The plough girl, part 6
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We stayed talking until dusk, and then I lifted him back into the wheelchair, and set off for his apartment. "Olga," he said. "Mmh?" I answered. "Don't look back but we're being followed," he told me. I looked back. Sure enough, two guys were keeping station on us about fifty yards back. "Olga," he said again. "What?" "It's an ambush. There's another two guys up front, trying to hide in doorways. Leave me and run for it." "I'm not leaving you to get beaten up. That's my job," I joked. "Olga, this is serious. Four that I've spotted, and there could be others. And I don't think they're waiting to play patty-cake. Run for your life." No way. Plough girls aren't cowards. Gary had suffered enough at my hands, it was clearly on me to look after him. I wasn't going to leave him to the mercy of these four toughs. But I could see a way to even the odds a bit. I did a u-turn, and ran back the way we'd come. Clearly, the thugs weren't expecting me to run towards danger, so at first, they didn't know what to do. Ten seconds later I was in front of them. I kicked one of them in the head, which is a dangerous thing to do, because I could lead to a fatality, and the other one in the groin. He folded up nicely and I smashed my two fists into the back of his head as he went down. He hit the pavement, and lay still. By then, the other two had arrived, and I could see two more running towards me. This was good; two at a time is better than four at once. I left Gary and the two thugs I'd already handled, and met the first two before they could realise their mistake. I'm six foot three, and my legs are a lot longer than their arms. Which is just as well, because they were both armed with baseball bats, and looked like they were ready to use them. So I used the reach of my legs to kick one of them in the side, and there was a satisfying crack as his ribs broke. The other one swung his bat at me and connected. He hit my left shoulder, and my left arm went numb. But I grabbed his bat with my right hand and jerked it towards me. He had two choices, hold on or let go. Both choices were bad. If he let go, I would be armed and he not. So he hung on to the bat, and was jerked forward enough so that my raised knee could crash into his genitals. Strike four. The last two arrived, out of breath, and split up. One of them went for Gary, the other one pulled a knife and threatened me with it. So I picked up thug four and threw him at thug five, which I don't think he expected, and I followed up with a broken knife arm, so he dropped his weapon. A fist to the belly took him out of action, leaving thug six, who had wisely decided to make a run for it.
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The plough girl, part 7
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Olga deals with a wife beater. But the outcome isn't what you might have expected. Olga also gets another plough girl to deal with the mob guy who was harassing her. And she lets her borrow her plough, just for a little while. Anastasia is taller, broader and deeper than Olga. Olga is big, but Anastasia is a lot bigger. "I visited Robin again. This time, the baby Star was asleep, which suited me fine. I took Robin's hand, pulled him into his bedroom, took off my dress. Is it violating him If the victim keeps gasping "Yes, yes!" I'd guess, sort of."
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The plough girl, part eight
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Olga is promoted to head of security at the casino, and makes some long-needed changes. She also suggests a routine where she crushes a coconut between her thighs, and this really impresses the customers. Then she does the same with a skull ... which she then explains is just a plastic replica. She then added a quarter-bending routine. with the offer of, you give me $50,and a quarter, and I give you back the quarter, bent in half. But what really gets the customes excited, is her plough dance, using a real. 600 pound plough, where she lifts it, dances with it, raises it over her head and swings it down again. All very graceful, and when she's finished the dance, six men from the audience try to lift the plough between them, but they can only just manage to get it a few inches above the floor.
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The plough girl, part 9
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Olga is interviewed on TV, and as a result, she meets Trudi, another plough girl. Trudi tells Olga that she's going back to Ukraine, to fight the Russians. "We're going back to Ukraine, and this time we're going to send the Russians back where they came from." Olga explains "I have to do this. I can't just stand by, and let other people fight my fight." Olga does her plough dance on the ship to Hamburg; the passengers love her. The plough girls make a plan. They will return to Ukraine, and go behind Russian lines, where they plan to kill Russian officers, destroy supply depots and ruining their logistics, so that the front lines are starved of fuel, ammo and food. The Russians would soon feel the wrath of a plough girl.
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The plough girl - part ten
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Olga starts her gory work - killing Russian officers. The first one died in her leg scissors. He died when his ribs collapsed and penetrated his internal organs. He bled internally, copiously, and died silently. After killing several more officers, she attacked a stores depot, using a truck. She hitched a lift in a truck, leaned towards the driver, took his head in her hands and gave it a sharp twist, wringing his neck like a chicken. He was dead before he knew what was happening. The truck was doing fifty kph when it hit the oil drums, but she jumped off just before that happened. There was a satisfying explosion when one of the oil drums went up, another when the the fuel in the truck caught, and then the fire spread to the other oil drums, a raging inferno, which quickly spread to the big storage tanks nearby.
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The plough girl - part eleven
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Olga turns her attention to the railway system, because that's the way that military supplies were moved. She didn't have explosives, but she had something just as good - her legs. She used her powerful thighs to bend the rails a few inches, and the next train that came along derailed, the wagons behind also derailed, the fuel wagons burst and caught fire and the whole thing became a major disaster. After she did the same thing again, the Russians started patrolling the tracks in squads of four. They were easy meat for Olga and her sling. All she needed was her head scarf and her ammo was a stone. Then she started to bend the rails in tunnels, causing huge crashes that would take months to clear. Her efforts made the railway system nearly useless, because trains could only move slowly, and the lines had to be patrolled frequently. So Russian logistics had to go by road, and Olga used her sling to ambush truck convoys.
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The plough girl, part 12
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Olga turns her attention to the Russian airfields. They are heavily defended against attack from the air - radar, missiles and ack-ack. But they had no defense against a plough girl. She tore a hole in the chain link fence, sneaked in and stole a 300 pound barrel of gasoline. Then she grabbed a pilot and tortured him until he told her where the nearby airfields were. How do you throw a 300 pound barrel of gasoline, 1000 feet? Not even a plough girl can do that. So she built a trebuchet in the middle of the forest. Her first shot hit the fuel dump and started a huge fire. Her second shot hit the ammo storage, and there was a huge explosion which wrecked the airfield. After doing this a few times, the Russians got wise and burned down any forest within a kilometer of an airfield. So Olga changed tactics. Then an airplane takes off, it starts off pretty low - low enough for Olga to be able to hit it with a rock, thrown from her sling. This doesn't do much damage to the rock, but wrecks the airplane. And when that stopped working, she used home-made spars and a spear thrower. One spear, one airfield.
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Respect all, fear nun - part one
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I run an orphanage, but it's very different from the usual orphanages. I'm Fiona, a nun on loan from St Hilda. You'll remember St Hilda's, the convent with the motto "Nil bonum sine passione", which means "No pain, no gain" and denotes the way we use Septadecaherbis and heavy iron to build massive muscles. The ingredients for the seventeen herbs and spices of Septadecaherbis are, of course, a secret. For a St Hilda's nun, I'm less than the average size - my arms are only 21 inches. My best friend Mandy is 24, Nora is 26. But 21 is usually enough. Mandy says that "biceps aren't everything", and proves it by showing her enormous thighs. I don't have huge thighs, but I do have a useful brain. Anyway, back to the orphanage. Apart from the fact that it's run by nuns seconded from St Hilda, we're very focused towards the off springs. It's bad enough that they're orphans, and don't know the love that only parents can give. We do our best for them, but there's a limit to how much love three nuns can give to 24 off springs. It's not that we lack love. It's that there simply isn't enough time in each day to give them what they'd get from a family, from parents. But here's my clever idea. Dogs. As well as 24 off springs, we have 24 dogs. Dogs will give unlimited love, unconditional love, and will be constantly available playmates. Plus, each off spring has to care for his or her dog, so they learn how to give as well as take.
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Respect all, fear nun - part six
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We use 100 pound weights, because if you only use 50s, you get a very crowded bar. Hilde had four on each side, so she was pushing 800 pounds steadily up and down. And then I realised. She had meant kilograms, I did a quick calculation in my head - double it and add ten per cent, and the 450 came to - oh my giddy aunt! "Nine ninety," I told Nora, "she's topping out at 990 pounds. Not even you can do that." "Eight twenty is my current best clean and jerk," she said, "she's pushing a thousand." A thousand pounds, of course, is the hope and prayer of every St Hilda's nun. It's a nice round number - five disks on each side of the bar. Nora eyed her enviously. "I wonder what they use instead of Septadecaherbis", she mused, "and whether I can try it?" "Ask her," I grumped. Nora grabbed my rosary after compline. "We need to talk," she said, and showed me a small bottle. "What is it?" I asked, curiously. "She calls it Siebzehnkraut," Nora said. I sniffed it cautiously, it didn't smell like Septadecaherbis. "I'm going to try it," Nora announced. "Nora! You shouldn't! You don't know how it will react with you." Nora shook her head, and said "990 pounds. I'm so there." A week went by. Pray and lift, pray and lift. We were happy, the off springs were happy and the dogs were ecstatic - it doesn't take much to make a dog happy. Nora was dosing on Siebzehnkraut, and I was measuring her biceps every day. By the end of the week, she'd put on half an inch to 26 1/2, and her bench press had gone from 670 to 710. It looked like Siebzehnkraut was the real McCoy. I talked to Hilde. "Can we get more of your Siebzehnkraut?" I asked bluntly. "Ab naturlich," she smiled. "I will der mutterhaus schreiben." Well, that was easy. I thought I'd have to twist her arm a bit to get her agreement, and I was pretty sure that her arm was much too big for me to twist. And while we were waiting for the package from Germany to arrive, Hilde shared her own supplies with it.
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The Plough Girl Squadron, part six
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The Plough Girl Squadron moves to Chicago, and creates an interrogation room. Milly breaks the fingers of a small-time drug deaer, one at a time, He screams rather loudly, so Milly squeezes a rubber ball into his mouth. After breaking enough fingers, the drug dealer decides to name his boss, so the Plough Girls put in into their "zoo", and they started to plan the raid on the boss's house. The plan was simple. They filled an oil drum with 350 pounds of gasoline, and Olga threw it into a winddow; this was followed by a gasoline-soaked rag on fire. The girls captured the six guys who ran out of the house, and took them back to the interrogation room. The Plough Girls used an combination of intimidation and sex, to turn the guys into puppets
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