#jessporter

Judgment Girl: Chronicles

It was Monday.  The soft wind and slight overcast promised rain. Buffy Season 4 was due back at the video store and I was in a hurry as usual.  I was in and out in the same step until something caught my eye.  A familiar blonde ponytail was waving at me like a white flag of surrender.  A devilish grin crossed my face as I tingled with anticipation.  It was Diana.  Her lackluster locks were disappearing around the Pacific Rim display and into the ‘Adult’ room.

“Well, this wasn’t on the menu, but I can certainly make an exception!”

As I turned the corner my delight intensified.  Diana was not alone. 

“Hi Diana”, I purred as my Louis Vuitton’s clacked on the tile floor, “Who’s your boyfriend?”

He was definitely worth a second look.  About 6’2” tall, rugged build, spiky brown hair; like a young Nathan Drake.  

“He’s not my boyfriend!  He's my neighbor, Chris.” 

No matter what I wore, I always looked perfect, and today was no exception.  The V-neck on my white t-shirt playfully stretched as I wrapped my arms around the young ‘Treasure Hunter’ and whispered in his ear…

“Well, he should be someone’s boyfriend...”

To intensify this sexually charged salutation, I sauntered over to Diana.  It was almost unfair for me to stand next to her.  She stood about 5’ tall; dopey eyes, limp dishwater blonde hair, with Lisa Simpson’s figure and sense of style.

“Hi Chris, I’m Jess and I love meeting neighbors...do you need any help deciding on a girl, I mean, movie?”

Before he could adjust his answer, his phone rang and he shuffled across the room.  Diana’s bottom lip started to quiver as my smile rivaled the Cheshire cat’s.  I put my arm around her shoulders and offered her one of my favorite movies.  The blonde on the cover was blindfolded and restrained by her ponytail.  Diana tried to look away but my hand was like a vice around the back of her head and all I had to do was squeeze.

“This one reminds me of you.  Do you think he’ll like it?”

Her body turned stiff and cold, as if she were slipping into shock.  I couldn't help but giggle as she fought back the tears and began to beg.

“Please don’t hurt us.”

I didn't even try to contain my laughter anymore…

“What makes you think I’m going to hurt him?”

My fingers started to tighten as her weak skull offered as much resistance as an egg.  Tears welled in her eyes, silently pleading with me to stop; but not yet.  I still like playing with this toy.

Chris shyly returned and noticed the movie

“What are you two looking at?” 

“Your homework” I answered as I loosened my grip on Diana, “and I’ll be grading you, myself!”

Within seconds I was curled up next to him, enveloping all of his senses like a blanket.  His body started to tremble as my fingers traced his spine.  He awkwardly took the movie, his face bright red, and he hurriedly escaped the room; not knowing if this was the best or worst day of his life.

SuperWomenMania.com asks: 

It was early afternoon and the sunlight was playfully dancing on the old and tranquil brass wall. I was frustrated, standing in my apartment building foyer staring at the empty mailbox. I had gone to the post office three times over the past month trying to fix ‘their’ mistake.  My mail was in a perpetual state of limbo and not being delivered because the postal gods had me listed as 2488 Clifton Ave. Apt 3E.  My apartment is 3D; the other unit does not exist. 

A dark shadow filled the space and I suddenly felt cold.  Instinct took over and was urging me to flee the area when I heard a voice. 

“Oh Jessica, how are you dear?  Is that a new sweater?  It’s nice, but green’s not really your color.  You should try something pink otherwise you look a little pale.”

Too late, like the boulder in Raiders of the Lost Ark, I was trapped by Nancy.  My nosy neighbor had come down from her roost despite the fact that she had already retrieved her mail. As the building’s unofficial PR director, her windows served as her personal assistants, alerting her to everyone’s comings and goings.

“Hi, Nancy”

The smart ass in me took over as I formulated my exit strategy. 

“Sorry I can’t chat, I have to go change my sweater.”

A puzzled gaze crossed her face as she tried to decide whether she was being insulted on not.

“That’s OK dear, I understand.  You may want to turn your radio on when you get upstairs, they’re at it again.”

I knew exactly who Nancy was talking about.  A woman named Kristy lived in apartment 3A with her ‘boyfriend’.  She was thirty-nine, short and curvy with ashy brown hair and a soft round face.   Ronnie was tall but pudgy with fading blonde hair and an alcohol weathered smile.

Apartment 3A was known for their MMA style of conflict resolution.  There was usually the high pitched crash from a shattered wine glass followed by the unnerving thud of a body hitting the ground.  There was a standard script as well.  Kristy would beg, plead and apologize ardently, while simultaneously declaring her undying love for him.  Ronnie, on the other hand, had much easier lines to memorize.  Simple, monosyllabic phrases like: Dumb cow, stupid bitch, useless whore, you made me do this, etc.

 I took my normal stride up the stairs, but as I got closer to my floor, I slowed down and thought of Kristy.  It was obvious she needed help.  Ronnie was sadistically abusive and probably threatened to kill her if she told anyone.  She must have prayed every night for some angel to come save her.  After all, who would willingly volunteer to be an emotional and physical punching bag?

As I reached the top of the steps, a sense of moral obligation consumed me.  Uncle Ben was in my ear whispering ‘With great power comes great responsibility’.  It was clear what I had to do.  I had to help.

I turned the corner and followed the hallway that lead to Thunderdome.  Just as Nancy warned, the main event was already underway.  My throat was dry and my muscles tense.  A wave of anxiety competed with the rush of adrenaline.  My thoughts were being muffled by the audible rage only a few feet away. I took one last deep breath and knocked.  An uncomfortable silence dominated the air as I waited for the door to open.  

“What the Hell do you want?”

An unshaven Ronnie greeted me with a snarl.  His eyes were bloodshot, skin was pale and his clothes could walk on their own.

I instantly reached out, grabbed him by his beer stained leather jacket and flung him into the hallway.  His body hit the floor like a sack of potatoes and he scrambled to stand up.

“Hi, we’ve never been formally introduced, I’m Jessica and you must be Mitch.”

He glared at me with the furious intensity of an 1,800 lb. bull about to crush the matador. 

“My name’s not Mitch, you stupid cunt, it’s Ronnie!” 

He wiped the spit from the corner of his mouth as he took a step closer.

I took my perfectly manicured index finger and tapped him on the forehead. 

“Oh no, it’s Mitch, short for My Bitch!”

Ronnie used all his strength to ‘knock’ my arm away.

“I ain’t nobody’s Bitch!” 

He took an erratic step forward and comically, but unsuccessfully lunged at me.

My left arm instantly reached out and clutched him by the throat.  Panic and blind fear caused him to kick and convulse as his feet left the ground. 

“Does My Bitch need to be slapped?  You know it hurts me more than it hurts you.” 

My right arm raised across my chest like a golf club.  The back of my hand came crashing down with the force of Harley Quinn’s sledgehammer.  Ronnie started to spit out teeth from his dislocated jaw, but he did not show signs of repentance.  I impatiently slapped him again, this time pulverizing his mandible. 

“So much for the verbal apology...”

Ronnie pathetically tried to spit in my face.  He was amusingly unsuccessful and instead only managed to drool blood on the freshly waxed wood floors.

“Was it good for you too?” I purred into his ear.

I excitedly started to think about Ronnie’s future and how solid food was no longer a part of it.  I had almost forgotten that I was still holding him until I felt his body slumping over in defeat. 

Kristy had sheepishly emerged in the doorway. Her eyes were swollen from crying, shirt sleeve torn, hair disheveled and mascara running.  A look of horror washed over her as she realized that Ronnie was not the victor.

“STOP!  STOP!”

Her banshee like voice was shrill and inescapable.

Within three steps she was beside me, pounding her fists like a child throwing a tantrum.  I easily held her back with her right arm but what’s next – is she going to hold her breath?

“Look what you did – Why?  Ronnie, I ‘m so sorry Baby, I love you, I’m so sorry…”

I stood there in a state of bewilderment.  I didn’t understand why she wasn’t thanking me.  Ronnie made her existence a nightmare but she was lost without him.  Somehow, I was the villain, not the hero.

Kristy howled at me relentlessly.  Her waterfall of tears only served to worsen Ronnie’s situation.  Her spineless lack of self-worth had led to a sickening dependence on this parasite. The more she pleaded for his life, the more I wanted to kill him.   

Disgust turned to anger as I looked down at Kristy and the slobbering mess she was proud to portray.  Her level of weakness and stupidity was matched only by her pathetic uselessness.  She was a nauseating depiction of a woman and needed to be exterminated.

“Sit down”

I shoved Kristy to the floor and freed my right arm.  Ronnie kept incomprehensibly moaning and quickly added to my aggravation. In one swift motion, my fist cocked back like a battering ram and it was over. My right uppercut snapped the bones in Ronnie’s neck, turning him into a life sized Pez dispenser.  

I turned and noticed our dear Kristy.  She had gotten to her feet but was practically catatonic.  Ronnie’s corpse was like a bag of wet cement as it hit the ground.  I wiped off my hands and started to walk towards her.  She mustered enough willpower to turn around, but it was too late.  I clutched her right shoulder and spun her around like a top.  She steadied herself and tried to back away from me.

“Why are you doing this?”  

Her ignorance to her own situation was the last nail in her coffin.

“I did this for you!” 

I grabbed Kristy’s puny wrists and flung her into the wall behind me.  Her back instantly shattered as she hit the network of 2x4’s behind the plaster.  Her broken body slid down the cracked surface and slumped over like a rag doll.

I picked up their lifeless bodies and threw them back into the apartment. These unemployed leeches were worthless excuses for human beings and fed off society’s generosity.  No one would miss them.