Brush Creek Charlie - D. B. Reynolds (best pdf reader for ebooks TXT) 📗

you every since we’ve been together.”
“Babe, I’d be crushed if I found out you cheated on me.”
“I’m your’s and your mine’s.”
“Forever and always?”
“Today, tomorrow, next week, next month, and yes, forever and always.”
Carol pulled Sandy across the sofa. She planted her pair of exclusive lips against Sandy’s. Hands went rubbing and gliding everywhere. A patch of heat created a pleasurable warmth between them.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Sandy delayed, clutching Carol’s shoulders. “We’ve got our women’s meeting tonight at seven o’clock.”
Carol bucked her eyes down at the watch. “Babe, you’re absolutely right. It’s ten til six and we’ve got to straighten up.”
“And get showered up and pretty for the other women.”
“Presentable, but not pretty.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want those scavengers trying to feast on you.”
“Ahhhhh, I’m your’s until death do us part.”
“Don’t let me catch you flirting with nobody.”
“That’ll never happen.”
Sandy and Carol smacked each other with a kiss. Both went right for the shower.
Seven o’clock p.m. read on the big clock sitting on the wall. Women from every background poured into their home by the roomful. Sandy had prepared refreshments and drinks for their many guests. A legion of lesbian women met to discuss issues affecting them. Some showed up to blow off steam about how much they hated men.
Who’d ever known lesbians to like men? Their hatred for the male species ran deep into their bones. Their blood boiled hotter than volcanic lava. The army of extreme feminist women ate, drank, conversed, reminisced, and read over material written by Carol while Sandy prepared for their evening of male bashing. Chairs were set up around the living and dining rooms. Sandy set up the television and dvd player. Material on the dvd didn’t cater to the faint at heart.
“Ladies, ladies, can I please have your attention?” Sandy said in her commanding voice. “I’d like to thank you for coming out this evening to stand up once again for women’s rights. Carol and I called this meeting because we believe women are living in the most dangerous times in our history.”
A calm round of applauses sounded off around the room.
“Sandy and I are grateful that you’re in attendance,” Carol spoke, sipping on a light cocktail. “A series of unfortunate events affecting innocent women have taken place not only around the country, but right here in Kansas City. Ladies, we’ve got to come together and take a stand against these male monsters who’ve destroyed our lives.”
“We’ve compiled a documentary on dvd about a woman who’d been brutally beaten and raped by a group of four men and left to die. Miraculously, this woman survived the attack. We’ve also taped local news stories about two recent homicides, six rapes, ten burglaries, and twenty-nine assaults, of course, all of them crimes against innocent women.”
“Alright ladies, I hope you get the message in this story.”
Sandy pressed the play button to the dvd player. The narrator jumped right into the story. The story took place in the small rural city of Anderson, South Carolina. The nature of the crime had been especially brutal. Sandy and Carol and their loyalist women watched in awe as the story unfolded. It told how the ninety pound victim had been raped and beaten for four hours inside a hotel room. The victim was burned repeatedly with cigarettes and cigarette lighters. She’d been slashed with a broken liquor bottle. The narrator sympathetically explained how the poor soul nearly bled to death.
The four animals who violated the innocent woman were captured. American Justice saw how she looked inside her hospital room, nearly dying from a severe loss of blood. They observed her lying in her hospital bed hooked up to a complete life-support system. The perpetrator’s punishment? A veteran South Carolina judge ordered all four lowlives to be surgically castrated along with ten years probation. The defense side argued how surgical castration was a cruel and inhumane form of punishment.
The prosecution side argued back how the nature of their crimes were cruel and inhumane. The savages who raped and assaulted the woman ended up doing ten years on a thirty year sentence. Sandy pressed the stop button on the dvd player. Carol scanned the front room and dining room. She saw nothing but steamingly hostile faces. All the women in attendance were furious. Some barely stood still.
If their anger was collected and bottled up, a bomb of nuclear or atomic proportions would’ve exploded.
Sandy grabbed her cocktail and moved to the middle of the floor. “Ladies, what you just saw on that taped documentary is real. What we all witnessed was one of many cruel and inhumane crimes against women. Men have violated us long enough, and we’re here to say that we’re not going to stand for it any longer.”
A rumbling applause sounded off throughout the house. Some women stood up with intentions of starting a mini-protest.
Carol moved closer in front of Sandy. “Sandy’s right, ladies. We’ve had enough of men treating us like indisposable garbage. Throughout the years, we’ve been beat on, cheat on, shit on, spit on, pissed on, kicked up and down, tossed sideways, and thrown to be eaten by wolves and vultures. Ladies, we’ve fucking had enough!”
Again, an emotionally-charged applause echoed from inside and outside the house. Chants of women’s rights and justice became infectious.
“Now, we’ve opened the floor to discussion,” Sandy told the attendees. The glare of fury burned in her eyes.
The first radical lesbian to showcase her presence was Cynthia Garrington. Standing a mere five-foot-two, she weighed in at an awesome two-hundred and twenty pounds. Her shoulders were broad and hips wide enough to block a narrow doorway. Like Carol, she sported the usual spiked hair with assorted colors and tattoos along her arms.
“What we just saw in that goddamned story disgusts me!” Cynthia vocalized with steam, her voice coarse and deep. “Here you’ve got four animals, ones who just had to take advantage of a tiny little woman who only weighed ninety pounds soak and wet. Those Neanderthals just had to burn her and cut her like some freak in a fucking circus. They had to rape her and beat her and then leave her for dead. You see, that’s why I’ve learned to hate men. My first two husbands cheated on me, came home drunk, and then nearly beat me into a coma. Sometimes, they’d screw other women right in my face. I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve had enough and will do anything in my power to stop the abuse we women have suffered for too long.”
Cynthia received an ovation like none other. She felt the love from her comrades and embraced every second of it.
“Who else has a story they’d like to share with us?” Carol asked, the room getting fired up.
Shannon Murphy raised her arm high towards the ceiling. She represented the more civil side of feminism, a medium height and build suited better towards her character.
She stood up and shot off much arsenal. “Ladies, we saw how bloody that hotel room was after those four barbarians raped and beat her. We saw how bloody the mattress and the floor were from her bleeding like a cow in a slaughter house. All of us heard her explain how she just wanted to die, how she literally prayed and asked to die. It’s bad when you no longer have a will to live after somebody has repeatedly burned you with cigarettes and lighters, and then have sliced you all along your body with empty whiskey bottles. Everyone here tonight can feel one another’s pain. Like Cynthia said, we’re not going to stand for it any longer.”
They wanted justice and wanted it now. Anger of epidemic proportions filled the house.
Had any man walked into the home of Sandy and Carol, the women’s adrenalin alone would’ve killed them.
“Yes, yes, ladies, that’s what I’m talking about!” Sandy jolted excitingly. “Who else has something they’d like to share either about themselves or the story we just saw?”
Laurie Schumann would be next to display her courage.
Laurie wore the scars of abuse not only on the outside, but her interior got ripped away with constant headaches and heartaches from years of being with a man who treated her like ragdoll. “It’s not easy getting in front of people and telling your stories of abuse and neglect. But I feel as though we’re all sisters who’ve become a support system for one another. We’re here for another in times of grief and displacement. The story we just saw has raised quite a few eyebrows among us. Yes, the four men who assaulted and raped that woman should’ve been given castration and a hundred years, not the optional thirty years. Again, we heard the woman mention in the interview how she wanted to die. We heard her tell how she had lost so much blood, how those barbaric savages had control over her and treated her like useless sewage.”
Laurie received a most welcoming applause. Her support group high-fived one another and turned to give one another hugs.
“Very well said, Laurie,” Carol agreed, followed by vigorous applauses. “Who else would like to share their story with us?”
Sheena Sawyer threw her arm straight into the air. Carol and Sandy recognized how she’d been eager to speak. Sheena also represented a calmer side of feminism, her body frame svelte and facial features alluring.
Like the others, she too had her own horror stories about domestic abuse. “Ladies, I must say that it is an honor to attend another one of our meetings. I share the pain that all of you have experienced. I share the pain that the woman in the story went through. Being cut and burned by a group of animals is quite traumatic. About five years ago, I was nearly raped by a man who’d violated his parole. I was asleep and felt a knife against the back of my neck. I rolled around and there was some man in a stocking cap over his face standing above my bed. He immediately jumped on top of me and cupped my mouth with one hand while trying to pull my underwear down and force his penis in my backside. I fought and scratched to the point of my fingernails