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Chapter 9: Ladies Night
 By Jim Caple |
Previously at 24 College Avenue: Former housemate and State College point guard Jill Thomas accepted dual citizenship from the Prince of Mubai to play for the country’s national team in its attempt to medal in the Olympics. Unfortunately, while she, fellow guard Chardonnay Knight and center Camila Brabrickovich are on a road trip, the country’s mullahs reassert religious authority in the country and restore fundamentalist law.. . .
Predictably, Jill’s rebellious comments to the American Public Radio reporter about women and girls not being allowed to attend the national team’s games did not go over well with Mubai’s mullahs. The religious figures had not reasserted their authority so that an arrogant and spoiled American woman could criticize their laws and beliefs. They knew how rudely men could behave at a basketball game, the foul words they so often directed at the referees (indeed, several of the mullahs had used those same word themselves when the @$%&-ing refs were so blind they called a blocking foul against their favorite team instead of a charge). And they felt it was no environment for a woman to be exposed.
If the mullahs had their way, Jill would have been deported from Mubai and consider herself lucky she was able to escape more physical and traditional punishment for her disturbing words. A lash to the back had a way of quieting down a difficult woman.
Still, the American player had a powerful ally with the Prince and the mullahs knew that the country’s balance of power was still too tenuous to push too hard. The Prince had convinced them that to punish Jill during the East Asian/Middle East Olympic qualifying tournament Mubai was hosting would be a public relations disaster for the country. They reluctantly agreed to take no further action but warned the Prince that he must make it absolutely clear that there would be no further outbursts.
The Prince was depressed by the whole turn of events. He wanted desperately to sweep his country into the modern world of the west. He was the one who introduced English as an official second language and made education mandatory through high school for both sexes. He knew Mubai was running out of oil and that tourism was a crucial part of its economy. He envisioned generating that tourism through sports and the basketball qualifying tournament was merely a step toward his ultimate goal of hosting the Olympics, whether it be the summer or winter games (“Holding the Winter Olympics in Mubai would merely be a question of the proper air conditioning,’’ he told Jill one night). He feared that the mullahs were endangering all that with their recent actions.
And yet he also saw their side. Deep down he was a little reluctant to join a materialistic society where citizens worshipped the almighty dollar (or more recently, the Euro), where it was considered your patriotic duty to spend as much money as possible on Christmas presents and where the weekend box office of the latest violent movie was considered legitimate news. He also resented that after all he had provided Jill – not the least of which was a six-figure salary and free lodging – she couldn’t keep her mouth shut until after the team had secured an Olympic spot and the media had departed.
“Are all the women in your country so thick-headed?’’ the Prince told Jill in his private luxury suite after her outburst. “Have I not assured you many times that this situation with the mullahs is only temporary? That this is a normal part of the circle of life in my country and that the mullahs always overstep their moral authority and fall out of favor again? Sometimes I wonder if perhaps they are not correct about you.’’
Jill promised to behave herself and the Prince warned her that she better, then dismissed her with an impatient wave of his hand. “Women,’’ he sighed as he ran a finger around the bottom of his plate of seared elephant steak, then licked it clean. “Sometimes I wonder whether it is such a good thing to have a half-dozen wives.’’
While Jill fully intended to follow through with her promise to behave herself – she realized how upset the Prince was and the increasing pressure he was feeling from the mullahs -- her radio interview had nonetheless empowered a small but passionate group of female fans to show their support by attending the games. They cut their hair or hid it under baseball caps, dressed in men’s clothing and tried to sneak into the arena for Mubai’s semi-final game. Many were stopped by security guards on their way into the game and arrested but many more made it inside for Mubai’s victory.
One 13-year-old girl, her hair under a cap, her face disguised by face-paint and her budding breasts hidden underneath an over-sized Mubai soccer team jersey, waved a team photo and pen at Jill when the team left the court after the game. Jill grabbed the photo and pen. “What’s your name?’’ she asked the girl. “Who do I make this out to?’’
The girl whispered a name but too softly for Jill to catch.
“What was that?’’ Jill asked, leaning her ear toward the girl. “I couldn’t hear you.’’
“Samina,’’ the girl said into her ear.
Jill pulled back in surprise. She hadn’t learned much of the language during her stay in Mubai but she did know that Samina was a girl’s name. She examined the girl more closely and smiled. It was only at this moment that Jill realized her words had inspired girls and women to sneak into the game. Impressed by the girl’s courage to risk arrest by attending the game and to further risk discovery by asking for an autograph, Jill carefully signed the photo: “Thank you for coming! You are awesome! You can do anything with your life!’’ Then she winked at the girl and handed it back. The resulting smile on the girl’s face felt better than the victory and Jill felt like she could have floated to the locker room.
The religious police were prepared for the final game. They announced the night before that any female caught at the game would be arrested and subject to lashing. As if the threat of that punishment was not enough to discourage everyone, several dozen additional officers were assigned to check each fan entering the arena before the game and also scan the crowd during the game for any females who avoided detection earlier. Jill watched with growing anger and horror as the officers periodically pulled fans from the stands, their voices wailing in both protest and fear.
“I can’t believe we’re playing to represent this regime in the Olympics,’’ Jill said to Chardonnay and Camila during a timeout with Mubai leading by 10. “Wearing these ridiculous uniforms was bad enough but what their police are doing to those poor girls in the stands? It makes me feel so dirty I need to be sand-blasted.’’
“Don’t give then any ideas, girl,’’ Chardonnay said. “Just stay cool. We’ll win this game and then if things don’t change like the Prince says, we’ll get the hell out of this place.’’
Chardonnay was right, Jill decided. Just get this damn game over first. She blocked out the situation in the stands and focused on the game, scoring two more buckets in the closing minutes to secure Mubai’s 72-59 victory. And when the buzzer sounded, she ripped away the thin veil of the “I Dream of Jeanie’’-style uniform she hated so much and screamed with relief and excitement.
“We won!’’ she shouted at Chardonnay. “We showed those fundamentalist SOBs that women can play and compete and win!’’
Jill and Chardonnay hugged and then felt Camila’s strong arms around them as the powerful center squeezed the two players together and lifted them off the court. “We are almost in China now!’’ Camila yelled.
Well, almost. The winner of this tournament still had to compete against the winner of the North African/Western Middle East tourney for the final Olympic berth. But they still were so caught up in the moment – imagine, one win from the Olympics! – that the players momentarily forgot their contempt for the mullahs and thought only of what they had just achieved.
Or at least they did until Jill saw Samina out of the corner of her eye. Her baseball cap had come off during the victory celebration and her long hair did not escape the note of two police officers They forced their way through the crowd and grabbed Samina, then began to pull her out of the crowd.
Jill reacted instinctively. She raced from the court, shoved one officer into the stands, grabbed the other officer by his belt loop and tossed him to the court. “Keep your @#&% hands off her!’ she shouted, glancing menacingly at one then the other.
The second officer tried to pick himself up from the court but felt the strong hands of Camila forcing him down again. “Do not make me hurt you,’’ she said firmly. The other officer was pushing his way out of the stands when he saw Chardonnay standing in his way, shaking her head. “Uh, uh,’’ she said, waggling a finger.
As both officers considered their options, Jill swooped Samina up in her arms. “Are you all right, honey?’’ she asked. “Did those men hurt you?’’ Still in shock, the girl said nothing for a minute than burst into tears.
Jill cradled the crying girl in her arms and prepared to leave the court. She didn’t even make it past the baseline before a squad of police officers stopped her, their batons drawn and at the ready.
“Halt! You have gone far enough!’’ one of the officers shouted. “Leave the girl and come with us. You are under arrest for encouraging lewd behavior, inciting a riot and striking an officer and for . . . and for . . .’’ He sputtered, trying to name the final crime through his rage. “And for displaying your face in public!’’
He grabbed Jill roughly by the wrist and pulled her up close, pushing his face so close to hers that she could smell the schwarma lunch he had eaten. “And you will find we are not so lenient here as in your homeland, Miss America,’’ he hissed.
# # #
The worried housemates at 24 College Avenue sat around the living room, frantically flipping the channels repeatedly for further news about their friend, Jill. They stopped on the American News Network the 24-hour news channel owned by the jingoistic Redmond media family that also owned the State College Journal-American where Steve was an intern. The “Wolfman Stewart Midnight News Hour’’ was just beginning.
EMCEE: Live from our nation’s capital, it’s the “Wolfman Stewart Midnight News Hour!’’ With Joseph Astoria and the Star-Spangled Band, the Wolfman Stewart Anchorette Dance Chorus, Doppler the Weather Chimp and special guest news analyst Christina Aguilera. And now, here’s the host of our show and the Loudest Man in Broadcast News, Mr. Red, White and Blue himself -- Wollllllllffffff-Mannnn STEWWWWARRRRTTTTTT!!!!!
[The Wolfman strode to his anchor desk amid the dizzying effects of a fog machine, strobe lights, a studio audience, the Star-Spangled band playing “The Battle Hymn of the Republic’’ and the long-legged Anchorettes dancing across the stage in navy blue blazers that barely covered their rears. The Wolfman greeted his audience with a broad smile, threw back his head and let loose with a blood-curdling howl.]
WOLFMAN: “OWWWWOOOOLLLLLL!!! Welcome to another edition of the Wolfman Stewart Midnight News Hour. We’ve got a great show for you tonight – the Anchorettes will perform their newest dance during our international news roundup -- and we begin with breaking news in the Flagrant Foul story that has riveted the nation the past few weeks. Jill Thomas, the American basketball player who rushed to the defense of a young girl during an Olympic qualifying tournament in Mubai, has been found guilty by a religious tribunal of inciting a riot and assaulting police officers. She has been sentenced to 100 lashes in the public square, a cruel and potentially fatal punishment. Mubai is one of America’s staunchest allies in the Middle East but are we going to stand for this treatment of an American? To find out, let’s go to our White House correspondent, Dupont Sirkal. Is the President as outraged about this as I am, Dupont?’’
[The housemates watched their TV screen fill with an image of a smiling Dupont standing in front of the White House.]
DUPONT: “I don’t think anyone can get that outraged, Wolfman.’’ [He and Wolfman laughed.] ‘’But the President is taking this very seriously. He skipped his afternoon spinning class and may not attend this weekend’s big game, the Aluminum Bowl, at his alma mater, State College. He also has dispatched the Secretary of State and the Vice-President to Mubai to negotiate directly with the government or seize their oil fields, whichever seems more dramatic to voters.’’
[The screen cut back to the Wolfman who had seated himself behind his desk. The backdrop showed his face added to Mount Rushmore.]
WOLFMAN: “How is all this playing on the campaign trail? For the answer to that, we turn to our senior political analyst Virginia Arlington. What empty promises and threats do the candidates have to offer voters, Virginia?’’
[The TV screen showed Arlington standing in front of a background that read: “WE DECIDE 2008!’’]
ARLINGTON: “Wolfman, this has the potential to become a major wedge issue on the campaign trail. During last night’s Republican debate, several candidates said they would respond to Mubai’s outrageous action in the strongest possible manner by invading a neighboring nation and dispatching $100 billion no-bid contracts to America’s largest corporations. The Democratic candidates, meanwhile, say they would send Mubai officials a strongly worded -- though unsigned letter – asking them to please reconsider.’’
WOLFMAN: “For local reaction, we go to Harold Tribune, who is on campus at State College. Tell me, Harold, are those liberal students concerned that a foreign government may put an alumnus to the lash, or are they too busy listening to their MyPods and burning the American flag?’’
[The housemates’ eyes widened as the screen cut to Tribune standing in the Quad on the State College campus. They searched the students passing in the background to see if they recognized anyone.]
TRIBUNE: “Wolfman, the students here ARE very concerned. The student body president has requested that classes be cancelled Friday in protest while athletic director Hudson Bay says the school will hold a moment of silence for Jill Thomas during one of the mandatory TV timeouts at this Saturday’s game.’’
[“No classes?’’ Josh said in the living room. “Cool. I mean, I’m really worried about Jill and all, but all the stress has left me way behind on a paper due that day.’’
[“Shut up, Josh,’ Nicollette said. “Just listen.’’]
WOLFMAN: “Has Mubai crossed the line with this sentence or does Jill Thomas have it coming for traveling outside the United States when our Terror Alert is at Double-Secret Violet? Let’s see what our commentators think in The Cage. On the far right, we have Eugene Corvallis, and from the other right, we have. Ann Arbor.’’
[Corvallis and Arbor stood in opposite corners of a Texas Cage and glared at each other. Arbor was dressed in her signature tight black cocktail dress.]
ARBOR: “Once again, Wolfman, this is a clear, black and white case with no shades of gray. Why is an American citizen playing for the Mubai national team, anyway? If our basketball teams aren’t good enough for Ms. Thomas, if she has a problem with the Stars and Stripes, I say, tough luck and crack that whip.’’
CORVALLIS: “Once again, Ann, you fail to appreciate the subtleties and nuances of a complicated and volatile political situation. Ms. Thomas may be a misguided traitor but she is also an American citizen. As such, I cannot stomach any nasty foreigners tearing into her flesh with a whip. Better to send in troops to rescue her and bring her back to the U.S. where we can give her the 100 lashes instead. Liberals would call this barbaric but I say we can learn something from Mubai. The whip is an effective deterrent to crime and liberals should embrace it because it’s green. Unlike the electric chair, whipping a felon into submission teaches a lesson without leaving so much as a carbon footprint.’’
ARBOR: “You’re wrong, @#&%!’’
CORVALLIS: “Am not, you @#&%!’’
ARBOR: “@#&%!@#&%!@#&%!@#&%!’’
CORVALLIS: “Oh yeah? @#&%!@#&%!@#&%!@#&%!’’
[Arbor kicked Corvallis, who responded by wrestling her to the ground. The Wolfman interrupted just as Arbor cracked a chair over Corvallis’s back.]
WOLFMAN: “I hate to interrupt your debate but we have some dramatic news regarding Jill Thomas from our correspondent in Mubai, Paris Marriott. Paris, it sounds like there are a lot of people screaming and yelling in the background --can you tell us what’s going on?’’
[The housemates saw a choppy satellite image of Marriott coughing amid tear gas.]
MARRIOTT: Wolfman, I must say, I’ve never seen anything like this --
[There was the sound of an explosion, a sudden cry and then the screen went black.]
WOLFMAN: “Paris? Can you hear me? Are you all right? Paris? Paris?’’
[The Wolfman stared into the screen. There was a brief flash of deep concern on his face before he broke into his familiar, reassuring grimace.]
WOLFMAN: “Probably just some technical difficulties with our satellite link. While our engineers work on that, let’s take a look at the weather with Doppler the Weather Chimp . . .’’
When the chimpanzee appeared in front of a red, white and blue weather map, Nicollette changed channels, hoping another network might have more details. But none did, leaving the worried housemates to wonder what was happening with Jill.
Next: House of Pain
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