Nella the Nun Wrestler

Nella meekly crossed herself and stood unsteadily. Decades of prayer had abused her knees into weak shredded beds of lettuce. She adjusted her modest shift and stepped into the ring. She was God's wife and someone needed a beat down in the name of his Him and His administrators on earth, starting with the Pope.

Her mind raced back to the days before cagefighting; back to the time before she married God and wore the frock at the Saint Mary Elisabeth Antononina Vladovich Estonia's convent. She was young and eager then, hustling yuan from the American tourists for hand jobs and bags of meth. Sometimes they wanted exotic stuff like bath salts, cinnamon, or hamsters. She drew the line at GMOs. She wouldn't sell anything that might be harmful to the environment. Even then, she believed in a higher power and His call to protect and cherish His creation.

That sunny day of double-aught she had scored a batch of military grade caffeine. She had mixed it with water and started mainlining it down the gullet. She had tilted her head back to take in the rays of Atum-Ra. The poison drug rushed through her brain and brought time to a standstill. A shadow crept across her face and she opened her eyes too slowly in the jacked-up hyper state she was enjoying. A round white face entered her vision and the face smiled.

"Do you know the way to San Jose?" the stranger asked in a comical slow motion drawl. "I'm a tank driver and we're doing operations..."

She smiled, shaded her eyes, then laughed. She laughed uncontrollably and doubled over trying to supress the giggles. The stranger bent closer, concern on his face.

"Hey, are you all right? You look like you OD'd on caffeine..." he said.

She reached up to bat away the slow-motion arm that moved toward her. Trails of blue and red swirled in the air as she moved. Laughter filled an echo chamber, sounding like tinkling ice in a scotch glass. The threads of gravity holding her hair down shifted slightly and most of the world went sideways while her head held still. A slow row of dogs barking through thick boiling fudge crested as the world turned red.

Nella woke later in the hospital among the beeping machines and cursed the police officer sitting next to her bed. He looked up from the magazine he was reading and smiled suddenly, the same smile she had seen before her overdose. It was bright and open, disarming and charming. She hated him.

"Hi, lady. Sorry I don't know know your name. My name is Salmon, first Over Lieutenant Commander Corporal of the 32nd division of the 14th tank platoon based in White Sands." The commander stood and reached out his hand to shake hers. Nella huffed nosily and stared at the ceiling. After a long while Salmon sat down again.

He tried again, "Look, I know you've had a hard life. I was on my way to manouevers in Norcal and I've never been there and I don't know the way, so I asked you if you'd been to San Jose." Nella giggled again reflexively. Salmon continued, "I know it sounds funny. But you looked so cute and I was so concerned for you when you passed out... I've seen coffee drunkies like you before and recognised the signs..."

At that, Nella screamed and grabbed her temples with both hands. She was in withdrawal from the caffeine and her head hurt. Her stomach twisted violently and she pulled her legs up to her chest.

"Listen!" she spat at Salmon who now stood next to her. "I don't know you and I just want to hustle a few grams for some yuan. I need to get out of this stupid gown and hospital and I need to transact. Some. Business."

"Yes, yes," Salmon said, placating her. He motioned for three nuns to come into the room. The nuns brandished bibles and they moved in to subdue Nella.