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“How the mighty have fallen!” An excerpt from the biblical Book of David. Everyone knows it. It didn’t just pass the tests of time, it aced them with a half-hour of review. At the same time, though, when you really think about context, the line’s a shell of its former self. See, what was originally the agonizing cry of a man mourning the loss of dear friends to war…
…can nowadays be attached to an unlikely duo of dumbasses hiding behind a bush.
“For the last fucking time,” Grace Madison hissed through clenched teeth. “Find. Your own. Bush.” Unfortunately for the Ultimate Golfer, the Ultimate Pro Gamer wasn’t so easily cowed.
“And give away my position?” Cassidy Amber (softly) scoffed. “Uh, yeah, no. Face it: this bush—”
“Don’t you say it—”
“—is our bush now.”
Sighing through her nostrils was the most Grace was willing to give that. No sense in trying to make sense of Cassidy, and less sense still in arguing. Focus. Back to what mattered. Back to why she needed this bush—her bush—in the first place: the man having pleasant courtyard conversation with a friend.
You see, Grace’s family… they had a bit of a running gag going at her expense. Ever since she first started running the golf course, her parents had joked ad nauseum about how wonderful it’d be if she wound up dating a lawyer. “Finally, someone who can keep you out of legal trouble!”
She got into a lot of that.
Anyways, enter Wolfgang Akire. The nicest bloody bloke Grace had ever met, and thus the bane of her existence. The genius idiot who kept thinking she could be a decent person, no matter how much evidence to the contrary she kept stacking right before his beautiful eyes. Wolfgang. Goddamn. Akire.
The Ultimate Lawyer.
Infuriating. Absolutely infuriating. How could she let this happen?! Were a few weeks of stern-but-soft “Ms. Madison”s, and warm little smiles really all it took?! What a load of—
“Засранец…”
—Засранец!
… What.
Grace incredulously turned back to her ally-in-embarrassment, whose puffed-up cheeks were starting to match her bright red hair. Cassidy didn’t seem to notice, her bitter gaze all but glued on Wolfgang. No, Grace realized, not on Wolfgang—on that friend mentioned earlier.
Wenona. Cold, calculating Wenona. One of the youngest billionaires alive. The redefinition to “ruthless business woman.” The Ultimate Entrepreneur.
Grace rolled her eyes. Right. Of course, that’s why Cassidy was here. Probably “gathering further intel on the working class’ greatest threat,” or some other bullshit like that. Well, all the power to her, so long as she stopped mumbling and stopped it right—
“Why’s she gotta have a perfect ass…?”
… Again, what.
“How will I face my Comrades if I’m seduced by the Dark Side…?”
It took a second to click. Took two to process and reboot. Took zero to slap a hand over her mouth.
Too slow. Too late.
Too funny.
-----
“I should probably—” Wolfgang meant to say something along the lines of “get Cassidy to stop strangling Grace,” but seeing as how hysterically the latter was laughing…
“Sometimes,” Wenona interjected. “It’s better to let the idiots resolve things themselves.”
And although Wolfgang felt the insult wasn’t necessary, he couldn’t necessarily disagree. Really, now. Two grown women—Ultimates, at that—fighting like children on the playground?
How the mighty have fallen…