THE TALES OF CAMELOT SERIES

The Legend of the Black Satin Knickers states that she who covets them shall become what they represent. Arthur pulled the sword from the stone to become king, so too, she who slips on the black satin panties will become queen--the queen of the perfect female form--or so I believed.

Chapter 1: The End of the World

Do you want to know why I bought them? Do you? Do you really want to know? Because I'm sick and tired of being looked at as a scrawny, geeky-whatever and having it make me feel like one.

     Tonight I decided to write everything down that happened to me. Why? Because it's either write or bust! And I'll write everything-the truths, the fantasies, the frustrations-I'll hold nothing back.

     To start with-who has the right to say that a geek can't wear black satin panties? There are two women inside every female. The sexy Marilyn Monroe type, desiring nothing more than to draw out the lust in every male-and the gentle Jackie Kennedy type, the sophisticated female soaking up every ounce of respect and dignity she knows she deserves.

     Do you want to know what pushed me over the edge? Do you? Do you really want to know?

     Both the women inside me, Katina Beebe, were brutally assaulted today, Friday, September 20, 1963-the real day that will live in infamy.

     I sat on the steps of the school entrance just after the last bell and had paused at a page in my Life magazine when I felt them behind me. I turned and looked up. One hand dug under each armpit and yanked me to my feet. Life flopped down a step and sprawled open to a large picture of my idol of female sophistication.

     The big senior, that my best friend Heidi and I called "Miss Boobs", snatched the magazine up and stared at it. I wondered if all perfectly formed females like her were hourglasses lacking of human compassion. Maybe it came with the package.

     "So, Kateenie weenie, this is who you admire?" Her two senior companions holding me on either side laughed. "You really think your geeky, freaky qualities are going to put you in the same class with Jackie Kennedy?"

     She ripped the magazine in half.

     "Hey," I said. "That's mine."

     Miss Boobs tore each half in half and tossed the fragments over her shoulder. The wind scattered them over the steps. The other kids sitting and standing around looked, saw it was me, and then went back to what they were doing. That's how little respect I get around Aberdeen High School.

     Miss Boobs pointed at me. "Hold this nerdy geek tight. I'm going to show her how to bring out her only feminine quality."

     Her senior companions squeezed tighter sending ripples of pain bouncing through my body. Miss Boobs opened her shoulder bag and took out her lipstick. Pulling the top off, she moved it toward my face.

     I shook my head. "What are you doing?"

     "You juniors need to stay out of our way," Miss Boobs said. "Now, hold still or I'll color your whole face red."

     The girls beside me clamped their hands on my head holding it still. Miss Boobs grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled back my head. And then-

     And then I got really mad!

     I thrust one elbow and hit the girl to my right in the ribs; and I thrust the other elbow into the girl's ribs to my left. They doubled over and released me.

     Grabbing the lipstick from Miss Boobs, I smeared it on her face and shoved her good and hard. She stumbled down the steps and fell into the grass.

     I strode toward the sidewalk along Monroe Street-that is, until Bill Morgan stepped in my way. He's the second-in-command in Ricky Mason's gang-a gang devoted to tearing apart nerdy geeks like Heidi and me.

     "Whoa," he said. "Wait, wait, wait." I stared at his muscular frame as he shoved a finger in my face. "Ain't you the geekiest geek there is?"

     "No way," I answered, and moved to stride around him. He stepped in my way again.

     "Well, well, well, Miss 'Skinny Minnie' Katina Beebe." He threw up one finger. "You can't just walk around me like that."

     I feigned walking to the right. He stepped in that direction, and I darted around the other side and scurried to the street. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Bill strutting after me.

     I continued up Monroe and hurried for Front Street. Another glance back found Bill talking to two other Ricky Mason gang members. They took off after me while Bill twirled around and headed for State Street in the opposite direction.

     I reached the intersection, trotted across Monroe, and disappeared behind the row houses up Front Street. As soon as I was out of sight, I broke into a run. I reached Jackson Street and Bill Morgan jumped out from around the corner grabbing my shoulders. The other two boys pulled up behind me and Bill pushed me back into them.

     "Where you going in such a hurry?" Bill said.

     The taller boy with the hunting cap grabbed my right arm. "Yeah. Where's the fire?" He broke into a long, machine-gun rattle of giggles.

     "Fire?" the short kid with curly blonde hair said. "Hey, you can tell people you was burned in one. That'll explain why you're so ugly and that it's not really your fault."

     And then I got really mad again!

     I thrust forward and gave Bill such a shove that it sent him reeling backwards into the bricks of the row houses. "Just one, two-timin', cotton-pickin', barn-burnin' minute."

     I spun around, jumped up, and let both feet fly toward the other two boys. Each foot connected with a different stomach and the two dropped to their knees with their mouths frozen in an open position.

     In my dreams!

     I remember last year in tenth grade when we studied American literature and we came to James Thurber. His character of Walter Mitty always appealed to me; probably because I felt a kinship with him. He sat and daydreamed about being the ultimate hero-and he really was the ultimate zero.

     And so am I. What really happened that morning was this:

     Miss Boobs drew my groin on my face and ordered me not to erase it until I got home. Bill Morgan and his two henchmen did bump into me, and I did run; but they caught me and made fun of the drawing on my face.

     Then Bill got rough by grabbing my hair and pushing me against the row house brick wall. They all made fun of my other body parts, too. Bill said my putrid-brown hair looked like a wad of cooked spaghetti. Giggle Boy said I was as skinny as a stick of macaroni, and Curley said my boobs were the size of two gumdrops-all sadly true.

     Then they pushed me to the brick sidewalk causing my glasses to fly off my head and my books to scatter everywhere. My skirt flew up exposing my backside and Bill pointed out my scrawny rump to the other two. Then Giggle Boy said I looked like I was drawn by a Mad Magazine cartoon artist after he and his buddies threw an all-night drinking binge.

     They left laughing louder than a pack of wild hyenas, and I couldn't help thinking that it was too bad the Germans lost World War II. The Ricky Mason gang would have made great Nazi guards in a concentration camp.

     A weird thing happened as soon as they left. My tears dried up, and I felt too humiliated to cry. I stood still stuffed with many mixed emotions, my lousy life flashing through my mind. I hated Ricky Mason and his gang. I hated boys-and I hated shapely girls with big boobs.

     But much more than that-I hated being Katina Beebe!

The Last Days of Camelot: The Legend of the Black Satin Knickers is copyright © 1999-Present. All Rights Reserved by the Author.