"Jim, help me out here man. I'm too upset to continue."

Jim untangled his arms from Liz and took a step forward to pat Drew on the back.

"As Drew has pointed out Claire, you're hot. And while we all agree that Cray-Cray needs to be put in her place, unfortunately, she’s hot too. And you're both chicks with long hair. And we're in a restaurant that has approximately four different flavors of Jell-O in the back room," Jim explained seriously.

"Oh my God are you f**king kidding me?" Liz asked. "This is about wanting to see two chicks fight in a pool of Jell-O?"

"Liz. It's ALWAYS about wanting to see two chicks fight in a pool of Jell-O. Never, ever forget that," Drew said without any trace of humor in his voice. “Jell-O is delicious.”

Liz looked over at me. "You know, even though these two morons are speaking with their dicks right now, you should probably learn how to hit something. You know, just in case Carter can’t talk any sense into her. If she comes back in here, obviously we’ll all take her out, but what if she sneaks up on you when you’re unloading groceries from your car? Or jumps up from your backseat while you’re driving down the highway?" she asked.

“Oh my God, what is wrong with you?! This is not helping me AT ALL!” I screeched.

“Alright, that was probably an exaggeration. Besides, her tits are too big to squeeze down in the backseat of a car. You’d totally see her first,” Liz replied with a shrug. “And now, you can learn how to pop one of those implants without breaking a nail.”

This was really not happening was it? I didn't want to learn how to fight. I should have kept my mouth shut with the twat face giant vagina comments.

Drew turned to face me and put both of his hands up in the air with his palms facing out.

"Alright, strap on your brass balls and hit me," Drew said, widening his stance.

I stood there with my hands on my hips looking around at everyone. They all stood there waiting for me to punch Drew’s hands.

"This is the dumbest idea ever," I complained.

"Come on Claire, let 'er rip. Then you can go outside and tear her shit up like a Cyclops," Jenny said.

"Cyclops?" Jim asked.

"You know, that other name for like, a hurricane or tornado. Cyclops."

We all cocked our heads at her in confusion.

Drew sighed. "It's cyclone, baby."

I took that moment to wind back and punch Drew’s hand so I could take him by surprise. Drew looked at me in confusion while I bounced back and forth on my toes like a boxer. That felt good. That felt really good. I hit the shit out of his hand. Bring it on bitch!

"Claire, what the f**k was that?" Drew asked.

"Scared you didn't I? That was my fist of fury, BITCH!" I yelled.

Drew put his hands on his hips and stared at me.

"You have the punching power of a drunken baby. I hope you throw down your vagina harder than that. Otherwise, I feel bad for Carter’s penis."

"Why are we feeling bad for my penis?"

Carter came up behind me before I could tell Drew that my vagina and Carter’s penis were none of his business.

"So what's up, man? What the hell did Slut Bag McFuck Stick want?" Drew asked.

Carter sighed. "Oh just to tell me what a big mistake she made turning her vagina into a twenty-four hour seven-eleven. And how "you don't know what you got till it's gone."

"Wow, she quoted a Cinderella song. She's not afraid to bring out the big guns is she?" Liz asked.

Everyone was laughing and making a big joke about this, but it wasn't funny. It wasn't funny at all. That bitch wanted to kill me. Or at least punch me in the face. Did everyone forget about that fact already? She wanted to punch me. In the face. With her FIST.

"I hate to break up the fun, but Crazy Train wants to beat up my face."

Liz gave me a reassuring look.

"Calm down Long Duk Dong. You may punch like a grandma after drinking a forty-ounce, but remember Claire – you know how to take a punch. That's what's most important here right now," Liz said with a pat to my back.

I looked at her in confusion for a few seconds before I remembered what she was talking about - drunken Fight Club night last year.

"I'm sorry, but why does Claire know how to take a punch? I'm not sure I like where this is going," Carter said nervously.

"Well, last year Jim made us watch Fight Club for like, the ten-thousandth time. And while I’m all for a little shirtless Brad Pitt action, Claire and I decided to take a shot every time Edward Norton talked in third person. By about twenty minutes in, we were trashed. I don't know whose idea it was, but Claire and I started our own fight club in the living room," Liz explained.

"It was your idea, Liz. You stood up in front of me, lifted your shirt and said "Punch me in the stomach as hard as you can, f**ker."

Jim started laughing as he remembered back to that night. It wasn't my finest hour. I punched even worse when I was drunk, barely even grazing Liz’s skin. She, however, could punch like a WWF wrestler on steroids.

"Oh yeah, that's right! That was one of the best ideas I’ve ever had while drunk. We punched each other back and forth until you started wheezing and yelled, "I am Claire’s internal bleeding and you need to cut this shit out!"

Carter looked back and forth between us just shaking his head in disbelief.