(After 12 years, 7 months, 3 weeks, 5 days, 13 hours, 37 minutes, and 10.6 seconds, the final round of Sirens of the LAMBs is finally upon us. So you know the rules by now. Read the narratives, vote on who would win based on them. Voting will end probably on Monday, when the winner will be announced. Enjoy!)
By Fletch from
Blog Cabins.
Cherry’s phone was buzzing again. Taking it from her hip, she looked at the screen and saw the familiar photo she’d taken of Beatrix Kiddo some months back. Once upon a time, it was an image she’d looked upon fondly, a reminder of happier days when Cherry and Trixie (as Cherry liked to call her) would go bowling or miniature golfing. Sometimes, they’d stay in and watch Flavor of Love or The Hills marathons on a lazy Saturday, still dressed in their PJs from the night before.
These days, though, that picture just meant that it was yet another call from “The Bride.” Whining. Self-centered. Easily upset. Cherry could barely stand the thought of hanging with her former BFF, much less stomach the idea of calling her “The Bride,” something Beatrix had insisted upon ever since Bill and the DVAS had turned on her. So annoying.
Cherry rejected the call yet again. It seemed like the 50th time she’d done so in the last week, but it was in fact just the 8th. Still, she wished nothing more than to just have Trixie out of her life for good. Trixie, meanwhile, was lonely and scared that her lone friend in the world was ditching her as well. It was time to escalate the situation.
Trixie hopped in the Pussy Wagon and headed for the Pussy Ranch (Cherry’s house of employment). No dice though, as the diminutive dancer was nowhere to be found. So she roamed, hitting up every burger joint, dive bar and drive-in in a three county radius. Still nothing. Searching for hours, she couldn’t help that she had cooled down some by now, her fire and growing ire towards Cherry waning. It was time to head home, and possibly pick up this fight another day.
But there the bitch was. Trixie didn’t notice her at first - how could she? But there Cherry was, in front of a Dairy Queen, riding the mechanical toy horse (and El Wray as well). The nerve of those two – that thing’s for kids, yet here they were defiling it, all for the low, low price of two bits while downing their Peanut Buster Parfaits and Butterfinger Blizzards.
The P Wagon came to a screeching halt as Trixie practically flew out of it and onto the DQ parking lot.
“Bitch!” she screamed at Cherry. “Why have you forsaken me like all the others, and for toy horses and desserts, no less?”
“What pipe are you smokin’, Trixie?” Cherry snarled. “Just ‘cause I’m on a date with my man doesn’t mean I’m ‘forsaking you.’ Could you be a bigger drama queen?”
“Enough lies!” The Bride screamed, tears nearly bursting forth. “You don’t answer my calls or text messages, my emails get returned with that annoying MAILER DAEMON thing, and did I get even a thank you for the singing telegram? You’re gonna tell me a hippo belting out ‘Happy Birthday’ wasn’t the shiznit? How dare you treat me like this!”
“Uh, creepy,” Cherry said, as she inched away from Beatrix.
“What’s creepy about friendship?” blurted the Bride.
At this point, tears were streaming from Beatrix’s face, her makeup turning her into a Tammy Faye clone. Cherry couldn’t take much more of this. The toy horse was bothering her as well, so she promptly hopped off and confronted her former friend.
“Look, Bea, I know you’ve gone through some tough times, but I just don’t think we should see each other anymore. It’s not you, though, it’s me.”
“You’re using the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ routine?!? I invented ‘it’s not you, it’s me!’” shouted the Bride.
“There you go again with the drama queen business. You’re a bald-faced liar. Everyone knows George Costanza invented that line – I was just trying to spare your feelings. You know what, though – fine, it’s me. I – me – just can’t stand you anymore.”
Beatrix fell to the ground, a crumpled mess and a shell of her former self. Despite her blubbering, she managed to make a half-assed attempt at lunging towards Cherry with her Hanzo, but her emotional state had left her impotent in her assassinly ways. Cherry, being the hunter that she was, knew a wounded animal when she saw one, though, and sought to put her old friend out of her misery.
“Who brings a knife to a gun fight, anyway,” she mustered, as she put the Bride down with a single shot to the head.
“Say hi to Budd for me. I always liked that crazy Texan.”
——————-
The Bride was riding on Kyra’s dead body as they were both falling down her apartment building. As they were approaching the ground, Beatrix jumped off and while Kyra’s body landed with a wet THUD, The Bride landed on her feet.
Beatrix caught her breath and started to head back up when she saw that guy Jason walking out, holding a cell phone. He was covered in blood.
“It’s for you,” Jason said.
“What happened to you?” Beatrix asked.
“That Riddick guy came out and I asked him to spell a five letter word. One thing led to another and his head exploded.”
“Oh,” was all The Bride could say as she took the cell phone. “Beatrix Kiddo.”
“Hey, uh, it’s me. Q. We, uh, have a…situation here. We need your help.”
“I’m on my way.”
Beatrix hung up the phone.
“I gotta go. Good luck with your story,” Beatrix said, as she headed to her super cool car.
“Thanks. I’m gonna need it.”
Twenty minutes later, Beatrix arrived and she heard a whole lot of screaming and shooting. Beatrix got out of her car and headed towards the chaos. She saw “Q” and some Mexican fellow she remembers meeting once or twice. They were backing away from some black-haired chick missing a leg and-is this right?-in place of the missing leg was a machine gun?
“Cool”, Beatrix said.
“WHY DIDN’T MY MOVIE DO BETTER!” the machine gun legged chick was screaming out, as she shot some more people around her.
“I don’t know,” said the Mexican man, with fear in his eyes and voice.
“Look, if you just settle down-”
“What’s going on here?” Beatrix asked. Everyone, including the machine gun legged chick, looked at her.
“Oh thank God!” Q yelled out.
“WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE?!”
“She saw that our movie didn’t do so good, so she just went NUTS!” explained the Mexican fellow.
“I WANT YOU OUT OF HERE!!” the machine gun legged chick screamed as she aimed her leg-gun at Beatrix. Before the first 30 or so shots were fired, Beatrix jumped out of the way.
Beatrix landed nearby and ran for cover.
“Cherry, no!” said Q.
“Cherry?” Beatrix asked. “The hell kinda name is Cherry?”
“She’s a stripper. With a special talent,” the Mexican fellow said.
“And a, uh, machine gun for a leg,” Q added.
“Nice characteristic,” Beatrix added, pulling out her sword.
Cherry finally ran out of bullets and she hobbled over to where Beatrix was, who stood up with the sword.
“I don’t want you around!” Cherry bellowed.
“You’re just jealous that my movieSSS did better than yours!”
“You bitch!”
“Well, it’s not my fault your movie was directed by the guy who gave us ‘Sharkboy and Lavagirl’”.
“Yeah well…your guy…produced Hostel! And Hostel Part 2!”
“Ooh, that wasn’t necessary.”
Beatrix raised her sword and chopped off Cherry’s left arm, who looked at it, not at horror but with glee.
“Oh good! I can put a bazooka there!”
Cherry kicked her machine gun leg and kicked Beatrix in the side with it, causing her to fall. Cherry grabbed the sword and looked at it.
“Or this will do instead!” Cherry said, who then went and shoved the sword into the bloody stump. Cherry then made it move around.
“Nice.”
“You better, uh, run!” Q yelled out.
Beatrix got up and started running, with Cherry doing a sort of a half run-half stomp towards her. Beatrix thought and thought as she looked around. Then she saw the one thing that’ll take care of this deformed bitch.
Right in front of her was the Killer Car from “Death Proof,” with the skull painted on the hood and everything. Cherry stopped as Beatrix got in.
“Hold on to your remaining limbs,” Beatrix said, while she revved up the car. Cherry turned around and started running the other way. Beatrix continued revving the engine until it was nice and ready. Before Cherry could make it out the door, Beatrix put the death car into drive and immediately was going about damn near 80 MPH.
She was slowly catching up to Cherry, who was praying for more bullets to magically appear in her leg gun but it wasn’t happening. Beatrix then swerved off to the right and headed for a ramp that was suddenly there. She jumped the ramp and the car flew into the air, heading towards Cherry. Before Cherry knew it, the car landed right on top of her, crushing her entire body. Beatrix, for good measure, ran over the little stump that remained of Cherry, before getting out.
“That’s what I call a race car in the red.”
For those curious to the votes, it was Lara Croft at 26 and Tony Stark at 11. Lara’s total voting score for the entire event was… I kid you not… 69.
