The police came ten minutes later. Mylene was taken to urgent care, her cheek swollen, but she was okay.
The man? Hospitalized. Concussion. Broken ribs. Bruised ego.
I was handcuffed.
“Yes, officer,” I said calmly as they led me to the front yard. “I assaulted a man with a bubble wand and balloon stick. He hit my friend. And scared the children. I have no regrets.”
One officer whispered to the other, “She’s a badass.”
They uncuffed me. Took my statement. Didn’t arrest me. Mylene returned that night, wrapped in ice packs and fire in her eyes.
“Remind me to never cross you,” she muttered, eating leftover pink cupcakes.
Jhing Jhing passed me a wine cooler and saluted. “You are now the Queen of Pig-Unicorn Brawls.”
Later that night, when the kids were asleep and the yard looked like a
