Sister vs. Sister By Paul Beckman

My wife, Elaine, and I were taking our early evening walk, Elaine pumping her arms and me taller with longer strides keeping up when we heard the yelling. We turned left on Baybrook to see what was going on.

We saw the school before we saw the yellers. It was the rear of Our Lady of Blood Parochial school. The paved playground was surrounded by a chain link fence with vertical privacy boards that were spaced far enough apart for us to peek through. There was a cluster (gaggle?) of nuns spread out in a wide circle surrounding two who were duking it out in the center. There was one elderly nun sitting.

We broke our “no stopping” rule and watched.

“Do you think they make a habit of this?” Elaine asked.

“Check out the superior look on the one sitting,” I said.

The fighters wore boxing gloves and their habits; the headpiece of one was tilted — about ready to topple off her head — and the gloves were comically large, much larger with padding than standard boxing gloves. These two were not in the same weight class either. One was short and squat, and the other, the one with the tilted headpiece, was string bean tall.

Also, they weren’t the ones yelling; it was their audience, their Sisters as it were. Sister Beanpole pounded down with a right atop Sister Squat’s head, as if she was wielding a sledgehammer, and knocked her headpiece off. She then hit her again on top of the head.

“Do you think they do this religiously?” I asked, beating Elaine to the punch line.

Sister Squat turned her back and then spun around and hit Sister Beanpole with a roundhouse right to the body that knocked her into a trio of Sisters standing off to one side.

Sister Squat then raised both her stubby arms over her head in victory and Sister Beanpole walked slowly over and gave her opponent a congratulatory hug as some of the others took money from their pockets and paid those who were standing with their palms held open.

Arm in arm the fighters stood as their Sisters lined up two abreast behind them, and when the fidgeting and talking stopped, the older nun who had been seated nodded her head and the Sister fighters led the group back into the school.

© 2014 Paul Beckman

Paul Beckman used to be a Realtor, Air Traffic Controller, Saloon Keeper, Pin Setter, Numbers Runner & many other things. These days he’s a Zeyde who writes, travels, and takes pictures both above and beneath the water. He’s been published at Metazen, Connotation Press, Existere, Molotov Cocktail, Pure Slush, and The Brooklyner among others. You can find him at www.paulbeckmanstories.com

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