Americana vs. Alexandria Parker

  The lights shone off the announcer's sweaty forehead as he raised the silver microphone to his lips. "Ladies and gentlemen, out next match is standard regulation. First, from Skokie, Illinois, standing at 5'7" and 172 pounds - Americana!"

  And with that, she entered. Americana smiled proudly, hoisting old Glory high as she strode down the center aisle. Her face was beaming, her smile warm and inviting. Her red-white-and blue cape trails after her, fluttering as if she were a super hero. To some in the crowd, she is. Aside from the cape, however, she'd covered her body with a robe, tied tightly to conceal her. Kate Smith's rendition of "God Bless America" played her passed the commentator's table and into the ring, where she laid the flag to rest against the corner. Slowly she walked to the center of the ring and looked out upon her cheering fans. Americana dropped her shoulders, letting her robe cocoon fall gracefully down to the mat to reveal the shockingly well fit Parker bikini beneath. Once known for being somewhat overweight and out of shape, the curves of Americana's body showed she'd been working hard to push away from their forty-two years of age and step closer to the look of a woman in her twenties, and her body was complying with the request. Her hair and skin sparkling in the spotlights, the onlookers erupted in even louder excitement over the seasoned wrestler. The enthusiasm pushed Americana even more as she began pumping her arms into the air and blowing kisses. She waved and saluted as she circled the ring, trying to get the fans to chant with her.... "USA... USA..." Many did.

  Some, of course, did not.

  "Her opponent this evening," the announcer finally began, "from Buckhead, Georgia, standing at 5'9" and 145 pounds - Alexandria Parker!"

  A fire ball erupted from the entrance ramp. The crowd buzzed with anticipation as the smoke from the pyrotechnics cleard and the shapely outline strode from the smoke's heart, still slightly obscured by a curtain. Missy Elliot's, "She's a Bitch," bellowed out over the fans, the male portion of which divided its attention between Americana and the now entering Alexandria Parker. A luscios leg poked from behind the curtain, and men began cat-calling and whistling. As the curtain finally parted, in sauntered "the divine" Alexandria Parker, strutting like a diva. Her black cat suit was emblazened with a flame design, and her eyes flickered with arrogance as she strolled toward the ring. Dangling from her left hand was the glistening, golden tag belt. She teased the crowd as she squatted over the bottom rope to enter the ring. She held her tag belt high in the air before finally walking to a neutral corner.

  The ring attendant took the belt and Alexandria spun to face her opponent. Alexandria looked out to the audience and smiled as she heard further calls and applause, but her smile drooped quickly as she realized the adoration was divided between affections for her and Americana. She again glared towards her Americana. Their eyes met only briefly to exchange daggers before the bell finally rang.

  The two met dead center in the ring. Alexandria managed to lock with Americana, but the meeting was brief. The senior wrestler spun and whipped the young woman back into the ropes, catching Alexandria with a foot to the side of her thin face.

  Alexandria stumbled back, rubbing the area gingerly and burning holes into Americana with her eyes. Slowly, and cautiously, she began to circle the woman, looking Americana over like she were prey. Americana, however, turned her attentions to the fans.

  "USA!" she called, "USA" And the fans heard her, and followed suit like good patriots.

  Alexandria took the opportunity, like a good polititian, and dropkicked Americana in the side.

  Americana was not to be had so easily. Both women met at their feet and exchanged blows rapidly, slugging out as best they could. Clenched fists bursts across pretty faces, and neither seemed to be giving way. A lock up occurred as each woman tried to overpower the other. Slowly, Americana back Alexandria to the ropes behind her. Parker retaliated by raising her knee into Americana's thigh and, as the older woman relaxed the hold, slashing her across the eyes with her claws.

  As Americana stumbled off blindly, Alexandria took a step to further the damage, but the referee stepped in.

  "No eye rakes or gouges, Parker!" he barked. "You know the rules!"

  Alexandria forced an innocent face as she rubbed the palm of her hand along the referee's cheek. "I'm really sorry, sir," she purred. "I promise it won't happen again."

  Her eye shot up. Americana was charging at her. Like a big, fat rhino, Parker said to herself. Parker disengaged the referee and met Americana, dropping to her back and wrapping her legs around those of the attacker, taking her down to the mat. She rolled on top of Americana and pulled her legs and chin up, pulling as best and far as she could. The referee checked for a submission. Instead, Americana latched onto the bottom rope. This was enough.

  "Break the hold," he ordered.

  Alexandria looked at him, somewhat befuddled.

  "Break the hold, now!" he said.

  The young woman pouted and slowly relented. She stood quickly and faced Americana, who was now up on her knees. Alexandria slammed her boot into the back of Americana's head, at the base of the neck, snapping her senior's head forward and through the ropes. Alexandria smiled. Another opportunity.

  Parker strattled the woman from behind and lifted the lower rope over Americana's head and dropped it. The patriot gagged and sputtered as the velvet tightened and choked her.

  Alexandria got one good kick to Americana's posterior before the referee yanked her back by the arm, his face reddened. "No choking! I'm not in the mood for this, Parker! You're coming closer to being booted from this match!"

  Alexandria only gave a vampish smirk as she again rubbed her hand against his cheek. "If you say so. I'll try to be... good," she offered, accenting the last word as best she could to offer a double reference.

  As the referee sidestepped, though, Parker had a slight surprise. Not only had Americana freed herself from the ropes, she'd built up quite a bit of steam - not nearly as worn as one would expect from a woman who was choking a few seconds ago. Americana plowed into Alexandria, tumbling over the woman. She stood, but fell back immediately, landing all her weight square in the middle of Alexandria's chest. The referee feel for a count, but one of Alexandria's long legs darted up and nailed Americana' in the back of the head. Alexandria wriggled her arms under the woman enough to grasp and push her off to the side, escaping a pin.

  Again, both women rose, circling. Just beyond the confines of the ropes, the chant of, "USA," began again, thundering through the arena. The women locked again, but the mantra seemed to be giving Americana the power, or desire, she needed. She drove Parker to her knees instantly. Americana took a handful of Alexandria's silky hair and pulled her up, lifting the woman over her shoulders and and airplane spinning her, quickly driving her back-first onto her knee. As Parker rolled to the mat, Americana turned to the crowd to blow a kiss. She instead met the referee, face to face.

  "No hairpulling!" the referee boomed. "I don't give a damn what colors you boast! The rules apply to you, too!"

  Her mouth gaped to give a reply, but the world before her ripped past as Alexandria took Americana from behind and gave her a taste of what an airplane spin was like, subsequently dumping the woman on her head. Americana slumped to the canvas. Immediately, Americana's neck strained upwards as a camel clutch was applied. Americana felt the muscles in her neck tighten and spasm as she looked up into the burning, hateful face of Alexandria Parker, sneering down at her. She clawed at the hands that held her head in place but they were locked firmly. Her eyes darted forward - the ropes were too far. She gurgled as her head was pulled back even more. Spots appeared before her eyes and she felt dizzy. She had to act.

  Her arms were still free, though. She reached up and slapped both on the side of Parker's head repeatedly, hitting the woman's ears over and over until finally she gave way with the final, Herculean clap. Parker wobbled as she stood, but stomped her foot up and down Americana's back to show she was far from finished.

  Parker took hold of the fallen woman's hair, and the referee immediately shouted. It made no difference, of course. Americana driving her fist into Parker's gut, however, did. So did the uppercut and the chop to the chest. Alexandria stumbled away, but Americana stayed on top of her, raining down punches as quickly as she could, not allowing the woman to recover from any of them. Parker retreated to the ropes, but they offered no safety from Americana's blows. The final hit, a right hook, spun the woman just enough for Americana to seize an opportunity - a Torture Rack. Americana let Alexandria slide down her back from the hold, only to turn it into a neckbreaker which rendered the young beauty motionless on the mat.

  Motionless, and waiting.

  Americana scaled. the ropes in the corner and looked out into the fans and over her still opponent. She raised a hand to salute those people, and the country, that stood behind her, then launched herself for her finisher.

  The only thing she finished was the mat, assuming it had been planning on escaping. Parker rolled out at while Americana had soared above her.

  Americana rolled on the mat, clutching her aching body. As she did, Parker's boot smashed down into her face, grinding away at her features. Another smash followed, as did a kick to the top of the head. Her boot made its way to Americana's throat. Sadistically, Alexandria put her weight into the choke while the referee flailed in protest.

  "Damn it, I warned you!" the referee screamed. "I warned you!"

  Parker's eyes shot up at the referee. Warned me? she thought.

  The referee motioned the time keeper, who rang the bell. Parker's eyes became saucers as he pushed her off of Americana. He helped her up, and held her arm aloft.

  "The winner," said the unseen announcer's voice, "by disqualification: Americana!"

  Alexandria's jaw dropped. Her face reddened as she stormed from the ring, past the two commentators (whom were jabbering away) and up the aisle.

  Americana's knees buckled slightly as oxygen flooded her lungs. She was dizzy, and the room spun, but slowly everything came back into focus. The pounding of her heart filled her ears, but it faded, replaced by the pounding chant of her fans.

  "USA! USA!"

  Americana stood tall, strengthened by the mantra.