Thread: [Fictional Stories - ENF] Will’s Mom Comes Undone
View Single Post
  #176  
Old 03-12-2017, 03:59 PM
Chasmo's Avatar
Chasmo Chasmo is offline
Senior Member
 
Join Date: Feb 2004
Posts: 138
Thanks: 160
Thanked 907 Times in 116 Posts
Default The Halftime Show -- Part 2

No sooner than Rachel had asked herself that question, however, had Danielle and her son managed harmlessly to avoid yet another miskicked ball that -- not surprisingly given how her day had gone thus far -- smashed directly into the seated Rachel Miras and, as Will and his mother laughed heartily at the scene, caused Rachel's overstuffed bag to one more time dispel its contents to the ground.

As her unscathed nemesis once again bent at the waist to retrieve the ball, Rachel characteristically found herself humiliated and without a voice. To make matters worse, she came face to face with Mrs. Parnell who, still in full bend as she gathered the errant ball, couldn't resist hurling yet another insult, this time out of earshot of anyone but its intended target.

"Maybe if you stopped stuffing that fat face of yours with food Miras you'd be able to dodge a ball kicked by a child -- not to mention to regain some interest from your husband who seems almost unable to keep his eyes off me."

And then, while she remained bent over in a manner clearly intended to inspire drool and more from the stadium's assembled men, Danielle Parnell turned away from Rachel Miras -- giving the latter a clear view of her there for all to see leather short encased bottom -- and, finally standing up, rolled the ball back over to the quite evidently aroused referee. As if to add insult to injury, the lovely lawyer managed to step directly onto -- and crush -- one of Rachel's fallen sandwiches and, as the afternoon sun caught the golden zipper pull where Danielle's sexy little shorts met the base of her perfectly formed back, it reflected directly into Rachel's eyes which caused her to spill her soft drink into her sweat pants covered lap.

But in that moment, as she dabbed her wet clothing with some of the old napkins that had fallen from her bag, a providential plan came together in the mind of Rachel Miras -- a plan that would set into motion a cataclysmic shift in the balance of power between her and her longtime tormentor. As Rachel looked up at Mrs. Danielle Parnell's highly aerobicized, leather short encased bottom she focused not on what treasures her dimwitted husband and most other men imagined beneath Ms. Perfect's fancy little pants but rather on the very large golden zipper pull that held those fancy pants together. The surface from which the actual light of the sun's reflection had momentarily blinded her a moment before had --ironically -- shown her the metaphorical light of her soon to be revenge!

Reaching down into the scattered mess of her shoulder-bag's former contents, Rachel quickly seized upon a large paper clip and the half-used container of dental floss. Then, working as delicately as she could, the now driven Mrs. Miras pulled the entirety of the spooled up floss -- a good eight feet or so -- from its holder and tied one end tightly to the base of the paper clip. Bending the clip so that the floss would not slip off -- and as delicately and naturally as possible so as not to attract anyone's attention -- Rachel Miras threaded its open hook shaped end through the pull on the top of the zipper fastening the rear off Mrs. Parnell's oh so small, oh so tight little shorts. Chewing quickly an old stick of gum, Mrs. Miras used the resultant “glue” to ensure the hook did not slip off.

As the preening Danielle, completely unaware of Mrs. Miras' mischief, continued to drink in the adoration of all the men present, Rachel quite snugly tied the other end of the dental floss to a very sturdy leg of a nearby immovable picnic table upon which the team's halftime drinks and snacks had been arranged.

Although she fully intended to cause Danielle no small amount of embarrassment with her makeshift plan of sabotage, Rachel Miras never could have imagined the episode that was soon to transpire. Before that show began, however, and as the game drew ever closer to half-time, Alex Morgan and Hope Solo overheard a conversation between Mrs. Parnell and her arrogant young son that soon would cause them unknowingly to ally themselves with the up-to-now hapless Mrs. Miras.

"Hey mom," young Will inquired of his model-worthy mother, "I see that amazon Hope Solo had the nerve to show up here even after you made it clear at your meeting that she was all washed up."

"Everyone is entitled to a victory lap at the end of his or her career Will, even if one tops it off by bringing shame and disrepute to the very game that handed her life on a silver platter. I mean really, getting into a fist fight with her sister and nephew, getting arrested, thinking she should be the one to champion equal rights for women and then behaving like a baby after the team flamed out of the Olympics. The woman clearly has no shame," Danielle -- quite shameless herself -- arrogantly proclaimed.

Laughing heartily as his mother verbally dressed down the character of the bigger, younger, woman, the teenage Oedipean added his own two cents to the assault, "that's what these women get for trying to be men -- girls' professional soccer -- who is watching that nonsense anyway. And what kind of adult nephew gets beaten up by his aunt -- what a wuss."

"I'm nothing if not a champion of women," his mother confidently countered, "but in this case I have to agree. It's too bad really, that other girl with her is so pretty."

* * *

Hope Solo was incensed.

"I should just kick her ass right now," the seething star steamed to her friend, "and that snotty kid's too."

"Calm down Hope," shot back the lovely Ms. Morgan, "I'm just as pissed as you -- 'the other girl is so pretty' -- but you know as well as I do that one more misstep and you'll never play on the national team again. Let's just smile and wave at halftime -- snap some pictures with these kids -- and get out of here."

As Hope took in Alex's suggestion, perhaps more thoughtfully than usual because her teammate was not in her ordinary uniform or gym togs but rather, like Hope, in a light sun dress and heels, the keyed-up keeper began to calm down. It's just not worth it she wisely thought to herself -- fate has a way of giving the Danielle Parnell's of the world just what they deserve.

* * *

No sooner had that thought crossed the great goalie's mind than did fate indeed lend a hand. As the run of play again made its way toward where Danielle, Will and the other family members of Maria's team were watching, a very powerfully kicked ball crashed quite unceremoniously into the sixty or so cups of pre-poured cherry Gatorade that sat on the aforementioned immovable picnic table. The resultant impact showered the mother and son Parnell with a veritable torrent of the sticky, red drink as -- continuing its only slightly interrupted flight -- the miskicked ball then managed to knock Mrs. Parnell's aviator shades from her now equally startled and angered face.

"Oh my God," the stymied stunner screamed, brushing the ruby juice from her soaking Burberry frock as well as from the Hermes silk leopard skin scarf tied around her supple neck, "my poncho -- it's ruined."

Pulling the cashmere casualty over her head -- and in so doing revealing her tight, white, cotton-ribbed Polo tank top that covered but most certainly profiled her taught midsection and laid bare her tan, fit arms -- and notwithstanding her annoyance at the common haus fraus now having a laugh at the expense of her and her son -- Danielle Parnell immediately fixed her growing rage on the fat, little, snot nosed kid whose lack of athletic talent had caused her this sudden embarrassment -- Sarah Miras. It came as no surprise to Danielle that the child's overstuffed mother, still sitting right behind her, seemed to be laughing loudest of all -- the pig.

Determined despite the minor setback to bring some order to this sideline chaos Danielle Marie Parnell decided to make an example of the little brat and in so doing show her hillbilly of a mother what it means to impose some discipline on a child.

Striding purposefully in her towering heels as every man present remained transfixed by her mouthwateringly long and fit legs, Mrs. Parnell began to scold the little Cretan from a distance. What happened next would be the talk of the youth soccer league for years to come . . .
Reply With Quote
The Following 9 Users Say Thank You to Chasmo For This Useful Post: