by T. Trolley

One night, I had a dream.

But maybe it wasn't a dream. The dream seemed so very real that I can
remember it to this day as though it actually did happen.

In fact, perhaps it wasn't a dream at all and it actually did happen. Perhaps
that dream world is reality and the era I am living in now is the real
fantasy -- a fantasy I will soon awake from and be once again in a place that
remains just as vivid to me now as many of my supposed real-life experiences etched
in my memory.

It was during the days of ancient Rome when gladiators fought to the death in
the arena. Men died by the scores for the entertainment of the masses and
this had happened for many years.

But as the audiences around the Roman empire grew became bored with the usual
arena fights between two men, the various provencial leaders came up with
different types of events to captivate the crowd.

First they shipped in exotic wild beasts from all over the world to fight
with the gladiators. That placated the crowds for awhile, but soon the wild
beasts became rarer and harder to obtain -- as well as expensive. Not to mention
the crowds soon became bored with that as well.

That's when the provincial leaders began to put women who had been captured
and and enslaved during battles involving the Roman army in the arena in fights
to the death with weapons. Of course, at first these were sloppy affairs. But
since many of these women were uncivilized and pretty much barbarians, the
weapons at times were removed and the audiences often watched two beautiful
women fight barehanded in a desperate attempt to render the other woman helpless
to the point that she would be declared the victor.

It was like watching the two gypsy women fighting in the James Bond movie "To
Russia With Love." In a way, it was pretty pitiful to watch two beautiful
women -- scared out of their wits and with no training whatsoever -- fighting
each other hand-to-hand for possibly their very lives. But the crowd seemed to
enjoy it -- especially the men.

When these types of fights first began, the provencial leaders often allowed
the winner to spare the defeated loser. But soon the crowd tired of this and
demanded a much more final decision.

The provencial leader soon realized this and, one fateful day as one
barbarian woman sat atop her obviously defeated foe, having her securely pinned to the
arena ground, the provencial governor surprised us all when, as the
victorious woman looked up for declaration, he gave her the death sign!

I'll never forget the first day the provencial governor called for a woman to
kill another bare handed. The woman who ended up on top looked like the
raven-haired Rita Hayworth while the woman on the bottom resembled the blonde
beauty Myrna Loy. When "Rita" looked up and got the death sign, she initially
looked surprised -- while the pinned blonde beneath her looked downright shocked!

But the shock didn't end there. The practice had always been to have the
"significant others" of the two participants close by to watch the event in a
small cage so the crowd could see their reaction to the successes or failures of
their mates during the fights. For this fight, the blonde woman's young husband
was in a cage to watch the fight and when the governor gave the death sign --
meaning his young wife was to die at the hands of her opponent -- he went
absolutely berserk!

I remember "Rita" then looking down with that same surprised look on her face
at "Myrna" -- who looked up at her in complete shock and began to beg,
screaming, "No! Noo!!"

But Rita knew the code of the warrioress. The governor ran the show and the
participants obeyed. Rita paused for only a second and then grabbed the blonde
around the throat with both hands and began to choke her!

The crowd began to cheer as Rita squeezed, tightening her grip around the
frightened Myrna who desperately tried to turn her head from the right to the
left and desperately tried to free her pinned arms!

I remember that look of sheer terror, fear and horror on the blonde's face as
she kicked her legs out as Rita leaned more and more into the strangle hold,
at times actually shaking the blonde in an effort to hasten death.

Few people realize how long it takes to choke somebody to death. It doesn't
happen like in the movies. It perhaps is the slowest, most agonizing and most
personal death someone can experience in a hand-to-hand deathfight. A big,
strong man actually needs at least four minutes to strangle a little girl to
death.

That being the case, think how long the much smaller and weaker Rita took to
finally snuff out Myrna! Myrna was kicking her beautiful legs out, writhing on
the ground, and squealing like a pig and cried her eyes out as death slowly
and agonizingly approached. And the scene dragged on for what I estimated to be
about eight minutes -- every second an experience in sheer torture for Myrna!
And for every moment, Myrna's husband was yelling and crying himself!

But Rita kept choking Myrna, squeezing her soft throat as tightly as she
could while shaking Myrna by the neck every once in a while, her eyes bugging out
with her face exhuming a savagery and ferociousness that couldn't be described
in words.

Finally, Myrna stopped struggling and went limp. Her eyes were still open
when Rita had finished choking the life completely over her. Rita kept choking
Myrna for another 15 seconds or so to make sure she was dead, then stood over
the dead blonde and took a deep breath, brushing the hair out of her eyes and
looking down at her dead foe as the vanquished woman's husband went wild over
sorrow for his slain wife.

The crowd enjoyed the entire scene immensely. From then on, the provencial
governor put on so many death matches involving women that he soon ran out of
slave women to fight.

Then he began to select women from the province to fight by lottery. We would
all gather in the middle of the largest town as each woman between the ages
of 20 and 45 wrote their names on a small piece of paper and placed it in large
containers by age. Women were then selected by age to compete in upcoming
death fights with each other in the arena.

Of course, this caused the families of the women chosen a great deal of
angst. Screams of, "Oh, no! No!" were heard from the women who would have to fight,
but their husbands were often surprisingly silent, not wanting anyone to
believe that their wife was not strong enough to emerge victorious in the ring in
a fair fight with another woman. It soon became a matter of pride and
confidence in his wife's feminine strength and natural fighting ability for the
husband and at the same time a matter of great consternation of fear for the wife
who knew nothing whatsoever about fighting and was now facing death at the hands
of a woman she may even know personally.

The women chosen entered the arena and fought when it was their time. Some
were fearful and died in dishonor, squealing and kicking and begging for mercy
as their opponent snuffed out their life. But some died bravely, fighting to
the very end and then dying gracefully at the hands of their female adversary --
in some cases dying with even more bravery and dignity than some of the male
gladiators.

But those women who did die at the hands of another woman in the province
often produced shock in their husbands. Some men knew their wives would probably
lose in the arena and their only hope was that the governor would have mercy
on their mates.

But others were so certain and confident their woman would win in a fair
fight with a woman in the arena and boost his own male ego that they actually
welcomed their selection, guaranteeing all those within earshot that their woman
was not only beautiful but strong and would make him "proud" when she did
fight. Imagine his surprise when his wife ended up on the wrong end of a chokehold
or ended up watching his wife get her skull broken when her opponent
repeatedly beat the back of his wife's head against the ground until she was dead in
front of a cheering crowd!

I have to admit that, even though they were savage and barbaric, I enjoyed
those fights. I relished watching the fear of those women in the arena, not
having the slightest idea of what they were doing, yet realizing the necessity of
defeating the other woman in front of her -- perhaps an acquaintance or a
friend -- so she could put this behind her and return to her family.

It was all great to watch -- until the day my wife was selected!

I remember us standing together in the middle of the town. Both of us were
there in the midst of the others, wondering which poor souls would be offered up
in the arena for the pleasure of the audience a week from now.

Two women each were chosen from the age groups of 20-24, 25-29, 30-34, 33-39,
and finally 40-45. My wife and I watched as the women were selected to fight
in the arena next week -- recognizing that some might only have seven more
days on earth. Cries of fright and horror were heard by the women as their names
were mentioned.

I remember my wife expressing sympathy for the woman selected. "That's so
sad," she said after one woman was selected. "She is such a sweet girl."

Then it came time for the final age group, age 40-45. My wife had just turned
40 a few months ago. She had dutifully written her name on the little paper
-- Jandi -- and placed it in the container with the others in that age group.
She looked around at some of the faces of her potential adversaries if her name
was chosen, but Jandi and I realized that there were many women in the
province of that age and the odds were greatly against her being chosen.

Before the names were chosen, a special fight was described for the two women
in that age group who would be selected.

There was an increase in bloodlust from recent crowds so a fight was set up
to at least tease at the possibility of that occurring in this fight. It was
not a hand-to-hand combat style fight -- at least not at first. But it was a
death fight that would involve both women dressed in short, white Roman slave
battle dresses to allow them freedom of movement, as well as please the crowd.
The two women would start on opposite sides of a 15-foot long brick wall in a
circle approximately 15 yards from the wall with their husbands at their side.
When a whistle sounded, the men stayed on the same side of the wall while their
wives ran to the other side, following a prescribed path where they were to
grab several spears from a designated area, then run to the same place their
opponent started the contest with the husband of the other contestant looking on
to make sure his wife's opponent obeyed the rules!

The two women would then begin to throw the spears over the wall in an effort
to slay their opponent! The winner would be the woman who killed the other
with a thrown spear. The loser would then have plaster paris poured on her dead
body by the winner and would be presented to the winner, entoumbed as a
lifetime "trophy" for the victor and her husband!

If both women failed to kill the other with a thrown spear, then they would
fight hand-to-hand in the arena to the death.

The description of the fight drew approval from the crowd as it promised to
be an entertaining and different spectacle. I turned and told my wife, "That
ought to be interesting to watch!" My wife, though, told me to be quiet -- the
names were about to be chosen and she wanted to make sure she wouldn't be
involved.

The town crier reached deeply into the container, pulled out a slip of paper
and then yelled, "The first woman selected to fight in this special event --
Jandi!"

At first, it didn't register. After all, there were thousands of names in
that container. There was no way my wife would be chosen.

But then I looked at my wife -- and then I knew. She looked up at the town
crier with a look of shock in her big blue eyes! She covered her face in her
hands and began to shake her head! "No! No! I can't believe it! There must be
some kind of mistake!" she kept saying! Then she broke down and sobbed, "I'm
gonna have to fight and I don't know how! I don't know how to fight!"

Then, before Jandi and I had recovered from the shock, the name of Jandi's
opponent was pulled out of the container! The crier shouted, "And Jandi's
opponent in this death fight -- Jana!"

A loud squeal of fright came out of the crowd -- and a gasp from my wife! We
looked to our right and saw Jana! She was trembling and partially covering her
face with her hands, tears dripping down her face as she looked at her
husband Pat in horror!

Jandi and I both knew Jana! She was an actress in the local minstrel troupe
and had met her on several occasions. In fact, she looked like the spitting
image of the actress Jane Curtin!

We didn't know her well. She was just a casual acquaintance. But little did
we know that my wife's next meeting with her would probably be fatal to one of
them!

My wife was bigger and taller than Jana as well as younger, but Jana was five
years older and in much better condition. Despite the fact that Jana was in
better shape than my wife, I remember not being worried about my wife's fate
because I knew my wife was bigger and probably stronger than Jana and would kill
her if it came down to hand-to-hand combat -- something I was certain would
happen since I didn't believe either woman would kill the other in the initial
spear-throwing contest.

Jandi had just one week before her fight against Jana. At first, my wife was
just scared out of her mind. She kept sobbing, "I'm liable to die! Jana may
kill me! What am I going to do? I don't know how to fight!"

I immediately told her that Jana didn't know how to fight either but knew her
husband, Pat, would try to teach her skills that would enable her to do just
that. Therefore, we had to make sure that she would be prepared to fight Jana
to the bitter end -- hopefully Jana's and not Jandi's!

"Jandi, I'm honestly not worried about you fighting Jana," I told her. "I
have complete and utter confidence that you're better and stronger than she is
and will defeat her. But we have to make sure of that and do some preparation. I
don't want you to die at the hands of a smaller woman in embarrassment and
humiliation and then end up as a statue in her living room!"

So we worked the entire seven days on teaching her how to throw a spear. I
also taught her several holds that she could use if it came down to fighting
Jana in a hand-to-hand combat situation. Since Jandi was bigger and stronger than
Jana -- at least in my opinion -- I taught her a special hold I called the
combination bearhug/body scissors that could crush Jana's body two ways at one
time and render her helpless.

We practiced and practiced that hold every night in bed -- which of course
led each time to what married people do.

I was confident of Jandi's ability to kill Jana and slowly passed that
confidence on to Jandi. But Pat, Jana's husband, one day frightened the living heck
out of my wife. As my wife and I sat in the marketplace a few days before the
big fight, he suddenly took a seat near us.

He said, "Jandi, I just want you to know that in a few days, you will be a
permanent guest in our home! Jana and I already have a place for you set up in
our living room and we intend to proudly display you to everybody who comes to
our home for the rest of our lives when my Jana proves she is more woman than
you and kills you with her bare hands in front of the entire province!"

My wife began to tremble slightly and grabbed my hand for solace. I quickly
responded, "My wife has a few surprises for your wife but we'll wait to reveal
them in the arena!"

I led my wife back home and put her to bed, assuring her that she would
emerge triumphant if she didn't allow either Jana or her husband intimidate her.

I ran into Pat the night before the fight in a restaurant and the patrons as
well as the owner allowed us to debate each other regarding the merits of our
wives who were to meet in the arena in this death fight. Those who listened
and got their appetites whetted in preparation for the huge fight would then
vote for which woman they believed would kill the other in the fight!

Pat began to chide me again, saying, "How are you going to feel when Jana
kills your Jandi with her bare hands in front of the entire province, proving she
is stronger than your wife, and then displays her in our house as a trophy in
memory of her killing your wife in a fair fight? How are you going to feel
knowing that my wife turned your wife into just another display in our house
that we show off with glee to everyone who comes in and tell them how my wife
proved she was better than your wife by killing her with her bare hands? I can
just see my wife now, her fingers wrapped tightly around your wife's throat and
choking the life out of her as your wife writhes on the ground of the arena,
her legs kicking out and thrashing in her death throes as she begs my wife not
to kill her!"

I said, "Pat, you and I both know that my Jandi is bigger and stronger than
your wife. You know there's no way your wife will be able to stand against
mine. I am proud of my wife and I know that she will kill yours. I know you don't
want to hear that, but you know my Jandi is too much for your wife to handle."

Pat responded, "Your wife may be bigger, but my wife is stronger. She is also
quicker and faster and in better shape. You'd better go home and kiss your
wife and hug her close to you because the last hug your wife may experience
could be in the arena when my wife wraps her arms around your Jandi and squeezes
her until your wife's rib cage collapses and Jana snaps your wife's back!"

The patrons then cast their votes and Jandi was the overwhelming choice of 30
of the 42 votes cast!

The day of the fight arrived. By now, both Jandi and I were confident she
would beat Jana. Jandi had made me proud, realizing worrying about the fight did
nothing but keep her from learning how she could kill Jana. So Jandi took
quickly to her training and absorbed everything I taught her. But still, I knew
Jandi was very nervous and even I remember being a bit apprehensive, yet
excited, when I stood with my wife in that target area as my wife stood in the
circle, looking real sexy in that Roman slave dress as she crouched down with her
hands on the knees of those pretty legs of hers, rocking her body back and forth
as she prepared to race to the other side and get in position to throw spears
at her opponent! I knew the odds were against either woman killing each other
in this kind of contest, but still both my wife and I were nervous because
there was still a remote possibility that my wife could end up on the wrong side
of a spear by the end of this contest!

As we awaited the signal for the fight to begin, I quickly grabbed my wife,
looked in her big blue eyes and said, "Go and make me proud -- either in defeat
or victory. I fully expect that you will defeat Jana. But if for some reason
Jana does something and you realize that she is about to kill you and you
can't escape, die like the womanly warrioress you are and make me proud. If she
kills you, let her kill you with your back straight and your eyes straight
ahead, without flinching. Let the whole world remember you as the brave woman you
are who died with pride and dignity!"

I quickly grabbed her by her shoulders and gave her a huge kiss. I watched as
her blue eyes slowly closed and her arms slowly circled around my head,
holding me close as she realized this might be the last time she ever held me!

We broke our embrace and stared lovingly at each other one more time. She
looked at me and whispered, "No matter what happens, always remember how much I
love you!" She then crouched down and rocked her body back and forth, getting
ready to race around the brick wall as soon she heard the signal!

Suddenly the whistle blew and my wife took off as fast as she could,
following the designed pathway around the wall to my left as the crowd cheered! As my
wife disappeared to my left, I saw Jana appear to my right!

She followed the designated path for awhile, but then suddenly took a
shortcut to grab her spears and ran straight for the target area where I stood!

Of course, this would give Jana a few precious seconds of an advantage that
could prove fatal to my wife! I began to protest loudly to Jana that she was
breaking the rules.

Jana then looked at me downright hatefully and screamed, "Anything goes when
you're fighting for your life! You just don't want me to kill that wife of
yours! Well, too bad! I'm going to kill her and she's going to end up in my
living room! Or maybe outside on the patio where the pigeons can defecate all over
her for eternity!"

Jana then reached back to throw a spear in her hand and looked toward the
wall to throw it! Just then, a spear from the other side of the wall hit her
right between the eyes and went right through her head!

I remember the look of surprise and shock on Jana's face right after the
spear hit her head! She fell back with that same look on her face but the spear
she had in her hand remained there, caught up in Jana's death grasp!

Jana was dead before she ever hit the ground!

I let out a whoop of joy and yelled, "You got her, Jandi! You did it!" In a
matter of seconds I saw Jandi running towards me, jumping up and down in joy as
she saw Jana lying at my feet with the spear through her head like a
shishkabob and imbedded into the ground!

As we celebrated, I saw Jana's husband peer around the wall and then just
walk away, shaken.

I couldn't believe it! My wife had killed Jana with just one spear! I was
shocked, but not nearly as shocked as Jana was as the look of utter astonishment
remained etched on her face, even in death as the spear was sunken completely
through her brain and skull!

Jana lay flat on her back with that look on her face and the spear jutting
out of her head! Quickly someone brought over a large container filled with the
plaster paris and poured it all over the dead woman, entombing Jana and giving
us a prized possession that we would cherish for the rest of our lives and
see as a memorial to my wife's triumph when she faced the ultimate test of death
where either she or her female opponent would die at one or the other's hand
and she was able to overcome fear and slay Jana!