"Hey, Larry, who’s the chick in the mangled lady Liberty outfit? What’s with that lipstick?"

   "I don’t know. All she does is sit there. It looks like she lost her best friend."

"Well, Bob, why don’t you go talk to her. Everyone’s avoiding her like the plague."

Bob went to the bar to refill his glass with scotch, but couldn’t keep his eyes off of the disheveled Lady. She had a knock out body, beautiful eyes and he was sure that under that smeared lipstick were lips begging to be kissed.

Lady Liberty noticed Bob’s stare and looked away. That didn’t discourage him as he made his way through the mingling crowd.

When he reached her, he said, "Hi, my name is Bob. I couldn’t help but notice your outfit."

"Yeah, I’m sure that everyone’s probably talking about me, but I don’t give a shit. Do you have any idea what kind of a day that I had?" she challenged Bob. He had begun to realize that he might have made a mistake in approaching the woman. She had the kind of eyes a man could fall into and never come out, but she had the voice of a mad Rottweiler.

"What happened?" he asked tentatively as his eyes flicked over the groups of minglers who all seemed to be watching them.

"You must know Biffy and Randy. Hell, you’re here at one of their ritzy ditzy shindigs."

"Y-y-y-yes, I know them," Bob replied as he tried to loosen the starched collar that seemed to be digging into his neck.

"It was their bright idea that I wear this outfit since the theme of the party is 'Patriotic Fundraising.' What crap! Well, anyway, They send me this outfit and I looked just fantastic in it. Come on, Bob, admit it. I have a sizzling body."

Bob's eyes wandered over her body and rested on her threadbare breasts.

"These boobs cost me a fortune, you know. I didn't want the cow thing going on and had grown up with nothing more than zits for boobs so I wanted perfection," she boasted while running her hands over her taut breasts. Every man in the room was watching Liberty fondle herself. Bob started to sweat.

"Well, anyway, on the way over here, there was a freakin' clown convention at the Marriott and there they were, hundreds of those perverts with their big shoes, stupid painted on grins and enough orange hair to fill a Ronald McDonald convention. I don't understand clowns. I hate that whole gig. They shouldn't let those freaks run free scaring the crap out of little kids. Well, evidently the pervert clowns thought I was the call girl they had hired to do clowns all afternoon and they were on me like flies to honey!"

"W-w-w-what did you do?" Bob asked though his intuition said to be very scared and run.

"Hell, baby, I beat the shit right out of them. I don't mess around. You go around in the world looking like me, you have to have skills to protect yourself. I'm a Black Belt in Karate. Want to try something? I can demonstrate."

"N-n-n-no. Well, it's been interesting talking to you, but I have to run."
Liberty looked as Bob scurried like a mouse through the crowd and her face became very hard and cold.

"Men! All they want is fragile, empty headed, sniveling little boobettes. They meet someone with looks, a great body, class and strength and they run like babies off to Mama."

Liberty grabbed her shredded cape and walked slowly through the crowd. It was like the Red Sea parting for Moses. No one said a word as Liberty made her exit, but every man in the room and a few women, watched till she was out of sight.