Charlize Theron's "Ten Rounds of Hell" (Part Two) by jermaine
INTERMISSION Tera knocked Charlize down the second time at 9:57 PM Eastern Time and events of the ensuing 18 hours would be a shining example of what is best and worst about this great country of ours.... Writers for Leno, Conan O'Brien and Letterman tore up that evening's monologues at 10 PM and by 10:30, Tera Patrick-Charlize Theron jokes were falling like an avalanche on the American public from every channel on the spectrum. Howard Stern mortgaged his home and all his assets to get the cash needed to get Tera on his show wearing the previous evening's boxing gear. Her asking price, a tidy seven figures, was agreed to without negotiation. John Stewart devoted an entire 'Daily Show' to coverage of the Theron gauntlet - and he too secured a five minute interview with the thong bikini clad Ms. Patrick.

'TERA RULES THE RING' T-shirts appeared overnight in hundreds of Spencer Gifts locations, all bearing a caricatured Theron with frizzy hair, black eyes and missing two front teeth.

Cable news networks showed both knockdowns with mind-numbing regularity throughout the morning, their coverage being interrupted only by thirty-second promos from E! touting tonight's five round finale. Brooke Burke's smirking face at the end of each commercial made hers the most recognized face in America.

Elsewhere, meaning the palatial bedroom of Bob the Producer, Summer Altice's luscious lips surrounded his firm throbbing cock while his phones rang constantly and his message box filled to overflowing with headhunters messages and descriptions of job offers he couldn't have imagined even a week before - but which now seemed totally inadequate. Summer hoped that her inspirational performance in the sack could compensate for her rather disappointing showing in the ring…and in Bob's humble opinion, Summer had recovered rather nicely, thank you very much. Her future was secure - in his bedroom at least - and she would become the eye candy hanging on his right arm.

But across town, Aisha Tyler struggled with frustration and pessimism, doing her best to speculate as to what new foes her Charlize would face and how to best them. The score by rounds presently stood at an ominous 2-2-1 and Aisha knew Charlize needed to win three more rounds to capture the crown; save her from tragic humiliation and pave the way for her own personal showdown with Brooke Burke - an event she anticipated with the same passion as a bride on her honeymoon.

And as the world went ga-ga over the events of last night and anticipated eagerly the match-ups to come, Charlize slept like a baby without anxiety, in a deep, dreamless slumber - a gift she'd perfected as a film actress. Yesterday, no matter how tiring or frustrating or exciting it had been, was, in the final analysis, yesterday! She had developed over time the discipline to clear her mind each night, empty out every ounce of emotional content, and then fall deeply asleep, complete oblivious to anything or anyone. When she awoke at 1 PM, not every ache and pain was gone, but surprising, many of them were. She took a look at her battered face in the mirror, smiled and muttered..."No close-ups today, I'm afraid!"Then, from habit, she began to shuffle her feet and shadow box a bit with the woman in the mirror. She felt far better than she had any right to feel after the thrashing she'd taken but with the help of three Advils and a tall orange juice, she was ready to go downstairs to join Aisha to discuss strategy.

Downtown, Brooke Burke was already hard at work plotting her destruction. In Brooke's mind, given how the first five rounds had gone, Charlize's defeat was no longer a matter of IF, but only WHEN, HOW and BY WHOM! She studied her list of fighters then looked at the mirror, her brown eyes sparkling diabolically as her pearly whites flashed a winner's grin.

Brooke, thought proudly, "Better fold 'em, Tyler. I'm holdin' FIVE ACES here!" She took her cell phone from her purse and called the fighter who she had planned to face Theron in Round Six.

"Heidi?....Well hello Ms. Klum! And how is my second favorite swimsuit model doing this lovely afternoon? Ready to let Ms. Theron in on 'Victoria's Secret'? You know...that you scratch like a wildcat and kick like a mule? That bimbo has no idea what pain really is!"

"Oh, I am ready to make her understand pain in a most personal way," Heidi Klum replied with a chill in her voice that made Brooke's nipples hard just listening to it. "Fraulein Charlize, I pity you!"

The stage was set!! Brooke Burke's daydreaming mind had already began playing word games. KLUM.....DOOM.....TOMB. Her girlish giggle camouflaged the wicked, violent thoughts within.
********
ROUND SIX: HEIDI KLUM

"Sad. Tawdry. Very unfortunate....," Catherine Zeta-Jones declared to the microphone-wielding Brooke Burke outside the Staples Center. "It's terribly surprising that an actress of Charlize's stature would agree to be at the center of such an unseemly spectacle."

A beaming Michael Douglas, his arm wrapped tightly around his bejeweled, Valentino attired wife chimed in, "I couldn't agree more with Cath. I think I speak for most of the best people in Hollywood when I say the sooner we get this embarrassing episode behind us, the better."

"Then, why, exactly....," Brooke asked with a sly grin. "Did you two bother to appear tonight and dignify these proceedings?"

"With fame comes responsibility, I'm afraid, Ms. Burke," explained Zeta-Jones; her every syllable laden with condescension. "And every responsible member of the Hollywood family will be here tonight as a witness to this sad incident. Like it or not, we are family."

Brooke, of course, was desperately trying to stymie a belly laugh. Tawdry...? Sad...? Unfortunate...? Screw that! This was shaping up to be the biggest event in TV history, and the brain trust at the NFL were looking on in awe as their Super Bowl ratings were stomped in the mud by the Theron Gauntlet II.

Night Two featured a new ringside announcer and a new referee. The slutty, obnoxious Traci Bingham was gone, and the announcer's mike entrusted to the equally slutty, equally obnoxious and older Morgan Fairchild. There was considerable debate within the arriving crowd as to which announcer possessed the least natural boob job. Morgan's were certainly well exposed and easily evaluated.

The capable, fair-minded Leah Remini, whose only crime had been that she was both fair and capable, was forced to surrender the striped shirt; handing it over to that slimy limey, Elizabeth Hurley - who had a long history with Charlize!. It was an outrageous choice; never mind Hurley's general incompetence....she was a very conspicuous Theron envier and hater, with a long track record as a vicious gossip and with several altercations with Theron in her checkered history. Like many others, Aisha understood Hurley had been chosen to tilt the balance against Charlize. Sometime, some way, Aisha knew, Hurley would impose her prejudicial will on the contest at a critical juncture. Brooke Burke smirked as she took silent delight at the steam venting from Aisha's ears.

Douglas and Zeta-Jones assumed their seats in a small glass enclosed private booth in clear view of the mere peons around them. Their manner and expressions suggested an identity as self-anointed Roman Emperor and Empress, diffidently witnessing the clashes of Gladiatrixes. Next to Catherine was a special seat on honor for an invited guest, and as the house lights dimmed, that seat was assumed by the singer Seal, the fiancee of Heidi Klum.

Morgan Fairchild entered the ring, taking her time to strike a pose that exposed her still elegant fishnet clad thigh through the slit in her sequined gown.

"She made you drool all over your Sports Illustrated, and she looked like a million bucks in the Million Dollar Bra. The face of an Angel and a body made for Sin. Simply, the best supermodel in the world. Take it from a blonde who knows...there's nothing in this world as sexy as a blonde on blonde catfight. Fasten your seat belts ladies and gentlemen. Ms. Theron, welcome the agent of your doom, she's 5'11" 125 pounds of muscle in a 35-24-34 frame, let's hear it for 31 year old….Fraulein….HEIDI KLUM!"

Heidi began her procession in darkness but was soon captured by three spotlights. As the lights captured her, jaws dropped in every corner of the arena...including Charlize and Aisha's. There was a cold, sinister and unmistakably powerful aura surrounding the stalking supermodel. This was NOT the sweet smiling SI covergirl everyone had come expecting to see, it looked more like a platinum blonde cyborg coming their way.

Karen McDougal, who had just arrived ringside with her boy-toy Irish, was none too pleased to see his cock turn to granite as Heidi sashayed past his seat. Zeta-Jones grabbed Seal's hand as confirmation that his lady had in fact stolen the show dressed in a gladiatrix' metal skirt with a rough leather halter top. Her bulging left bicep was circled by a leather band that matched her crocodile skin boxing gloves - a gift from her African born fiancee. As she glared menacingly at Charlize, Aisha paused a moment to regret some of the sarcastic remarks she'd made to the press an hour earlier....

"Brooke Burke is a creature (and I use the word precisely) of habit. Just look at her choice in fighters. Five rounds, five brunettes. C'mon, Brookie, can't you find a blonde or redhead SOMEwhere? Jeez-Louise..." She giggled sarcastically, adding, "And now that we've faced Teri, Tia and Tera, does that mean we can expect Tara Reid or Tori Spelling tonight? I sure as Hell hope so...."

TOO LATE Aisha's sixth sense told her just as the bell rang that THIS was not the blonde she wanted Charlize facing. And soon enough, the accuracy of her intuition was confirmed. What neither Charlize nor Aisha knew was that Seal had arranged for his beloved to spend the last six weeks with his personal friend, former world heavyweight champ Lennox Lewis. Under his tutelage, Heidi had become a more than capable ring technician, and one who could hit with power using either hand! Now, before a startled crowd, Heidi began her clinic on the sweet science that was to leave poor Charlize dazed and confused.

As Charlize made her way toward the center of the ring, she tasted a crisply delivered mouthful of crocodile skin. Before she could react, Heidi snapped a left-right combination that started a stream of saliva running from Charlize's lips. Moving to her left with masterful footwork, Heidi landed a quick series of jabs to the nose that left an ugly, dangling trail of blood-laced mucus hanging from both of Theron's nostrils.

"Wake up, Char! Get in the game!" Aisha Tyler exhorted, surprised and miffed by her fighter's sluggish start while Heidi continued to display her Lennox Lewis trained prowess as her footwork and hand speed left Charlize pawing forlornly at air and absorbing blow after stinging blow.

"Poor Char's become your Heidi's personal bobble-head doll!" Zeta-Jones chortled, as she touched wine glasses with the justifiably proud Seal.

But Charlize had two saving graces; first, her incredible endurance and will to survive, and second - although Heidi had quickly mastered the nuances of the pugilistic arts - she still lacked the dynamite in the hands commonly known as the knockout punch. She would have no problem beating a less mobile Theron to a pulp, but she couldn't put her down on the canvas to stay! Although it was unclear whether Heidi could take a punch herself, the point was moot since Charlize had shown absolutely no ability of reaching her as, like a malevolent gazelle, Klum danced around the ring as she wished, flicking her fists at lighting speed, scorching Charlize's face and abdomen with the stinging kisses of her crocodile hide.

Charlize's alabaster skin wore the marks of literally dozens of pinkish-red splotches and her eyes - which had returned almost to normal after a day of rest - quickly began to swell and darken as the avalanche of jabs accumulated. Aisha was reduced to watching the seconds tick away, hopeful that her fighter had learned her lesson. The optimism and confidence that they'd shared just three minutes before was being shattered into a thousand pieces by Heidi's effortless mastery.

Finally, mercifully, the bell rung and Heidi's clinic came to an end. The smiling supermodel grabbed a mirror and surveyed the beauty of her completely untouched face, then wave a dismissive glove at Charlize, sending the silent but unmistakable message…"You're nothing!"

Neither Char or Aisha could fashion much of a reply. It had been an ass-whipping of biblical proportions, yet Char had survived; she was alive although sitting forlornly on her stool, looking forward to her next fresh opponent.

"Man, Char. I gotta talk facts here. You're down 2-3-1; you just got your ass kicked by a Euro-supermodel and Burke hasn't even shown us her best fighters yet. Is it time to pack it in? Nobody's gonna doubt your courage. This is just too damn hard - for anybody!" Aisha argued, compassionately.

Struggling to focus her crossed eyes, Charlize spit out her mouthguard, "Tyler, I love ya, girl, but here me out. I am not gonna be responsible for letting that cunt take a cat-o-nine tails to your sweet black ass. You got that? Listen to me - long as I've got a pulse, I've got a chance; bring 'em on! Charlize replied defiantly.

Tears in her eyes, Aisha Tyler manufactured some courage, stared the diabolical Brooke Burke in the eye and shouted, "NEXT!"
********
ROUND SEVEN: ANGIE EVERHART

Aisha Tyler had no doubt at all about her fighter's stiff upper lip...Charlize was the personification of courage and endurance. No, it was the badly swollen lower lip that concerned Tyler, not to mention the puffiness that encircled both eyes after the onslaught of Heidi's surprisingly talented fists. Silently, Aisha feared that Charlize's dogged determination in the face of a steady diet of abuse might simply be the product of a deeply rooted sense of denial. She asked herself whether she could, in good conscience, let Theron continue to expose herself to the beating she was taking.

Meanwhile, In Nevada, any cockeyed optimist willing to bet on Charlize's finishing ten rounds AND winning the bout could just about name his odds. Most of the so-called smart money had the fight ending at eight rounds, tops.

Aisha swallowed hard, and glared at the primping Brooke Burke, who glared right back, holding the handle of her ringside cat-o-nine tails in one hand and dragging the talons gently over her other palm. Tyler had to admit it, she had been rash last night, and her black ass was in a very uncomfortable sling. Hers was a wounded, sluggish, pain-riddles fighter, and no amount of will power or moxie could change that. Aisha's only hope was for Brooke to roll out a pansy for Round Seven, so that Charlize could steal a round and even up the scorecard.

The woman she now saw emerging from the locker room was anything put a patsy....."Ladies and Gentlemen, your attention please", Morgan Fairchild crowd, "She's our second SI swimsuit supermodel of the evening; an accomplished actress in her own right....not that I can recall the name of any of her movies....AND, according to my good friend Sylvester Stallone, she is a tigress between the sheets (a smiling Stallone acknowledged the applause of the crowd, then took the seat of honor beside Catherine Zeta-Jones). And Charlize, she assured me that she'll be a tigress inside the ropes tonight. Charlize Theron, she's your next three minutes of Hell....AngieEEE EVERHART!"

"Shiiiiiit!" Aisha sighed to herself as she watched the awesome 5'11" redhead step through the ropes and begin shadowboxing. Angie matched Charlize pound for pound and inch for inch. And, like several others who proceeded her, she was a marginal actress running away from Father Time, and desperately needing a publicity coup.....like KOing Charlize Theron in front of the biggest audience in US television history, for instance.

Angie was clad in skimpy jaguar print lingerie. Her long, flame red hair flowed down to the small of her back. Her stunning brown eyes danced with vigor and malice, and her feet and fists churned like pistons of a well oiled machine. To call her look 'intimidating' would be to call the surface of the sun 'warm'.

The bell rung, and as the house lights dimmed, Charlize moved forward confidently, seeking to erase the embarrassment of her encounter with Heidi Klum. Supremely confident and certain that she packed the wallop necessary to put Theron down, Angie Everhart proceeded calmly, inviting Theron to wade in. Charlize snapped off a couple of respectable blows to the ribs, which Angie took in stride. Theron continued to press forward, landed another strong right to the mid-section and missed with a left intended for the redhead's jaw.

"What am I paying you for bitch?" an obviously displeased Brooke Burke shouted at the seemingly lackadaisical Everhart. Angie responded with a couple of indifferent jabs that suggested she had no intention of responding to Burke's tirade.

The first minute ended with a paucity of action, as Angie continued to let her eyes do the work her fists seem reluctant to do.

"What's she doing Sly?" Michael Douglas asked Stallone in the regal box. "Didn't she see what Klum did to her? We both know that Angie could knock Theron over with a feather...."

"You ever watch a jungle cat in the wild, Mike?", Stallone replied calmly. "The art is in the stalking; the patient sizing up of the prey....then, and only then....the MOMENT happens in a twinkling of an eye. Angie knows exactly what she' doing. Watch....watch....and be amazed."

Skilled boxing observers noticed the slightest tightening of Angie's glistening thigh muscles and an incremental ratcheting up of the pace of her footwork. Desperate to land the punches needed to win the round on points, Charlize stepped deep into Angie's wheel house and continued to pummel the midsection. Aisha Tyler noted, however, that there was not one signal of pain or even discomfort on Angie's eerily composed face. Then, in a nano-second, Everhart unsheathed her sword and drove a straight right hand into the bridge of the nose, sending a shocked Charlize stumbling back in reaction. The redhead released a long, flowing left hook that reached maximum acceleration at the moment it engaged Theron's jaw. A shower of saliva and perspiration escaped from Theron's head, as Angie continued her assault with a savage smash to the abdomen.

Charlize rushed toward the redhead and secured a clinch. Liz Hurley was Johnny on the spot and separated the combatants before Charlize could enjoy even a second's respite. Yet she came out of the clench swinging and landed a solid right to Angie's mouth that started a flow of blood. The taste of her own blood enraged Angie, and as the final minute of the round began, she used her reach advantage to pummel Charlize with a series of stinging jabs to the eyes. Charlize's eyes were almost swollen shut in the aftermath, and Everhart danced from side to side just to taunt Charlize and her limited visibility.

Angie now understood that her KO assault was on schedule. She planted her feet, and after sending a couple of sledgehammer blows to the ribcage, directed a nasty uppercut at Charlize's chin. The blow missed by mere millimeters. But it did miss…and Charlize countered with a surprisingly strong punch in the nose. The big redhead now had nasal blood flow to accompany the red stream coming from her lips. As time ticked down, Angie's fists flew in pursuit of the knockout. In perhaps Charlize's strongest twenty seconds of the whole fight, she ducked under or deflected each one.

As Hurley called out, "ten seconds" a suddenly red faced redhead understood that she would be denied her knockout. Admittedly, she'd won the round easily, putting Theron in a do-or-die dilemma, but Charlize's courageous defensive stand sent an electrifying intuitive signal to both Ms. Tyler and Ms. Burke that "this ain't over yet, girls." Screw the arithmetic!

Angie celebrated her 'victory' by cutting her gloves off and storming angrily back to the locker room, a blood stained towel covering her lower face but the eyes visible above the towel were those of a frustrated tigress returning to the pack without a kill.

As Charlize returned to her stool, she saw a familiar face emerging from the darkness beyond ringside. Striding toward her corner, the woman's identity became clear. It was Gerda; Charlize's mom! She'd flown all night from Johannesburg, then taken a taxi straight from the airport arrival gate to the arena.

"Did ya see that bitch bleed, Mom?" Charlize asked, her voice weakened by exhaustion, but with a thousand megawatt smile on her puffy lips.

"I sure did, Baby!" the elder Theron replied reassuringly, placing her hand on her daughter's gloved left fist. "I pity the next fighter they throw at my Charlize," Gerda laughed as she shook hands with Aisha. "My baby's back is against the wall. That's a very comfortable place for a Theron to be, as you will soon discover."

Aisha saw no need to inform either Theron that the scorecard now stood 2-4-1; Charlize had run out of chances, she had to survive and win the next three rounds to stave off defeat. But everybody knew that! For the Theron's, the only real question was, "WHO'S NEXT?"

The time had come for all out war, and Brooke Burke was preparing to serve up an enemy that made the term 'war' seem woefully inadequate. Nobody quite understood it at that moment, but in a mere three minutes, the roof was about to be blown off the Staples Center and one of the greatest chapters in live television history was about to be authored.....
********
ROUND EIGHT: CINDY CRAWFORD

Earlier that morning, in a fashionable Beverly Hills office building, a 9 AM meeting had been hastily called. Events of the prior evening - namely the unprecedented audience and buzz surrounding the Charlize Theron Gauntlet - had attracted the interest on the CEO of Blackglama, the nation's most influential furrier. Now, he was meeting with Cindy Crawford, one of Brooke Burke's 'chosen'.

"Cindy," he spoke, gesturing out the window of the executive penthouse suite to a billboard below. "Take a look at that."

The PETA ad bore a smiling photo of Charlize Theron and her dog and the tag line read, IF YOU WOULDN'T WEAR YOUR DOG, DON'T WEAR FUR! Slamming his fist down on the desk, he seethed, "I really, really, REALLY hate that bitch!"

"Not half as much as I do!" was Cindy's curt reply. "She called me a hypocrite and a phony. Now, I can't go anywhere in this town without those candy-ass animal rights wimps getting all up in my grill."

"Cindy," the executive laughed. "Let's face facts. You ARE a hypocrite and a phony; and that's why you're here. That's why I'm here....Hell, it's why I love you so!"

For years, Crawford had been an outspoken critic of the fur trade, appearing in several ad campaigns. But Blackglama's money smelled awfully sweet to her - especially after she'd drained her bank account financing her ill-fated 'Twelve Labors of Karen McDougal'. So she was only too willing to jettison her integrity - in exchange for a million dollar payoff! Cindy the Animal Lover became Cindy the Fur Industry Toady but now Charlize and her billboards were a daily reminder to Cindy of her loathsomeness.

"Here's the deal!" Cindy began, every word dripping with venom. "You saw what happened last night....friggin' Tera Patrick, for crying out loud! By the time Char-sleeze gets in the ring with me, she'll be ripe for plucking. For a mere FIVE million dollars, the largest audience in the history of television can see little ol' me strut to the ring wearing a floor length Blackglama stole! Then I sensuously slip it off to reveal THIS fabulous body in a black sequin bikini. Oh, and did I mention that THEN I beat her crusading, do-gooder ass to a pulp! When the ten count is complete, I'll drape your mink stole over her unconscious face and plant my boot between her silly little breasts. That, gentlemen, is entertainment….and publicity on an unprecedented scale! Plus, the fur industry gets revenge on that self-righteous twerp...."

"Five million you say?" the drooling executive chuckled. "Where do I sign?"

Five minutes later, her eyes hidden behind a pair of designer sunglasses, Cindy made a quick trip to her bank to deposit her check, then headed to the gym for a final session with the stationary bag upon which she taped a grinning photo of Charlize Theron. There was celebrity ass to be whipped and a reputation to resuscitate.....

That evening, as the lights dimmed in anticipation of Morgan Fairchild's introduction of the eighth fighter, Charlize's mother Gerda Theron hurried down the aisle and took the "reserved" sign off an empty ringside seat in her daughter's corner. The seat was smack dab in the middle of a bevy of well-wishers; a veritable who's who of Tinseltown; Jennifer Connelly, Jennifer Garner, Halle Berry, Catherine "Cat" Bell, Faith Hill, Elle McPherson, Lucy Liu, Cameron Diaz,. Beyonce Knowles. All Charlize's rivals, most long-time bitter opponents - but for tonight anyway, all solidly in Charlize's corner; ready to get rowdy now that everything was on the line....

But before Morgan could begin her speech, Brooke Burke cued the lights and the music…no words of introduction were needed for the image said all that needed to be said. The spotlights captured Cindy Crawford, in a show-stopping, jaw dropping hands on hips catwalk, showing off a stunning black mink stole, her hair pinned up in a tight, severe style, her face set in an assassins scowl, accented by amply applied layers of blush and mascara. For the final 100 yards, Cindy's gaze sought out Charlize's eyes, and stared laser beams at her as each stride brought them closer to confrontation.

Everybody in the hushed arena understood at once. This was no three minute boxing exhibition…this was a 'Death Match' after which one and only one fighter would be standing in a mere 180 seconds.....

"I'll be Goddammed!" Aisha Tyler muttered. "A mink stole! That bitch has GOT some balls."

"Not for long, Sista,...not for long!" Charlize seethed, continuing her stare-down with the fast approaching brunette as Cindy entered the ring to a chorus of boos.

Clearly relishing her 'heel' role, she twirled around arrogantly in her fur coat, then shed it and handed it off to Brooke Burke for safe keeping. Then, seconds before the bell was to ring, when the unholy Trinity of Cindy, Brooke Burke and Liz Hurley huddled, whispering frantically, Charlize and Aisha knew treachery from the allegedly impartial Hurley would soon manifest itself.

Charlize's adrenal glands were pumping like Mt. Vesuvius when the bell finally sounded and she headed straight to the center of the ring with a sense of purpose ordinary mortals could only imagine. But Cindy wasn't a rival to be overwhelmed by sheer force of will; she was crafty and in her own diabolical fashion, equally driven. The round began with an exchange of solid right hands, with each fighter landing a clean, crisp blow. Initiation was over.

Cindy waded in aggressively, working her quick fists snapping up and down, scoring with stinging jabs and thundering body blows. Charlize responded in kind, as offense trumped defense in both fighters' strategies. It was trench warfare, pure and simple. As the first furious minute closed, Cindy dropped her right hand to her waist and drove a vicious low blow up into Charlize's womanhood. The punch landed with precision and elicited a stunned, sickly "Ooooooofff!" as Charlize was lifted up on her tip-toes goggle-eyed with shock and pain!

The outraged crowd rose to its feet in angry protest for the obvious foul - obvious to all except Liz Hurley, apparently! She instructed the fighter to fight on, with no penalty or even a verbal warning assessed. Cindy glanced over to Brooke whose gleaming eyes signaled her approval of Cindy's dirty tactics. After a furious exchange during which Charlize landed a solid right to the jaw, Cindy dropped her right again, and once more slammed a savage shot well below the belt. Charlize appeared frozen by the shock and her mouth pinched in a tight 'o' around her mouthpiece as her hands involuntarily came down to protect her vulnerable private parts.

Cindy uncorked an immense left hook that caught the blonde flush on the chin and Charlize took one step back before she crumpled to the mat with her back against the ropes! Cindy raised her gloves in a victory stance as she headed to a neutral corner where she was vilified by dozens of ringside denizens, including a screaming, red-faced Karen McDougal, who had to be physically restrained by both Irish and TNT, who sat on either side of her. Liz Hurley went quickly to work on the ten count but Charlize, operating on pure will power, managed to pull herself up the ropes and stagger to her feet just beating the count!

As she leaned back on the ropes and let Liz wipe her gloves, the blonde's bleary, squinting eyes focused on the smirk on Cindy's beaming face. In preparation for her Oscar winning performance in 'Monster', Charlize had worked on the skills necessary to internalize hatred on a deep, existential level and she'd relied on the power of suggestion and her extraordinary capacity to focus and 'center' a performance. Now, as she held the top rope for stability and peered across the ring, she realized she was crossing the line between illusion and reality. She truly, truly, truly, hated the mole-faced supermodel and every vile attribute she flaunted. Before her stood a cheater, a hypocrite, a classic bully, and a fur-wearing, fur-promoting demon!

Charlize had no idea where the strength or stamina would come from, but she had sixty seconds to wipe that smirk off the cruel covergirl's face and, by God, it was time to get busy. Cocky Cindy had no idea what was in store for her as she waded in confidently, ready to deliver the final blow to the ripe-for-the-plucking Theron.

Cindy began to casually toy with Charlize, flicking her left jab out to pancake Charlize's precious titties, grinning at the expression on her face each time the heavy leather glove smacked into her chest. Then Cindy pushed out a lazy left jab to Theron's face, setting up her finishing right cross. But Charlize blocked it expertly and smacked Cindy right on her trademark mole with her own right cross that looked like it had started picking up steam way back on the plains of South Africa. Cindy's knees buckled, then she stumbled back in disbelief as Charlize buried a second shot in her ribs so deep Cindy thought her lungs were coming out her mouth.

The blonde pursued the brunette to the ropes, then blasted away at Cindy's supermodel belly with six unanswered, and progressively more savage blows. The terror in Cindy's bulging brown eyes was captured by the TV cameras - and destined to be shown repeatedly on cable news shows around the globe! Her strong, agile legs were slowly transformed into wet spaghetti as Theron's unchecked body onslaught continued.

After a tooth-loosening shot to the jaw, Cindy's struggle to remain upright demanded that she widen her stance and Charlize saw the ideal moment for HER to make an abrupt left turn from the Marquis of Queensbury's rules! Grasping Cindy's shoulders firmly with both gloves, Charlize stepped forward and drove her knee up suddenly and violently and brutally into the supermodel's groin! Cindy was sure her clitoris was on an express elevator to her throat!!

Liz Hurley stepped in and prepared to verbally warn and penalize Theron, when Aisha Tyler sprinted down the ring apron, grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to glare right in her eyes as she hissed, "You've been a fuckin' blind cunt for the first two minutes, Liz; you better STAY blind if you know what's good for you...."

Aisha's threat was couched in clear unambiguous language that even the flustered actress respected. Plus, the capacity crowd would certainly have rioted had a foul been assessed on Charlize after Cindy's flagrant disregard of the rules. As it was, their frenzy was near riot pitch; they demanded blood and the hatred-crazed Charlize was poised to deliver it. Defenseless, Cindy was fed a meal of four consecutive knuckle sandwiches, the last of which was Charlize's crowning achievement! Cindy melted into a puddle at her feet, dropping to her knees, then toppling over onto her back, face up, out cold!

A mere twelve seconds remained on the ring clock when Cindy hit the canvas and Aisha Tyler, sensing Liz Hurley's reluctance to begin an honest count, quickly raised a triumphant index finger and gestured to the crowd to count along with her.

"ONE!" chanted a chorus of 18,000 voices in unison. "TWO!" In the bedlam, Karen McDougal sneaked up behind Brooke Burke and grabbed Cindy's mink stole. She tossed it up to Charlize who took grateful possession just as "TEN!" escaped thousands of hoarse throats, followed a second later by the bell.

Charlize brandished the despised garment over her head as the crowd screamed their approval. She dramatically draped the fur over the length of Cindy's motionless, beaten body, then stepped forward and planted her right foot between the supermodel's boobs. The paparazzi had their 'shot of the year' for 2005, and just a month before the Academy Awards!

Thirty seconds had transpired, without any signs of movement from the stupefied supermodel when Charlize kicked he mink to the side, stepped across Cindy's body and stood with her legs bestriding the fallen supermodel like a Colossus of Rhodes! Then she dropped her ass on Cindy's belly and assumed the classic schoolgirl pin straddle with her knees pinning Cindy's arms to the mat.

"You know something folks..." Charlize deadpanned into the microphone Aisha Tyler wrestled away from Morgan and now held up to her lips. "...when those billionaire scumbags in the fur industry threw millions of dollars at dear, sweet, ol' Cindy here, it turned her attitude 180 degrees. I say we find out if there's some other part of her I can turn 180 degrees!"

She tore open Cindy's bra exposing her breasts to the appreciative crowd, then grasped both nipples firmly with her thumbs and forefingers. She stretched them up, then pinched and proceeded to twist them around (at least) 180 degrees. Suddenly, the smelling salts Brooke had ready became superfluous as Cindy was jolted wide awake by the pain in her boobs, lifting her head and screaming at a pitch only dogs could hear.

Lost in the bedlam in the ring was the visual exchange between Mother Gerda Theron and Liz Hurley as the rule-breakin' Brit babe got put on notice she was a marked woman!

The disgraced fur industry toady in Cindy's corner was chased from the ring, subjected to a steady stream of boos and booze (beers poured over her head and full paper cups flung by those too far removed to be able to pour). She would take a long hot shower alone as she wondered how things could have gone so, so, horribly wrong!

Like her cohort, Cindy too was chased from the arena, first being kicked out of the ring by Charlize, then pursued down the aisle by an irate Karen McDougal, barely beating her to the dressing room and locking the door in instant before Karen's muscular body crashed into it. As Cindy leaned back on the locked door and heaved a relieved sigh, she heard the sounds of scuffling as three beefy female security guards got Karen under control, then escorted her back to her seat after giving her 'severe talking to' about the dangers of running around backstage unescorted.

"What the fuck happened to you?" the other woman in the locker room snorted once Cindy caught her breath. "I KNEW you couldn't handle your own shit, Crawfish. And that mink stole entrance? Damn that was plain stupid. Looks like it's up to me to put our little Blondie away for good. Thank goodness I got the goods....which is more than I can say for your sorry pasty white ass. Woman, you make it very hard for us supermodels to get r-e-s-p-e-c-t..."

With that, the statuesque Naomi Campbell stepped out of the dressing room into the corridor to await Morgan Fairchild's introduction and her own 'date with destiny.'
********
ROUND NINE: NAOMI CAMPBELL

As Charlize took a well deserved seat on her stool and tried to enjoy two minutes of well-earned rest, the Staples Center continued to rock as Theron's inspiring thrashing of rule-breaking bully Cindy Crawford had whipped the crowd into a fever pitch. As the Jumbotron continually replayed Charlize's savage KO punch - and the aftermath in which she'd covered Cindy's limp body with her own mink stole - had animal rights advocates throughout the building chanting sarcastically, "FUR HAG! FUR HAG!"

Charlize's chest was pumping rapidly as she took in the din with a wry smile. There was something about the surge of good old-fashioned, pure, unadulterated HATRED that did a weary body like hers good! That snooty phony Crawford had really touched a nerve in Theron and pounding her to a pulp proved to be just the sedative Charlize needed.

Aisha Tyler's heart was pounding like a bass drum as she reflected on the abrupt change in fortune the eighth round had brought. A fighter she had seriously considered withdrawing from the battle had faced her perfect adversary and had risen splendidly to the occasion. But now, an obstacle loomed that would once again call upon her to utilize her talent to the maximum and once more kindle her passion. There was no doubting the assassin's heart that lay within the bosom of the top catfighter on the catwalk…Ms. Naomi Campbell!

Although beating Campbell would require a Herculean effort on Charlize's part, she and Aisha had an advantage; Aisha had trained Charlize specifically to face Naomi, having fully anticipated she MUST be one of Burke's sadistic stable. Aisha had devoted hours of studying video of Campbell's fights and now she smirked; confident she had the bitchy supermodels number. The 'book' on Naomi was basic - infuriate her with insults and trash talk! Naomi's ego was monumental, but also easily bruised and provoked. Aisha knew that a fighter unable to control her temper would be mistake-prone and vulnerable. Her plan was to make Charlize's war of words every bit as important as the war of fists and wills.

Then the bell rang and Naomi, dressed in a skin-tight spandex tube top of gold lame and white boy-cut shorts trimmed in gold, catwalked her glistening mocha body to mid-ring where she planted herself and awaiting her blonde rival. Charlize took her time, but the instant both women were face-to-face, each flashed lighting quick left jabs, both scoring to the other's cheekbone. Then while Naomi began to circle skillfully, Aisha unleashed her tongue and the recent, highly-publicized breakup of Naomi and Usher provided the grist for Aisha's mill.

As Naomi back-pedaled toward her corner, Tyler whipped out her cell phone and began to yell into it in a very loud voice, leaving no doubt Naomi could hear. "Why, Usher! I'm flattered, of course," Aisha cooed, very conspicuously, "but I would NEVER consider hangin' with you until you've been checked out...that herpes stuff is forever; ya know?"

The expression change on Naomi's face was instantaneous. Her eyes flashed with anger - and she made Charlize pay for Aisha's ploy with a nasty right to her left side ribs. Already, Charlize's eyes were starting to sting and burn as something foul-smelling ran with the sweat from her brow down into her eyes. She'd taken a series of light jabs to the face and she began to suspect that Naomi's gloves might not be exactly Kosher. Ten seconds later, the burning in her left eye began to cause blurred vision, then to virtual blindness!

The scene was eerily reminiscent of the first Cassius Clay- Sonny Liston fight in Miami Beach in 1964 during which Liston's corner had doctored his gloves with an irritating liniment that blinded Clay for an entire round. Naomi Campbell was well-known to be a student of boxing history with a vast library of fight films at her disposal. Doubtless she and the devious and diabolically resourceful Brooke Burke had boned up on their boxing history while toning Naomi's exquisite booty!

Now, with Charlize squinting and frantically rubbing her eyes in obvious agony, Naomi planted her feet and brought out the heavy artillery! In Theron's corner, however, Aisha refused to panic despite Charlize's obvious peril. She began to loudly discuss Naomi's previous sexual escapades with the likes of Mike Tyson and Robert DeNiro - using very unflattering (and gut bustingly hilarious) phrases. Unable to restrain herself, the supermodel with the superego stopped punching and turned away from her efficient slaughter of Charlize, stepped over to the ropes, leaned over and took a wild swing past the turnbuckle at the quickly ducking Aisha. Tyler just barely avoided Naomi's fist., then popped back up still trash talking non-stop!

Across the ring, a red-faced Brooke Burke screamed at Naomi to, "…stop screwin' around and get back to business! Finish off that bitch Theron and I'll GIVE you Aisha on a silver fuckin' platter!" With a grunt, Naomi complied, turning back around and landing a gut bomb that doubled the still-blinded Theron over, her forehead coming to rest against the elastic band of Naomi's shorts where her super-sensitive nose detected the intense concentration of the medicinal aroma of the liniment that had nearly blinded her.

Again, Tyler raised her voice and began to rant non-stop, praising the virtues of that mystery woman on Usher's arm at the Grammy's. After a few seconds it all was just too much for Naomi who again turned around and leaned into the ropes to take another wild swing at verbal assailant Aisha. When Naomi turned away, Charlize nearly fell on her face but, acting on instinct, and in a radical departure from the Marquis of Queensbury rules, she reached up and grabbed Naomi's shorts, pulling them down around her ankles as the willowy supermodel leaned over the top rope to take a swing at Aisha!

What was revealed was the skimpiest black thong imaginable, and the pungent aroma of a petroleum-based salve rising from her exposed undergarment. Outraged and wild-eyed, Naomi whirled back to face Theron, then uncorked a savage left hook clearly intended to take the blondes head off at the shoulders. Fortunately for our heroine, Naomi's gloved fist whistled just wide of the mark!

For Charlize, still blinded and by now very, very, weary, the moment of decision had arrived. Naomi was slightly off balance after her follow-through; heels lifted up off the mat, toes dug in, body arching forward with all her weight on her front foot. Through tearing, squinted eyes, Charlize could barely distinguish one thing.... the sharp contrast between Naomi's leering pearly white teeth bared in rage and the dark complexion of her face. Summoning her best punch of the night, Charlize from her knees fashioned a savage left hook that slammed right onto the point of Naomi's jutting jaw.

Naomi was rocked back on her heels. Then as her eyes rolled back in her head and the supermodels long legs buckled, her knees unhinged and her shapely, muscular thighs gave a quiver. She staggered, tried to step backward to regain her balance…only to be tripped up by the shorts around her ankles! As Naomi began to topple, her arms wind-milling, she careened awkwardly into the ropes, grabbing the top strand with one hand before she dropped to one knee. But Theron's punch had been so perfect - so devastating - that it almost had a time-release effect. Naomi, rather than rising from her knee at the count of five as she tried to do, instead lost her stabilizing grip on the rope and collapsed to the canvas where she sprawled glassy eyed and drooling; spitting out her mouthpiece which rolled in an ever-narrowing circle in front of her face until it too toppled over.

Aisha once more was forced to prompt Elizabeth Hurley to get going with the ten count. She did and Naomi was counted out with less than five seconds remaining in the round! The capacity crowd, heretofore in shocked silence, suddenly erupted in a pandemonium of jubilation and Aisha Tyler, beside herself, mounted the corner turnbuckle and pumped her fist in the air to further incite them!

Still on her hands and knees, Charlize had one task she wanted to complete before returning to her stool to rest before what would be the climactic tenth round. She crawled over to Naomi, reached down and plucked the thong from where it was tightly wedged in Naomi's crotch. Then she slowly drew it down the length of Naomi's long, lean, limp legs, pulling both it and her shorts off over her feet. Charlize held it to her nose and as she inhaled, she got two unmistakable aromas, the least expected that of the offending liniment.

As she struggled to her feet, Charlize waved the thong like a war trophy, then as Brooke came into the ring to retrieve her fallen warrior, Charlize turned and scrubbed it in Brooke's startled, ashen face. The crowd jeered as the villainess ducked away, her face already red from humiliation, its color deepened by the impact of the noxious chemical. Red faced - and caught red handed - Brooke was too late to prevent Charlize from stealing her ringside cat 'o nine tails which she'd brought to the ring with her in anticipation of a post-fight celebration with Aisha's ass.

"You'll have NO use for this tonight, bitch!" Charlize hissed between ragged gulps of air. "I can't wait....Aisha's gonna smoke you like a pack of Camels!" she taunted, her eyes still mere slits.

The weary blonde flipped the aromatic thong to Danny Boy at ringside; lucky TNT became the proud new owner of the cat 'o nine tails. Both knew their college education's would be paid in full as soon as two very active eBay auctions took place!

Having made her point, Charlize trudged back to her stool, pausing only briefly to drive her right foot into Naomi's bare butt, rolling the woozy supermodel awkwardly out under the bottom rope onto the ring apron, then crashing down to the hard, cold, concrete floor below. Naomi landed hard, bounced once before coming to rest in a puddle of flesh where she lay like road kill while the crowd went abso-fuckin-lutely berserk.

The tenth round - almost certain to be one for the ages - was now only a mere ninety seconds away and the identity of Charlize's last opponent would be a secret for only a few seconds more as announcer Morgan Fairchild hiked up her short skirt, bent over and climbed through the ropes into the ring, then raised the microphone to her lips....

"Is this on?"
********
Supermodel Tyra Banks volunteered to 'take out the trash' and rudely hair-hauled the bruised and woozy Naomi Campbell to her feet, then took her arch-enemy on a well-received walk of shame. For Aisha Tyler, it meant one important thing; she wouldn't have to worry about Tyra in Round 10. Her eyes darted around the arena, as she sought to eliminate names from her list of possible rivals. Seeing Jennifer Garner and Cat Bell chatting casually with wine glasses in hand was reassuring. Meanwhile, surrounding the agitated Brooke Burke was a quartet of heels - Krista Allen, Daisy Fuentes, Kelly Hu, and Gena Lee Nolin - all advising her - four more names dropped from Aisha's list.

To her left, Serena Williams was kibitzing with Downtown Julie Brown and Anna Kournikova. To her right, a very chilly exchange of glances between Britney Spears and Beyonce Knowles suggested a catspat in the making, but neither would be challenging Charlize.

Having run four consecutive supermodels by Charlize, Aisha surveyed the crowd and located Gisele Bundschen, Molly Sims and Yamila Riaz-Dahi, all in evening gowns and all very obviously there only as spectators.

Aisha's list was shortening drastically. Nicole Kidman? No, she was just emerging from the ladies room, deep in conversation with Jennifer Connelly. Victoria Silvstedt? Aisha had seen her earlier in the evening, but the big Swede must have moved.....?

Then she saw it, and the light went on. The big Swedish bully was settling in to the seat of honor to the right of Michael Douglas. She was all smiles with Douglas resting his hand rather conspicuously on Vickie's fishnet clad thigh. But the chair to his left? Empty!!

As Michael handed Silvstedt a cold flute of champagne, Aisha understood the truth...Charlize' final hurdle would be the self-proclaimed Queen of Hollywood herself; Catherine Zeta-Jones; the last name at the bottom of Aisha's alphabetical list of potential rivals. She leaned over and whispered the name in Theron's cauliflower ear and Charlize's eyes suddenly glistened and her puffy, swollen lips managed to form a determined smile.

ROUND TEN: CATHERINE ZETA-JONES

"I never doubted she'd be the one!" Charlize told Aisha, staring toward the dressing room door.

"You ready?" Aisha asked gently.

"It's the role of a lifetime," Charlize shot back. "Damn right I'm ready…and so is she!"

Aisha sought out a moment of eye contact with Brooke whose eyes blazed with confidence. Clearly, she believed in her gladiatriatix' invulnerability.

All night, supermodels had emerged from the dressing room, each time with a scowling face and an exaggerated uber-bitch catwalk stride. Now, a smiling, waving, glamorous Zeta-Jones strode forward, diamonds glistening around her neck, and a stride that expressed supreme confidence without bravado. Her self-assured entrance expressed the belief that she was THE Hollywood superstar like no other, casually walking toward her inevitable coronation as the Queen of the Catfight ring as well. She glance up at her adoring husband, and at the Swedish bimbo at his side. The recent rumors suggesting that Victoria had been the Douglas duos guest for a menage a trois certainly seemed more credible as Vickie's baby blues glistened back lustily at CZJ.

Meanwhile, Zeta-Jones act was fooling nobody within the arena. More than 90% of the crowd hissed and booed the prancing super-heel, and when Charlize rose from her stool and locked her blood-shot eyes with Zeta-Jones' piercing brown ones in a death stare, the crowd fell silent, knowing history was seconds away from actualization. The final, and greatest, battle in the long war was nigh. The career trajectories of Tinseltown's two hottest properties would be immutably changed forever in the next three minutes!

There was no getting around it, Aisha Tyler sighed...CZJ knew what she was doing...strutting proudly to her corner wearing a stunning, low-cut sequined gown. The contrast between her 'fresh from the makeup chair' superstar glow and Charlize's slugfest-induced scruffiness couldn't have been more stark!

CZJ, her million dollar smile glistening, turned toward her attentive corner valet, exquisite former Playmate of the Year Heather Kozar, and sexily slipped off her opera gloves. Then in a move that dazzled the capacity crowd, Heather slowly stripped away Zeta-Jones' evening gown to reveal the ultimate in bad girl lingerie....a barely there bra and thong set in a bold metallic blue jaguar print, with a black lace garter belt holding up a thigh hugging pair of black stockings that had every penis in the arena rock hard in a nanosecond.

Cath was literally dressed to kill, but she wasn't through making an impression. As Heather and Brooke offered her the black leather boxing gloves that she was to wear, CZJ waved them away with a dismissive gesture and turned abruptly toward Charlize, daring the blonde to contest the final round bare knuckled. Heather removed her stunning diamond necklace while Cath stared across the ring, demanding a response to her challenge.

A hush fell over the crowd, but Theron's response was swift and decisive. She offered her hands to Tyler and demanded, "Cut 'em off...bare knuckles it is."

Just seconds before the bell was to sound, a frantic JackFac, sporting the very elegant Brande Roderick on his left arm, took his ringside seat beside Irish and K Mac. While the two former PMOYs embraced, JF asked the question of the night to Irish...."Did I miss anything?"

It seems that even stretch limos get a flat tire now and then, and JF and Brande had been victimized by an untimely blowout on this night of nights. As Irish settled into a vivid description of Cindy Crawford's downfall, the house lights dimmed, and Morgan Fairchild occupied the spotlight. In the shadows, those at ringside noticed an ad hoc huddle between CZJ, Brooke Burke and 'referee' Liz Hurley. Taking particular notice was Charlize's Mom, who had had her claws out for Hurley all night. Meanwhile, Heather Kozar retreated to the luxury of Michael Douglas' glass booth and plopped down on the lap of one Oscar DeLa Hoya, who was Douglas' guest of honor, and from all appearances, CZJ's boxing consultant.

"Ladies and Gentlemen…" Morgan shouted in her annoying, nasal voice. "At last ... the moment of truth. Please welcome the undisputed Queen of the Silver Screen, this generation's star of stars. She's heir to the great tradition of Ava Gardner, Marilyn Monroe, Sophia Loren and Catherine Denueve. You know her simply as CZJ. I submit to you that in the blood shot eyes of her rival, Ms. Theron, another set of initial apply - YWN: Your Worst Nightmare! Charlize, get ready for the agony of defeat. Prepare to worship your Queen, the incomparable Catherine… Zeta… Jones!"

A cascade of boos and hisses tumbled down from every section of the arean, as those gathered prepared to be the wind beneath Charlize's damaged, but still valiantly flapping, wings.

Aisha Tyler considered the importance of every word of her final instructions to Charlize. She felt an awesome responsibility to send her fighter into combat with just the right thought pattern.

"Here's the plan," she whispered to Charlize. "Let that strutting bitch have her minute in the spotlight. Invite her inside and let her land a few. See what she's got. She's got the classic bully's mindset....let her think she's stolen you candy. Then 90 seconds in, I want you to burst that big balloon of over-confidence. Teach her the lesson in humility that she's needed for years. I want that bitch weepin' and beggin' for mercy......But there ain't gonna be no mercy.....right?"

"Right!" Charlize's responded confidently through clenched teeth.

"How much you got left in that gas tank, Sugah?" Aisha chuckled.

"Not much," Charlize sighed. "But enough; and mine's all high octane."

A chill ran straight up Aisha Tyler's spins as Charlize rose form her stool. She was watching greatness being defined in word and deed, and it was electrifying. The house lights went up, the bell rung and the two biggest names in Hollywood rushed toward each other, knowing full well that one's reputation would be lying in tatters in less than three minutes.

As the fighters met in mid-ring and exchanged a pair of probing, but harmless jabs, Charlize focused on Tyler's instructions. Deliberately providing an opening in her normally textbook defensive stance, she encouraged CZJ to step in and work the torso, which the Welch Witch did with precision and cunning, very much in the DeLa Hoya mold. Theron's weary body felt the brutal impact of bare knuckles for the first time, and the sensation was anything but pleasant. Charlize stepped away from Zeta-Jones flurry, but not before a 'go-for-broke' uppercut grazed her chin. She knew she had been a mere inch away from real trouble, as Zeta-Jones fists were quick, hard and highly motivated.

"Are you feeling me?" CZJ taunted as she forced Theron to the ropes and worked the ribcage with a series of short, nasty blows.

Charlize stuck with the Tyler strategy and held her tongue. She managed to land a respectable left hook to the temple coming out of the clench, but the exchange had clearly benefited the more aggressive brunette. CZJ put on a respectable show of ring-reducing footwork, and soon Theron found herself backed into Brooke Burke's corner, with CZJ bearing down with both fists flying. Suddenly, as she struggled to ward off the bare fisted barrage, she felt fingers working behind her back. It was Brooke Burke unsnapping her halter top. The crowd made little "ooh" and "aah" sounds as Charlize's sweaty breasts bobbed free when her halter fell to the canvas.

Cath took full advantage of her distraction as she landed a classic right cross that sent the bare-breasted blonde tumbling to the floor. The taste of fresh blood in her mouth kept Charlize focused while the beaming Zeta-Jones retired proudly to a neutral corner and the smarmy Hurley began the count in her unctuous British accent.

Brooke Burke knelt down behind Charlize and whispered, "Smell the coffee, Cunt? She owns you. Stay down or she'll put you in the IR!".

Charlize consumed Burke's arrogant words like Pop-eye consumes spinach. As Hurley pronounced "Nine!" Charlize was on her feet watching the clock. One minute and ten seconds had passed. Zeta-Jones raced back toward her just as Liz Hurley lowered her arm. Zeta-Jones saw the battle now as Cat and Mouse, and those swaying pale, perky breasts were just too attractive to ignore!

Charlize stumbled back into a neutral corner and assumed a peek-a-boo defensive stance. The brunette bullied her way in, and concentrated her firepower on the sides of Theron's breasts. All thought of working the body and finding an opening to the chin vanished from her fight plan. She had all the time in the world to fashion a dramatic final minute knockout, she reasoned....now was the time to taunt and humiliate while Charlize remained committed to her peek-a-boo style.

After twenty seconds of unrelenting tit-smashing, Charlize finally struck back! Her left hand flicked forward, unchecked by CZJ's 100% commitment to offense. Charlize's bare knuckles smashed straight and hard into CZJ's upturned nose. Instantly, the brunette's flared nostrils became blood faucets. A spontaneous roar erupted form the packed house as Charlize followed up with a nifty right to the jaw that had CZJ retreating.

Suddenly, Brande Roderick and Karen McDougal got in touch with their high school cheerleading roots, jumped up and fired up the crowd.... "CHARLIZE.....BU MA YE!" Karen exhorted as Brande waved her arms in rhythm.

It was a variation on the cheer that had lifted Muhammad Ali to his inspiring victory over George Foreman a generation before. It was also the cheer that had inspired Karen's masterful conquest of Cindy Crawford a year before, in the very same Staples Center ring where Zeta-Jones and Theron were locked up in fierce combat.

The mood was electric, and for Charlize, it felt like 5000 volts of pure adrenaline. Even Oscar winner Zeta-Jones wasn't a good enough actress to mask the sudden chill of fear and foreboding running down her spine. Like all bullies, she was beginning to falter in the face of a strong, righteous challenge to her tyranny.

Charlize commanded her weary feet to dance, and as the two minute mark passed, she was using her reach advantage to pepper CZJ's bloody streaked and splotchy face with a steady diet of knuckle sandwiches. Zeta-Jones, in full panic mode, lost all awareness of the defensive lessons DeLa Hoya had so painstakingly taught her in recent weeks.

"CHARLIZE....BU MA YE!" the chant grew, as Brande and Karen relived their glory days on the high school sidelines while Charlize continued to blow the doors off her hated rival.

Theron maneuvered her frantic enemy into Aisha's corner. Tyler and Theron shared a knowing wink, then seconds later, it was Zeta-Jones' heavy hangers on public display, as her flimsy bra fluttered to the canvas at Aisha's feet.

The Playmate cheerleaders led the crowd in a sarcastic 'hoot' as CZJ tried in vain to hide her prize rack behind her gloves while Theron bore down on her like the Wrath of God. The cameras zoomed in to see a dizzying pattern of dancing nipples, as Charlize took particular relish in speed-bagging Cath's boobs with fists moving at light speed. Ringside microphones caught the heavy smack! smack! smack! of leather glove on bare tit flesh, and the mournful groans from Cath's puffy, purple lips.

Liz Hurley, looking on with wide eyes and a slacked jaw, never suspected until too late that Mother Theron was creeping up behind her.

"Gotcha!" the elder Theron crowed as she applied a painful Full nelson on the very corrupt referee.

The spectacle of the very unpopular Liz Hurley screaming and waving her arms, harmlessly and hysterically, fired the crowd up even more.

As Charlize continued to blast away at the fading Zeta-Jones, the cheerleaders struck up a new taunt.... "CZJ......DOA!!!!"

In the glass booth of honor, the very red-faced Michael Douglas glared at Heather Kozar and Victoria Silvstedt with wild, raging eyes, "Shut those bitches up....NOW! MOVE, GODAMMIT!!!"

Fists clenched and eyes ablaze, Kozar and Silvstedt moved in to attack.

Meanwhile, the ringside clock showed 0:30. Charlize was in command, and a mere thirty seconds away from an historic achievement. With Hurley locked up in a wrestling hold, and four Playmates of the Year rolling on the floor, claws bared and teeth snarling, Theron figured it was her turn to bid adieu to the restraints of the Marquis of Queensbury, and give her adoring fans a finish to cherish forever. With Zeta-Jones swaying harmlessly on wobble legs, Charlize dropped her fists and grabbed her enemy's arm. With a graceful spin, she flung the stumbling Cath into the ropes. CZJ's body bounced off the ropes gently, and Charlize was there to stop her forward motion with a left handed choke hold to the throat. Her right hand flicked a classic back handed bitch-slap to Zeta-Jones' already rosy cheek.

An even dozen stinging slaps followed in rapid succession, while the crowd chanted, "BITCH-SLAP! BITCH-SLAP!" in joyous unison.

"Fifteen seconds!" Aisha Tyler shouted out jubilantly.

Haughty Liz Hurley demanded, "LET GO OF ME!"

Charlize's mom obliged the busty spokesmodel, turned her around and nailed her with a textbook right cross. One second later, hundreds of singing cuckoos were circling the insides of the flat-on-her-ass Hurley's feeble brain.

Charlize's face bore a broad smile of family pride as she once again launched Catherine headlong into the ropes. As the befuddled brunette bounced back, Charlize summoned what little energy she had in reserve for the evening's coup d'grace.
Using the martial arts skill she had perfected on the set of "Aeon Flux" Theron hurled her weary body skyward and thrust out her right leg with remarkable savage grace. Her heel collided dramatically with CZJ's gasping mouth and the resulting impact nearly ripped Zeta-Jones head off! Her body jolted as if hit by a bullet from a high powered rifle. As she free fell to the floor, her head met the unforgiving canvas violently, rendering her unconscious, and four freshly dislodged teeth fell by her side.

Charlize knelt before her fallen arch-rival like Jimi Hendrix hovering near a flaming guitar. Her eyes locked on Zeta-Jones quivering face, Charlize raised her right fist to the sky and dramatically extended her index finger.

"ONE!" the delirious crowd shouted.

Next the middle finger…"TWO!"

And so on until the chant "TEN!" went up seconds before the final bell.

Charlize had completed the most improbable and impressive Trifecta in history. Back to the wall, and faced with elimination, she had stared down and knocked out Cindy Crawford, Naomi Campbell and Catherine Zeta-Jones - in succession!

As she rose from her knees and rushed to embrace Aisha Tyler, Charlize caught a glimpse of the melee at ringside.
Their arms raised in triumph, and their hips gliding smoothly like bronco busting cowgirls, Brande and Karen were enjoying a relaxing face-sit on the naked and bruised bodies of Kozar and Silvstedt. Charlize's continued to grin as she caught the sight of big-mouthed Morgan Fairchild being stripped and slapped silly by Leah Remini.

The evening's villainesses had been taken care of in fine fashion - except one. Charlize and Aisha trained their eys on a very lonely looking, forlorn figure twenty feet away. The moment had come for Brooke Burke to face the music.

"Make me proud!" Charlize, a woman of action and few words, told Aisha who, licking her lips, needed no more encouragement.

Pandemonium was the order of the day. McDougal and Roderick hair hauled their semi-conscious victims into the ring for a twin-kill "Walk of Shame". As Kozar and Silvstedt stumbled about like buffoons before them, Karen and Brande acknowledged the appreciative shouts of the crowd; their impromptu cheerleading having played a major part in turning the psychological tide in Theron's direction.

Meanwhile, Charlize was busying herself stripping the thigh-high hosiery from Zeta-Jones' magnificent, limp, legs. She took a rolled up stocking in each hand.

"One for me!" she mused, throwing the sweaty trophy to Aisha Tyler, who stuffed it into Charlize's ringside duffel. "And one for you, dear!" Theron laughed as she rammed the balled up stocking into CZJs mouth. The black silk showed brilliantly through the gap where Zeta-Jones front teeth used to be.

"Up you come!" Charlize demanded, yanking the clueless brunette up to her feet with a hug around the waist. "We've got some promenading to do."

As the triumphant cheerleaders concluded their festivities, Charlize delighted the paparazzi by dragging the very reluctant, but helpless Zeta-Jones around the ring to the accompaniment of thousands of flashbulbs. The last three minutes had irrevocably changed the trajectory of each actresses career, and Cath's future prospects were dropping like a skydiver with a parachute malfunction.

Meanwhile, Tyler and Burke continued to shadow box, preparing for a violent showdown that would mark the intersection of fading and rising careers.