Making the
Breast of It
©2010 The Angst Guy (theangstguy@yahoo.com)
Daria and associated characters
are ©2010 MTV Networks
Feedback (good, bad, indifferent, just want to bother me,
whatever) is appreciated. Please write to: theangstguy@yahoo.com
Synopsis: A ficlet about an alternate-universe superheroine with
two big problems.
Author’s Notes: This story first appeared on PPMB in July 2005 in the
thread, “Scenes No Daria Fic Should Ever Have: What Have We Created?”
Acknowledgements: Thanks to WacoKid for the astounding Power Girl pic he located on the Internet. Just like Brittany! I loved
it!
*
Brittany Taylor, secretly known as the super-powered heroine Cheerleader,
sighed as she inspected herself in her bedroom mirror. No matter what she did,
the top of her superhero costume always billowed out and exposed her breasts
whenever she flew at speeds exceeding 30 mph. Normal blouses and bras could not
stand up to the punishment that a fast-flying, crime-fighting life could dish
out. Even turtlenecks swiftly stretched out of shape and had to be discarded.
It wasn’t fair that all the other superheroes got skintight costumes made from
unstable molecules that did whatever those heroes wanted their costumes to do.
Why was she always on the waiting
list for an unstable-molecule suit?
With a sigh, she
picked up the most recent letter she had gotten from Feisty Love’s Ultra-Feminine
Fabrics, informing her that her request for a new costume had been put on the
backburner due to a shortage of unstable molecules, and was about to throw it
away when she noticed the list of company board members at the bottom of the page.
All of the board members were Ruttheimers, every man in the family.
And
the president of the board was millionaire playboy Charles Ruttheimer III, also
known as Upchuck—her nemesis.
Brittany hissed so sharply that every canine in Lawndale ran and
hid under the nearest couch. She flung open a window and rocketed out at top
speed, heading for the company’s headquarters in Brest, France, heedless of
what the acceleration did to her outfit. She had to throw away her blouse when
she arrived, but that worked to her advantage.
The headline of the Lawndale
Sun-Herald on the following morning was lurid and bold: SUPERCOSTUME
EXECUTIVES FOUND SUFFOCATED IN THEIR OFFICES; FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED!
Brittany lowered the newspaper and smiled down at her oversized
cleavage, now nicely tucked into a classy blouse made from unstable molecules,
with a neckline that wouldn’t billow open even during a 100,000 mph atmospheric
reentry followed by a spinning corkscrew dive into the ocean, head down.
One should always be careful with one’s murder weapons,
she thought, giving herself a jiggle. It had been a terribly awful thing to do,
indeed, but on the good side the Ruttheimer men died happy.
Original: 08/05/05; modified
11/10/09, 05/10/10
FINIS