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All In A (Sexy) Day's Work

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The thing about being a Strong Female Character is that you need to be on, one hundred percent of the time. But when you’re Susan B. Assthony, resident ass-kicker and sexy lady extraordinaire, it’s just part of the job.

The thing is that Susan is really bad at her days off.

Dang, Susan can’t even go out to pick up the newspaper in the morning without posing strategically in her action negligée and punching out the mailman.

(There’s a new issue of Missile Bras Weekly in the mail. Excellent.)

There’s the stretching in the morning, because you can’t expect a girl to twist her spine like that without a little preparation. There’s the substantial investment in double-sided tape for the outfits. There’s equipping the tactical beehive hair. There’s picking up the dry cleaning.

The dry cleaning is pretty important, because you can't just put an assless jumpsuit through the wash. Even the delicate cycle mangles them, and you just end up with even more asslessness. Geez, there's being Empowered and Expressing Your Sexuality and there's just plain tackiness. Honestly.

Susan draws her guns from her cleavage and kicks open the dry cleaner’s door, knocking over a man picking up a lot of plaid flannel shirts and upsetting the patriarchy. Heck yes.

The dry cleaner stares, but hands over her jumpsuits. Susan can understand the staring. Laundry day is always unfortunate, because Susan ends up having to wear that terrible jumpsuit from the nineties that is, like, at least ninety percent pockets. But even pockets upon pockets can’t keep a Strong Female Character down.

Susan punches out the dry cleaner for good measure. Can't let a good left hook go to waste.

It’s a busy day for a Strong Female Character. The to-do list just goes on and on.

Sexy grocery shopping.

Sexy lawn mulching.

Sexy dentist appointments.

(That last one is particularly tricky. I mean, dang, you try getting a crown done while looking seductive and empowered and also making small talk with the dentist. But Susan is a pro.)

After all that, though, Susan finds herself twiddling her thumbs. (Perfectly manicured and capable of trouncing any man in thumb wrestling. She has the trophy belts of ten consecutive championships hanging in her study.) Really, the only thing to do is to is to pose very attractively on the couch while drinking coffee.

It's a complete and utter relief when the emergency phone rings and Queenie growls out, "Girls. We've got a situation."

There's nothing else to say. Susan crashes out the front window in a (sexy) tuck-roll of magnificent womanliness, fires up the old jetplane and finally gets to work. Two loop-the-loops and a couple of barrel rolls later, Susan arrives with the planes of her enemies exploding behind her. She swishes her hair around as she takes her helmet off, and the slow-mo engages to catch the sun glinting off her multiple sunglasses and her beehive swooping in the wind. It is goddamned magnificent.

She spits out the hair that has magnificently swooped into her mouth. Sexily.

“What’s on the feminist agenda for today, girls?” she says, striding towards Georgia and Queenie, who have likewise left trails of devastation and weaponized sexual liberation in the wake of their jetplanes. Weak-willed men defenestrated. Suburban wives weeping at the precision strikes on their chocolate chip cookies and lovingly frosted cupcakes. Triumphs in the name of All-American womanhood. It’s almost enough to make Susan’s heart swell, a flag fluttering in the background and an eagle overhead shedding a single tear of pure patriotic pride.

Queenie pulls surveillance materials out of her heirloom gunbelt. “It’s pretty serious.”

“Don’t you worry, we can handle it. I’m sure we’ll keep--” Susan puts her sunglasses on. “Abreast of the situation.”

“Yeahhhhh!” says Georgia.

“So don’t get all--” She pulls out another pair. “--atitter about it.”

“Yeahhhh?” says Georgia.

“Because we’re known for--” It’s a good thing she stocked up on sunglasses this morning. A Strong Female Character is always prepared with a couple of extra pair of sunglasses in her beehive for precisely these situations. “--racking up victories.”

“Okay, okay, get on with it.”

Queenie clears her throat. “It’s like this: I’ve got it on good authority that Wonder Woman is wearing pants these days, thereby making her less Sexily Empowered.”

“No, she isn’t,” Georgia says.

“Yes, she is.”

“No, she isn’t.”

Susan frowns. “Wait, what kind of pants are we talking about, anyways?”

“Yeah, you can’t just wear pants or not-pants, you have to, like, do sexy things to be Sexily Empowered. And be sexy. It’s hard work!” Georgia pouts attractively.

“What about the whole iconic thing? Can her swimsuit thing be sexy if it’s iconic?” Queenie puts in.

“Yeah, it’s kind of a complicated situation,” Susan agrees.

And that’s when an invisible jet lands on the runway and Wonder Woman climbs out.

“Oh, hey. We were just talking about your pants. Or not-pants?” Georgia says.

“Holy shit, is this really what I was called out here for? Not even a fucking cat?” Wonder Woman says, taking a drag from her cigarette.

“But it looks like you’re wearing your bathing suit, so it’s a moot point!” Susan says, a little desperately.

“Hm, what time is it?” Wonder Woman looks at her bracelet. “Oh look, it’s five past I don’t give a fuck.”

Georgia picks her wedgie. Susan adjusts her boob-patch. Well, this is awkward.

Wonder Woman rolls her eyes and stubs out her cigarette under her boot. “Listen. This is what’s going to happen now. I’m going to go home, grab some cookie dough and a bottle of gin, watch Extreme Couponing on TLC, defeat whatever Nazis I meet along the way, and wear whatever I goddamned want. Good day.” She climbs back into her invisible plane and flips all of them off.

Susan might be having plane envy.

“Hey, that sounds pretty good,” Georgia says.

“Let’s get Cheetos,” Queenie says.

Sunlight glances off Susan’s sunglasses. “Make it Doritos.”

“Free-tits,” Georgia says.

“What.”

“Like Fritos. But with more freedom. And sexiness.”

Susan looks over her sunglasses at Georgia.

“Or not. Whatever, let’s go watch Ice Road Truckers.”

Heck yes. Mission Day Off: Freaking Accomplished.