Velma VonTussle sat in her car outside Motormouth Maybelle's record store; it was almost midnight. Glancing in the rear-view mirrors every few seconds, she went over the plan in her head: Find bedroom, kill helpless child, run. It was foolproof. She made a mental checklist, running over it aloud in a hoarse whisper.

"Gloves? Check. Baton? Check."

Well, now that that was done; she again glanced in every mirror, and then opened the car door quietly. Closing it with a soft thump, she looked over her shoulder; no one in sight. She made her way to the door of the record shop; locked. Well, this was unexpected. She stood and rubbed her chin, thinking how to overcome this obstacle. She hadn't considered the fact that this was the ghetto, and everyone locked their doors at night in the ghetto. Getting an idea, she went back to the car and retrieved a jacket.

She made her way down the alley to the back of the building. There she found what she was looking for; a small, high window that didn't appear to have bars on it like the others. She chuckled quietly to herself as she began to gather bits of junk to climb on. When she had made a sufficient pile, she stood upon it, peering through the window. A pantry, what luck! She wrapped the jacket around her baton and poised it before the glass; she thrust it at the windowpane. The glass did not break, but the window did swing inward. Feeling accomplished, she climbed cat-like through the window. Her dress caught, and she fell spread-eagled onto the pantry floor, her baton leaving her hand and landing who knew where.

She lay deathly still, listening for any sign of life from within. When she finally decided that any noise she had made would have been drowned out by the thunderous snoring coming from somewhere to her right, she righted herself and began a search for her precious baton. She found it lodged between a jar of pickles and an apple box. How on earth had it gotten there? She pushed the thought out of her mind and crept through the doorway into a short hall.

She passed the first door from which the snoring came; she knew who must be in there. No wonder they called her Motormouth. She passed another door but paused at a door with pink flowers painted on it. She turned the handle gently, and it creaked open. She fought back a fit of diabolical cackling as she saw the small figure lying under the covers. Velma VonTussle crept toward Inez Stubbs' sleeping silhouette. In the darkness she lifted her baton high in the air, shuddering with anticipation, preparing to strike…

Inez Stubbs gave a soft moan in her sleep as she rolled over.

Velma gasped, dropping the baton painfully onto her own head before falling to the floor and attempting to squeeze into the nine-inch gap beneath the bed.

As Inez adjusted herself, a small noise woke her. Was there something on her floor? Thoughts of the monster under the bed crept into her mind as she leaned her head over the side of the mattress; 

she saw what appeared to be a torso sticking out from beneath the bed frame. She let out a small yelp and hid under the blankets, hoping it was only a nightmare. But a moment later, she knew it was real.

Velma wriggled out from under the bed, thinking quickly. Retrieving her baton she began to beat the lump on the bed with it. The grunts of discomfort were satisfying; but she knew that if she wanted to continue this she would either have to shut the girl up or--

A smile formed on Velma's face.

She grabbed the small mound of blankets and fashioned a sack around the squirming child. In a surprising feet of strength she hefted it over her shoulder. Looking like a slender blonde Santa Claus, Velma VonTussle made her way back to the pantry. She hefted the makeshift bag of Inez, attempting to shove it through the window. After the third try she stood back, panting; the damned thing must have shrunk! Velma looked around wildly; there must be a back door? She dragged her bucking parcel back through the house.

When finally she found the back door, she exited the building gladly. She carried the sack o' child to the car, throwing it unceremoniously into the trunk before jumping into the front seat and gunning the engine, tires squealing as she took off down the road. Oh no; that was loud. She wondered if they would wake from their beds and come after her. But, she reasoned, it was the ghetto. There had to be tires squealing all the time, right? She drove faster anyway.

Inez untangled herself from the blankets that had bound her. Was she in a car trunk? She banged heavily on the trunk lid, screaming things that would make her mother bring out the wooden spoon on her. She kicked and yelled with no abandon until she felt the car make a sharp turn and slow down. She searched with her hands for a weapon of some kind. The search yielded a shoe with a deadly point of a heel. She laid perfectly still, the shoe ready for action.

Velma pulled into an abandoned lot; perfect, full of dark corners for murdering meddling children. She giggled gleefully to herself as she went around the back of the car to the trunk. With her baton raised in one hand, she opened the trunk.

There was a large amount of screaming as shoe and baton flew through the air. Velma shrieked in pain as the shoe connected with her left cheekbone.

"Oh my God! I'm bleeding! My face, my beautiful FACE!!"Velma had dropped to her knees. Inez took the opportunity to climb from the trunk and make a run for it.

"Aagh!" Velma's clawed hand had closed around Inez's ankle, and she fell, face first, in the dirt. Velma grunted angrily as she pulled the kicking kid toward her. Her eyes were wild and she bore her teeth as she grabbed at every bit of 'Lil Inez she could get to.

"Come here, you little rat!" Inez kicked her in the face. As Velma screamed in surprise and pain, Inez booked it toward the trees. She was feet away when Velma tackled her to the ground. Inez writhed 

beneath the mad woman, but Velma soon had her pinned. Her arms stuck fast to her sides by Velma's legs, 'Lil Inez grunted as she attempted to wriggle free.

Velma's teeth were clenched around her baton. She had grabbed it as she scrambled to her feet to make chase. Her nose bleeding profusely, she took the baton in her hand and poked the tip into the face of the squirming child.

"You," she hissed, "are the spawn…of SATAN!!" With this she raised her baton in the air, brought it down toward the face of the little snotrag that had ruined her life.

As she turned her head and prepared for the blow, Inez heard the squeal of tires on pavement followed by the sound of slamming doors. Velma shifted to look behind her, and in the process freed one of Inez's arms. Inez grabbed the baton, wrenching it from Velma's slack hand. She gave Velma a colossal whack across the face with it. Velma shrieked twice as loud when Seaweed grabbed her from behind, lifting her bodily from the ground. Inez felt herself being lifted form the ground as well, and smiled in relief to see the familiar face of her mother, Maybelle Stubbs peering down at her.

Velma kicked wildly, frantically attempting to escape the arms of Motormouth's son.

"Let me go! Release me, you dirty rotten--"Her words were cut short by a strong hand clamping over her windpipe. She gazed in wide eyed horror at the furious face of Motormouth Maybelle. She gulped, clutching at the fingers as Seaweed released her and she was left at the mercy of the mad black woman.

"If you ever," Maybelle's fingers tightened, "Come near me or my family again… I will personally wring your scrawny…white…NECK." Her nose was inches from Velma's; the latter nodded with difficulty as she sank to her knees. Maybelle threw her onto the dirt.

"You--you'll pay for this!" Velma spat at Maybelle's feet, than fled in terror. She dove into the driver's seat of her car, gunning the engine and burning rubber as she peeled from the lot. She drove at high speeds for several long minutes before finally calming down enough to reflect on the evening's events.

Everything had been going so well. She had been inches away from victory, centimeters from the revenge she had dreamed of. What had she done wrong? Maybe next time she would bring Amber along as an accomplice. She nodded to herself in the rear-view mirror, and then sighed in combined disappointment and sadness at her ruined face. She made a vow, then and there, to never rest until she saw the closed casket containing the baton-beaten body of Inez Stubbs.

Velma VonTussle chuckled wickedly to herself as she drove on into the night.