Blame It on the Ring Card Girl

The outfit included: a tank top not much bigger than a napkin, shorts so tight they’d appear painted on, and a pair of six-inch stilettos with daggers for heels. 

“How am I supposed to walk in these?” she asked, admiring the terrible design. 

“You’re the ring card girl…”

Before the bells of round 1 sounded, she circled the canvas, perforating the mat while displaying the round number and a majority of her skin.

The commission shut down the promoter’s show.

“You inept bitch,” the promoter barked.

“I’m inept?” she chuckled, “You should have paid me after the fights.”

Word Count: 99

Prompted from Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge at:

Prompted from Word of the Day Challenge at:

Prompted from Fandango’s One Word Challenge at:

Prompted from Your Daily Word Prompt at:


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