America: 50☆Stars (Vol. 2)

Episode 40: I was Surrounded by Heroines

'Oh no! I'm going to be late for the States Annual Meeting!' Oregon sprinted down the hall while brushing her hair.

This situation could've been prevented if she charged her phone last night. If she did, the alarm set for this morning would've gone off. Instead, she woke up to the sun shining on her face, her blurry eyes reading 8:33 a.m. on the digital clock atop the nightstand. She only had enough time to get dressed in business attire. Staying in her hotel room any longer meant a greater risk of getting scolded by D.C. in front of the entire room. That would be embarrassing!

"Hopefully, I'm not too late," she panted as she pushed open the doors, hit by a bright white light that made her close her eyes for a few seconds.

"Hey! You! You're late!" yelled a posh female voice.

She immediately bowed her head, saying, "Sorry! I forgot to charge my phone."

"No excuses! Stupid commoner, you should be ashamed for wasting everyone's time!"

"Commoner?" Oregon looked up at a young woman whose eyes matched the color of money with a shade of snobbery. "Who are you?" She wasn't familiar with her, yet she resembled a certain character from New England.

She scoffed, "Don't try to fake amnesia. You're still in trouble for being late."

"But—"

"Give the poor girl a break. No need to bark at her for being a tad late," said a high-pitched female voice with an Italian accent.

Once again, Oregon was caught in confusion, questioning another newcomer's identity. The young woman striding toward them looked like she stepped out of a nightclub after being filmed for an MTV series. No kidding. She wore a shimmering strapless dress that didn't fit today's formal occasion. She smelled like a hangover mixed with a morning cigarette and a bunch of sweet smells—a nauseous blend of perfume, hair spray, and tanning spray. Oregon had to back away a couple of feet to gulp in some fresh air. If she didn't, she would've suffocated to death.

"You!" The posh woman poked the newcomer's busty chest. "Not only are you late, but you also dared to show up looking like a whore! Do you even have a shred of decency?"

"Fuck off, bitch!" The busty woman slapped her hand away. "Be grateful I showed up. Otherwise, I wouldn't have bothered dealing with your clam-chowing cunt."

She gasped, "Take that back!"

"Why should I?"

The women exchanged glares.

"Hey! Do I have to break up another fight?" A bubblegum-chewing tomboy wearing an unbuttoned Yankees jersey stepped between them, wielding a baseball bat that rested on her shoulder. "You fucking bitches are wasting my time with your pointless bickering. If I miss the Yankees game, I'm gonna break both your kneecaps."

The busty woman snickered, "Go ahead, Yorkie. Break a leg. I like to see you try."

"Okay! You asked for it!" The Yankee tomboy swung her bat at the busty woman but missed.

"Ha! Strike one!"

"Shut up, skank!"

"Quit it, you two!" The posh woman pulled out a wand from her suit jacket. "Any more buffoonery, I'll turn you into turkeys!" Her warnings did nothing to diminish the violence.

"Massachusetts...? New Jersey...? New York...?" Oregon watched helplessly, unsure how to feel about the situation she stumbled upon. "WHAT IS GOING ON?!"

☆☆☆☆☆

"Do you like jazz?" asked a woman resembling Illinois as she started playing her saxophone.