Posted by Ric delCampo on April 03, 2003 at 08:16:58:
A Season with the Dallas Cowgirl Cheerleaders
By Ric delCampo
Chapter Two
Dallas Cowgirls vs. Miami Mermaids
“What the hell did you think you were doing?” Christine Golden had a difficult time hiding her amusement though. The tone of her voice may have been stern, but her bright blue eyes sparkled with humor.
“What?” Raquel Ramos asked, playing the innocent. She was still angry about the whole incident and wasn’t about to take any guff over it.
The two Dallas Cowgirls sat in a bar in downtown Dallas nursing a couple of warm beers. Hard liquor was one of the sacrifices they made to be cheerleaders. Couldn’t risk damaging their beauty.
“You know that not only is ‘Grandstanding’ against the rules, and politically incorrect, it is also illegal in twenty-four states; one of those being California.”
“I wasn’t ‘Grandstanding,’” Raquel countered. “At least, not until they accused me of it.”
“Ahh, fuck ’em! Fuck ‘em all!” Christine said. “Here’s to the best shot on my squad.” She raised her glass to Raquel’s.
But Raquel couldn’t leave it at that. “You should talk. Wanting, planning to win a game; ambition, self-assuredness, they’re all against the law. What are you? Some kind of rebel? Dissident?”
“I’m one hell of a sexy cheerleader,” Christine insisted. “But you can’t do that forever.” She moved in closer to Raquel, as if they were co-conspirators. “This is all just a big accident. I went into this gig hoping I’d get killed in a real spectacular way. By shear dumb luck I survived three years. Every year I’d rejoin the squad, hoping this’d be the year I’d bite it big time. Last year I had an epiphany: I was going to survive. So I decided to survive well. Team Captains make twice as much as regulars, the more matches you play in, the more you make, and winning the Super Bowl pays best of all. If I’m going to be an ex-cheerleader, I’m going to be the fuckingest, richest ex-cheerleader there is.”
“So what the fuck is your story?” Christine asked, after she settled back.
“Same as everybody’s,” Raquel shrugged. “Born sterile in a family of breeders. My mother hates me. My sisters despise me. I flunked out of high school. Had nothing to live for. No future. Then some guy I knew from a diner where I was waitressing insisted I try out for the cheerleading squad. He insisted I was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. He swore to me he’d impregnate his wife if I bought it real good.”
“How generous of him.”
“Well, it was gratifying to discover somebody thought I was pretty.”
“Raquel, baby,” Christine said, “You’re so gorgeous, if I wasn’t straight, I’d fuck you myself.”
For the next two weeks the team trained hard. Two to three hours per day were spent on firearms training. A few of the girls complained, but Christine shut them down with stern words. She also swore them to secrecy. No other team ever spent that much time a day in all their training. One of the attractions to cheerleading was the excessive free time and excesses that accompanied it.
Their next match was in Miami against the Miami Mermaids.
The Mermaid wore green stiletto high-heeled shoes, green mini-skirts, and white turtle-neck sweaters. The sweaters were tight to show off their curves, and were cropped to bare their bellies. As more than half the Mermaids were Hispanics, the average height was less. Still, all the girls were slender and athletic. They all had waist-length hair and many of them had dyed it a bright green.
They were giggling and bouncing vivaciously as they assembled on the field for the challenge. Their dance routine had been sloppy and unprofessional and Christine so told them.
They were armed with Barretta 9mms. But Raquel noted that four of them carried King Neptune tridents and another four had scuba spear guns instead of firearms. Apparently they were more interested in pleasing the audience than in winning.
The Mermaid Captain was quite creative in her response, swearing at Christine in three languages. The gauntlet was thrown.
Christine won the coin toss. “Hasta luego, Baby!” Raquel thought as she peered intently at her opponents across the field. Already she was determining who looked most like her sisters and whom she would enjoy killing the most.
The two captains stood back-to-back. They marched to their respective forty yard line. Christine took careful, deliberate aim, she didn’t want to appear to be showing off, and killed the Mermaid Captain with one shot to her left breast. The Mermaid appeared to be quite shocked at dying so soon. Her mouth dropped open as she clutched at her breast. She stared in stunned horror at the blood on her hands. Then she dropped dead on the spot.
A few Mermaids opened up. But the rest held their fire. Lacking a leader, they mostly just milled around aimlessly at their twenty yard line as if they didn’t know what to do next.
Christine had held her ground. She signaled for the Cowgirls to advance. But she was wary of the Mermaids’ tactics. She smelled a trap. Nobody was this mindless.
A Cowgirl, one of the cannon-fodders, dropped out of line clutching her right breast. She smiled painfully at the crowd and moaned in agony. She kept up the show until her bleeding body failed her and she died at the thirty-five yard line. The shooter behind her took a revenge shot, but missed. The rest of the Cowgirls maintained fire discipline.
Suddenly the Mermaids broke into five groups of eight and dashed to different spots on the field. They began firing, pouring lead into the Cowgirl line. Another cannon-fodder bought one into the stomach. Hot lead slammed into her belly, hunching her over, hugging her guts. She dropped her revolver and cried out, ‘I’m a dead slut!” She straightened up and fell over backwards to lay tits up in the grass.
The cannon-fodder directly in front of Raquel spun around to face Raquel, a stunned look in her bright eyes. She hugged her belly. A red stain spread across her hot paints and her cowgirl hat fell off. Raquel stepped over her quivering body.
“Fire!” Christine ordered.
The Cowgirls let go with their first volley of .44 slugs. Six Mermaids ate hot heavy lead.
One of the groups of eight, now six strong, charged the Cowgirl left flank. A second volley cut down five of them. But the last Mermaid, carrying a trident, survived to ram its three prongs into the belly of a Cowgirl. The hooked prongs speared through her body and erupted from her back. She grasped at the shaft and staggered away from the line.
The audience roared in approval. The impaled Cowgirl sank to her knees, her body convulsing, blood pumping from six jagged holes in her tender body. She crumpled up and bled out.
Three different Cowgirls pumped a dozen slugs into her killer. The Mermaid jerked and danced as the hot metal repeatedly violated her body. She slumped to the grass in a ragged, bloody heap.
Raquel sighted in on a gorgeous Hispanic girl with jet black hair. She shot the Mermaid in her cunt. The Mermaid gasped in surprise and feigned orgasmic pleasure as she grabbed her pussy with both hands.
The crowd roared.
A Referee blew her whistle. The first quarter was over.
The Cowgirls quickly reloaded as the dead were carried off the field and piled into a single heap for the audience’s viewing pleasure.
The two teams switched sides, the Cowgirls assembling on their new thirty yard line. Both teams called in replacements. Unfortunately, the Mermaids had lost more than ten players and couldn’t get back up to full playing strength.
The head ref’ blew her whistle and the clock started ticking.
“Fire at will,” Christine commanded. The Cowgirls began picking and choosing their targets.
A group of eight Mermaids charged the Cowgirl center. Christine killed the girl in front and Raquel killed another who was drawing down on Christine. Just as quickly, she put another slug into a trident girl about to impale Christine. Christine had emptied her revolver into the belly of a fourth girl and snatched up the trident. With an overhead thrust, she drove it into the chest of an onrushing Mermaid. Right into her breasts.
The crowd cheered.
Raquel and her cannon-fodder rushed forward to cover Christine’s withdrawal as she retreated to the reloading safe zone.
“Let’em have it, Cowgirls!” Raquel shouted as she pumped her fist in the air. She shot a retreating Mermaid in the back. The Miami girl grabbed at her back, whirled around, lost her footing, and collapsed into the turf. The last two safely retreated.
Raquel held her ground in spite of the fact she was out of bullets. The two sides exchanged pot-shots.
Christine returned and Raquel dashed to the reloading zone.
The Mermaids chose this moment to mount another assault. Eight more Mermaids lunged toward the Cowgirl right flank.
One fell with a bullet in her breast, but three Cowgirls, two of them cannon-fodder, and one shooter, doubled over in agony and staggered to their deaths. The right flank broke.
A Mermaid fired a spear into the right breast of a Cowgirl runner. The runner screamed and plucked at the offending metal shaft protruding from her soft, delicate flesh.
The crowd howled in excitement.
Two more of the Mermaids went down squirming in pain. But the rest were off in a dead run for the Cowgirl goal line.
One took a slug in the back and tumbled into a roll. She stopped in a bloody, tumbled heap.
Raquel stepped back onto the field.
Bam! A Mermaid bit the dust.
Bam! Down went another.
Bam! Three down.
The last Mermaid reached the goal line. Stopped six inches short and turned to gloat.
Raquel took deliberate aim. Her target was about fifty yards away.
Bam! A horrified look spread across the Mermaid’s face. She looked down at the bright red stain spreading across her tight, white sweater. It couldn’t be! But it was! She was dead.
The Mermaid dropped dead.
The whistle blew. The first half was over.
The Cowgirls took the opportunity to reload and call in replacements.
The surviving 12 Mermaids took up their new position. They had no more replacements.
The whistle blew.
All twelve Mermaids charged the Cowgirl left flank. None of them dared to assault the right flank—where Raquel stood.
Raquel tummy shot one before they engaged the Cowgirl line, then her line of fire was obstructed by other Cowgirls.
“Right runners away!” Christine shouted. Raquel and her cannon-fodder ran forward to clear the way for the runner behind them. It was an unnecessary tactic as there was no one in their way. Both right flank runners dashed ahead and crossed the goal line.
On the left flank the cheerleaders engaged in a head-to-heat shoot-out at point-blank range. Three Cowgirls dropped their guns and staggered away bleeding to death. But it wasn’t enough to break the line. The Mermaids retreated, leaving behind three more dead.
Her cannon-fodder had already crossed the goal line, as had the cannon-fodder and shooter protecting the second right-flank runner, when Raquel stopped, just short of the goal line. She turned to see what the crowd was yelling about. Across the field nine Mermaids were retreating toward their own goal.
Raquel looked at the goal line at her feet. Cross it and she was safe for the rest of the match. But she would also be out of the rest of the match.
Raquel, all alone, charged the Mermaids.
She didn’t stop to think she only had five bullets against nine opponents.
And she missed her first shot.
Her second killed a Mermaid.
The Mermaids returned fire. Raquel’s cowboy hat flew off her head.
A ref’ blew her whistle and threw a flag.
“Attempting to shoot an opponent in the head. The Cowgirls are awarded one penalty shot!” the ref’ announced.
Raquel replaced her hat after diligently examining the holes in it. She gave it a rakish tilt and took her place at the forty yard line.
One Mermaid stood on the opposing forty.
“Announce your shot! Announce your shot!” The crowd chanted. Apparently they remembered Raquel from the San Francisco match.
“Don’t do it!” Christine shouted.
“Fuck you!” the Mermaid shouted in defiance. “You ugly slut! You couldn’t hit me if you stuck your gun up my cunt!”
“Cunt shot!” Raquel shouted.
The crowd erupted in a frenzy. “Cunt shot! Cunt shot!” they chanted.
The ref’ blew her whistle and awarded the Mermaids one penalty shot. The ref’ handed the Mermaid her Barretta. Both girls were marched to the fifty yard line and stood back to back.
“You will walk to your forty yard line, turn, and fire,” the ref’ instructed them.
“You really think you’re gonna shoot my cunt?”
“I hope you enjoyed your fucking last night,” Raquel responded, “it’s the last time a man’s gonna stick his dick in you.”
They marched. They turned. They fired.
Raquel’s hat flew off again.
The Mermaid clutched her bleeding cunt. Her whole body trembled and quivered. “Ohhh!” she moaned and died.
The crowd went wild.
The whistle blew. Third quarter was over.
The fourth quarter began with a suicide charge by the last seven Mermaids. Six of them were gunned down. The last surviving Mermaid shot a spear into the belly of a Cowgirl and ran for the reload zone where she waited out the rest of the match.
Christine was so disgusted that she said to Raquel. “Go score.”
Raquel trotted up to the goal line. She was tempted to stop and take a bow, but she had already risked one penalty shot today. She triumphantly stepped across the goal line.
The crowd cheered her.
The rest of the Cowgirls returned to their bench to rest and wait out the clock.
Final score:
Cowgirls: 75.
Mermaids: 12
In the locker room Christine was too ecstatic to chew out Raquel for Grandstanding again. She also remembered how Raquel had saved her life.
That evening she sent the best gigolo on the Dallas payroll to Raquel’s’ room. Raquel’s cunt got the work-out of her life.
But across the country, another woman approached the Commissioner of Cheerleaders.
“Madame Commissioner, I have heard an ugly rumor. The Dallas Cowgirls are trying to win. They want to win the Super Bowl.”
“This is outrageous! You must confirm this. I will not stand for such behavior!”
End of Chapter Two.
Next Match: Dallas Cowgirls vs. Tokyo Schoolgirls.