Black Belt Belle

A Take On Beauty and the Beast

The humid morning air allowed rainbows to traverse the valley, and all was rather well. Actually, life was extraordinarily well for a girl of about 18 named Belle. Life was good to Belle, better than to the rest of the villagers, partially because life knew that if it did not treat Belle best, it would have its face punched in.

Life was shallow this way.

But then again, (though life never had this problem, having an inability to speak to Belle) everyone else in the village knew that if you called Belle Belle, you would have your eyebrows shaved off if you were a girl, and if you were a guy, you would have your face punched in.

Belle was partial to that sort of treatment.

So, instead of calling Belle Belle (most people preferred to cave than be punched, and oftentimes, Belle forgot her own policies, and she punched girls as well), the villagers called her 'that girl' and if they weren't calling her 'that girl' with a nasty, yet knowing look on their faces, they were calling her 'Luna' which she preferred to extremes.

Belle (I will be brave and call her that, for Luna never really fit her), it so happens, was not a very nice person, if you have not gathered that by now.

In fact, Belle was a very mean person. I am certain this comes as quite a shock to you, but I swear upon the… sun, that it's true. (I can't swear upon the Bible. I'm an atheist, sorry.)

Unfortunately for her, tales of Belle's ways didn't reach neighboring villages, partially because (and they had a right to) the villagers hushed up anything to do with her, as they were ashamed at the way someone in their town had turned out. Whisperings about how Belle loved to read and how she would punch your face in if she caught you whispering were spread all over the village, who didn't believe that Belle knew that it was whispering about her.

How wrong that was.

In fact, secretly Belle stared blankly at the books and listened as the people became hushed or lowered their tones near her, and raised their voices to normal level once they passed. In her mind, she laughed at this; it had become a sort of game.

But this is not currently a matter of consequence. In fact, it is a matter of very little consequence right now, because Belle was about to do something to freak out the rest of her little town. It would scare them; they would have nightmares of the prank Belle was going to play, it was that awesome. This would go down in the history books. And the town wasn't prepared.

Oddly enough, this time, the prank did not involve a tightly packed fist and loads of raw energy or strength.

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"Dad, can't you just leave me alone? Ever thought that maybe I have a life?" Belle glared at her father, who had never been punched once, contrary to popular belief. In fact, Belle, despite her cruel façade, was endeared with her elderly parent (her mother had died when she was young), and was polite to him most of the time. Today she was just slightly agitated because it was the day of the Prank.

"Ellie, Ellie. Calm down. Don't worry. Everyone will think you're even weirder than they know now." He knew her rather well too, and called her the pet name of 'Ellie' as opposed to 'Luna.' Belle didn't mind all too much. She just pretended to. It was like the game with the books.

"Thanks, Dad. I'm just going to go now."

He smiled, and winked. "Knock 'em out, Ellie. Show the world that more people need to be different." It wasn't surprising that he supported her, considering that he was a merchant/inventor who valued young talent, of which Belle was the very definition. When she was five, she'd been able to take apart any of his special mechanical inventions, never seen by the world, and put them back together again within the hour. Oftentimes, she'd be covered in soot and oil afterwards. Belle was great help around the shop.

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It was early morning, and the village wasn't ready for the ultimate hit. The ultimate prank. They'd be left in confusion for hours.

And then it began.

"Little town It's a quiet village. Ev'ry day Like the one before. Little town, full of little people. Waking up to say, bonjour."

The stares and confused looks were just beginning.

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The prank was going well.

Okay, amend that: it was going well, depending on your definition of well.

For example, the book keeper was so scared that when she asked if he had any new books in her sing-song fakey voice, he said, "N-no…" and grabbed one of the older books off the shelf and shoved it at her, backing into a corner of the shop and stammering, "P-please… k-keep it…." At that point he grabbed the ladder from the wall and held it in a defensive position, just in case she attacked.

Belle left at that point, just in case she "accidentally" punched his face in for being such a jerk and ruining her beautifully wonderful prank.

As she flipped through the pages of her newly acquired book, singing, and covertly laughing at the scared glances people were giving her, however, something very bad happened. Something very unpredicted… something out of the ordinary.

Recently, a man named Gaston had moved into town. Though not widely famous, in this region of France, the name Gaston meant something. Gaston was, in short, a game hunter. But the thing was, he wasn't just any game hunter. He was what every male teen aspired to be – wanted by the ladies, envied by the men of the town, rich, good looking… the list went on.

Only recently (approximately six months ago) had Gaston moved to this small provincial town – and already he had made a name for himself, extending the reaches of his reputation. But why had he stayed?

There was the obvious reason – Gaston had not seen such wonderfully healthy, muscular, fat game anywhere else he had hunted.

And the less obvious reason?

Gaston had seen Belle.

I say "seen" because Gaston had not properly met Belle as of yet. He had seen her in town, observed her, watched carefully. Or not so carefully, because if he had watched her carefully he would have noticed how she had an odd habit of punching people's faces in.

And today Gaston decided to make himself and his intentions known to Belle. You see, it wasn't such a bad idea on the surface – she was acting very kind and civil and being all smiley today. What Gaston didn't realize was that underneath this fair façade lurked the real Belle – partially because he didn't even know there was a different Belle.

As Belle sang, stepping briskly out of the village, Gaston jumped off a roof to try to get in front of her without her noticing.

Unfortunately enough for him, he didn't quite succeed. He hadn't realized that there was a big mud puddle where he was jumping. That is; he didn't see the big mud puddle until he was in it.

It was in this fashion that Belle found herself splashed by a huge, now mud-covered form, who was moaning and groaning at how hard the ground was, and attempting to wipe the mud off of his mouth with an equally mud-covered hand.

Belle stopped in shock, but not for long. In the end, she just stepped around the figure, snapped her book shut, stopped singing and walked home.

Or, she would have walked home, if Gaston hadn't gotten back up and tried to continue with what he'd been planning to do.

"Luna," he said, smiling a particularly muddy smile, "I have watched you from afar for many days-"

"Oh, so you admit to stalking me?"

"-and have been astounded by your wondrous beauty and grace. I would be honored-" but Gaston was cut short, because Belle had walked on and snorted when he said "beauty" and "grace." He was just another guy who wanted to mock her – there were quite a few, to be truthful. They'd all moved, though, so Belle didn't have to worry about them any more.

But then again, she was the reason they moved. Of course, that was a surprise to no one. The other girls of the village, especially the three chestnut –haired "beauties," would have protested the way she scared off all of the "gorgeous men" from "this lovely little village," except they knew that their prospects of ensnaring any of said "gorgeous men" who remained despite Belle would decrease greatly if they lacked eyebrows, or, for that matter, an intact nose. Therefore, they held their tongues and complained with disparaging comments in private, behind Belle's back.

"Please, Luna. Would you care to look at the trophies in the tavern with me?" Gaston, muddy as he was, continued to accost Belle, who obviously didn't want anything to do with him, particularly in this state.

"Gaston," Belle, attempting to salvage the Prank, fluttered her eyelashes and blinked up at him flirtatiously, "I am unworthy. I insist – ask someone else. Please – it would pain me to no end to think that you, primeval deity that you are, would ask me to come look at dead stuffed animals on a wall of a freaking tavern. I am simply undeserving," she finished, snarling, then walked on, wiping off her book as she went.

Men.

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I am the author. Not that you care. But yes, this is the first chapter of a lovely take I got the idea for of Beauty and the Beast... I shall publish it as a reaction to the movie, I suppose. As opposed to a fairytale.

Really though: Ok, the Bimbettes or whatever they are, the three blonde girls who are ditsy, they are now brunette. Feel free to hate me for it. Belle is blonde. This is a reaction to the anti-blonde thing there is, the whole "stupid blonde" thing that absolutely sucks and is a form of prejudice. So now the stupid ones are brunette, not saying that brunettes are stupid, but saying that you really should just drop the stupid physical stereotypes.

Yeah, well. I suppose that's all.