a tough one. It normally takes me only one or two throws to wear them down."

"Uh, aren't fighters in your country a little more modest with their dress?"

Sun laughed. "They are, but I'm not. I worked hard to get my body in this shape, why not show it off a little?" She said.

"Oh, I think you've shown them more than a little."

"You should try it when it's your turn to fight, you'll be freer. In fact, I may have another suit like this one that may fit you-"

Lilly turned red and waved one hand wildly. "No, no, I'll stick with my singlet, thank you," she replied.

"Okay. Hey, if you're feeling better next week, you want to go back? This time, you can show the crowd what you've got. This time, I can be your second."

"I'd love to, Sun, but on one condition."

"What's that?" Sun asked.

"You wear more clothes."

Sun pretended to pout. "All right, I'll leave my bikini at home; but when it's my turn, it's coming out," she replied.

"Can't wait," Lilly said sarcastically. Sun slapped her on the shoulder. "Hey, you want to get something to eat before we get back?"

"Sure, but you're paying. I didn't bring my wallet."

"Why didn't you bring your wallet?" Lilly started to ask, then realized how absurd her question was. Sun burst out laughing.

"It's a little hard to find a pocket with this outfit, besides we forgot about the prize money I just won. Tell you what, why don't we go home, I'll put jeans and a shirt on, then we can go."

"Okay."

For comments, suggestions, or story ideas, email the author at shrewsberry@juno.com.

#2009, Barefoot Heroines, Inc.