Agustina de Aragón

The beautiful Northern Spanish city of Saragossa had enjoyed over seven hundred years of peace, love and hippie tree-hugger prosperity stretching from the time of El Cid up until the fateful year 1808, when her walls were threatened by the marauding armies of Napoleon Bonaparte’s ever-expanding French Empire.  Napoleon, perhaps suffering from the psychiatric complex that bears his name, had this crazy hard-on to conquer all of Europe (probably just to be a total dickhead to everyone), and one of his primary goals was to force all of Spain and Portugal under whichever one of his little thumbs wasn’t currently shoved inside his coat pocket.  Obviously, the Spanish weren’t too psyched up about capitulating to the fucking French (and who can blame them), so the two nations became embroiled in an incredibly bloody and brutal campaign that would come to be known as the Peninsular War.

But who gives a shit about all that crap.  The point here is that in 1808 the peace-loving city of Saragossa was completely surrounded by arbitrarily-pissed-off Frenchmen with thin, curly-cue waxed handlebar moustaches all eager and willing to slaughter some Spaniards for no good reason at all.  The town had been cut off from supplies and ammunition for weeks, and the defenders of the city were constantly being pounded by artillery and musket fire as Napoleon tried to break their will like an Entenmann’s spokesperson at a Weight Watchers meeting.  Finally, after sixty days of the siege, the French launched a full on balls-to-the-wall invasion of the city, charging the gates like King Arthur’s men in Monty Python and the Holy Grail.  At this point the town was only defended by a small, heavily outnumbered force of volunteer soldiers, and before long the massive horde of Perrier-swigging, wine-connoisseuring Frenchies broke through the city gates like a Frank Sinatra-singing alien chest-burster busting out of an unhappy patron at a crappy intergalactic greasy spoon diner.  Napoleon’s men fell on the artillery positions located just inside the gates like an army of Gerald Fords, and many of the front-line Spanish defenders either ran for their lives or got some up-close and personal hard-hitting interviews with the pointy end of a bayonet.  Within minutes it appeared that the defensive lines had broken, and it was beginning to look more and more like the citizens of Saragossa were going to need to start developing a taste for frog’s legs, rude waiters and trashy uber-trendy fashion magazines with unpronounceable names where anorexically-thin bitches wear see-through shirts and look bored out of their damn skulls all the time.

However, all was not as fucked-up as it seemed.  Amidst all the confusion, smoke, gunfire, and epically graphic strings of Spanish profanity stood a woman known as Agustina de Aragon.  During the initial fighting she had been up on the battlements with the artillerymen, passing out apples, Powerbars and Gatorade to the men to help sustain their fighting spirit and replenish their electrolytes, and doing her part to help defend her city.  However, when she saw all these dudes running away with their panties in a wad shrieking like grade-school girls just because a couple of fucking French dudes were waving knives in their faces, she did what any badass worthy of that moniker would have done – she got really ripshit pissed off and started bashing motherfuckers’ heads together like B.A. Barrackus.  When one of the Spanish cannon crews dropped their gear and bravely ran screaming away from the rampaging French invaders, Agustina de Aragon charged full-speed towards the abandoned gun.  With an entire Company of angry screaming soldiers only a few hundred feet away and rapidly closing in her position, she shoved a canister of black powder and grapeshot into the mussle and packed it down with the ramrod.  Then, right as the French troops was preparing to lunge at her with their bayonets and skewer her like a meat kebab she cooly took a long drag from a cigarette, said something along the lines of, “suck my dick, motherfuckers”, and flicked the lit cigarette into the hatch, sending forth a massive shotgun-blast of metallic spiky death into the enemy from point-blank range.  When the smoke cleared, the bloodthirsty, stab-happy French troops had been reduced to a large pile of dead-ass bitches.

Having effectively proven that she had the biggest balls of anyone in the town (is “ovarian fortitude” the correct terminology here?), Agustina turned and looked over her shoulder at the Spanish soldiers behind her.  The men were all like, “damn, if this chick can kick so much ass all by herself, what the fuck are we doing?”, and immediately rushed back to their positions and began pouring artillery and small-arms fire into the invaders.  Agustina’s inspiring actions pumped up the Spanish more than a live performance of Young MC’s “Bust a Move”, and the Spanish soldiers were able to not only push the French back out of the city, but launch a counter-attack that would force Napoleon to lift the siege of Saragossa.