Welcome To Classic Wrestling (Ep 5)
“Flying High Again” by Ozzy Osbourne hits on the Studio speakers.
The CLASSIC Wrestling splash logo explodes onto your television screen as the music screeches onward at a dizzying pace. Still shots taken from the last two episodes of Classic Wrestling TV rotate across the screen in a dazzling display of audio-visual excellence! A quick flash brings the camera inside of the Classic Wrestling Studio to a crane-shot showing the pristine ring, the iconic television set, and the jam-packed bleachers full of fans placed just on the other side of the ring. The fans do their part to get the show off to a rock solid start by doing what they do best…
Losing their entire minds!
RAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!
As the crowd dies down the camera lands on Otto Price at his podium. He stands poised in a suit and tie, his large round glasses reflect a bit of the light. He smiles and brings the microphone up to his mouth, ready to talk to the camera. .
Price: Welcome ladies and gentlemen to Classic Wrestling here on RBTV! We’re back for another exciting week of action, and basically on the EVE of SLAM-A-THON! Just a few weeks away from Wrestling’s biggest event!
A SLAM-A-THON logo covers the screen briefly as the fans cheer.
Price: We’ve got some big matches planned for you, many of which will be revealed right here tonight! In fact. Not only do we have big announcements, but we’ve got big stars and big matches right here tonight! We’re going to see “All Business” Alex Bruder take on the “Saint” Johnny Saint Nelson in a REAL WORLDS TITLE Tournament Semi Final matchup! That’s going to be our main event of the evening. In addition we’ve got the former Olympian Jack Fargo against The Texan, Gordy Lovett! We’ve got a few exciting Tag Team matchups including a debuting team! We’ve also got another REAL Worlds Title Semifinal matchup with Lord Colossus going one on one with the 2nd generation wrestler Rush Starling!
Otto gets a message in his ear. He pauses and holds up one finger.
Price: Hold on folks I’m getting something…
The fans wait in anticipation.
Price: Actually We’re going to be joined right now by someone new to Classic Wrestling, but not new to the Wrestling sport! The man who will now be the new COMMISSIONER OF CLASSIC WRESTLING! Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome GRIFFIN “GRUFF” MYERS!
Through the curtain comes the wrestling legend. His hair now grey but sporting that same rough tone he’s known for. With a Classic Wrestling polo on and a pair of khakis, he walks over to the podium where he shakes the hand of Otto Price before looking out into the crowd. The crowd applauds and stands up in appreciation of the man who made his mark on the sport 15 years ago.
Moss: What an excellent surprise! What a legend.
Beside him Thunderbird Howley scoffs.
Howley: This guy!?
Moss: What?
Howley: I just can’t believe I didn’t get the job Moss, that’s all!
Price: Gruff, let me be the first to officially welcome you to Classic Wrestling! It’s my understanding you have some things to say!
The fans cheer again before he speaks.
Gruff Myers: Thank you Otto, I’m excited to be here! I got the call from James Dale a few weeks ago and I’ve been following along from home! I appreciate the pleasantries and the warm welcome from the fans but I didn’t come out here for just that reason! I came out here to set some things straight and change some futures!
Moss: Well alright!
Gruff: Now I saw what’s been going on between the likes of Lord Colossus, King Kong Frank, and Gordy Lovett these last few weeks, and I’m here to tell you it stops today. I was brought in to regain some kind of law and order, and I’ll be da***** If I’m going to let the Wrestlers run the locker room!
A couple rowdy fans yell out in appreciation.
Gruff: So I’ve got plans to meet with all three of those individuals as well as those who represent them.
Howley: Who represents Frank!?
Gruff: So I’ll get to the three of them later tonight. My first major announcement is regarding the previously announced 6 man over the top rope Battle Royal at SLAM A THON! The match will be for the Premier American Championship here in Classic Wrestling! ‘Ell I’m here to tell you folks just which competitors will be in the match!
The fans cheer as he pulls a card from his back pocket and lists the names.
Gruff: These six men have proven themselves as worthy competitors here in Classic and ONE of them will walk out champion! Here are the competitors, Vito Valentino Shujin Yama Randall Schwartz Jack Fargo Carlos Ruiz. and Freddy Kilgore!
The fans get very excited at the participants in the match.
Gruff: We’re going to see four of them lock up tonight in a big tag team match. I for one am excited to see how that shakes out!
Price: Of course that’s Shujin Yama and Randall Schwartz taking on Vito Valentino and Carlos Ruiz!
Gruff: That’s right! I got one more piece of business before we get underway however. I’d like to call the Foreign Legion out here right now…
He points at the podium, hitting it hard enough that Otto jumps a bit.
The Tag Team who took the championships last week, claiming them for their own, do not come out.
The fans begin to boo.
Gruff: Let me clarify… If the Foreign Legion don’t get out here IN THE NEXT 20 SECONDS… They can KEEP the Classic Wrestling Tag Team Championships, as SOUVINEERS because they’ll be right back on the unemployment line! I’ve been giving strict authority to do whatever it takes!
The fans get very loud as Foreign Legion come through the curtains. Tag Team titles in hand. They look upset.
Gruff: TICK TOCK BOYS!
He holds out his arms and after a few seconds the foreign legion put the titls on the podium instead. Gruff gets back in front of the mic.
Gruff: That’s better! Now tonight you boys will get a shot at these titles, but it’s against a NEW Tag Team in Classic Wrestling. IF you can beat them… Then you’ll go on to Slam A Thon for a CHANCE to win the titles…. and Boys…. DON’T YOU EVER DO WHAT YOU DID LAST WEEK AGAIN!
Foreign Legion have heard enough and move in towards Gruff, but Gruff starts rolling up his sleeves and steps past the microphone. That’s enough to send the audience into a tizzy, and back of the imposing Tag Team. Eddie Dante pulls them back, thinking better of the situation.
We go to a quick break.
A Little Classic BDSM
We switch to the back, the view passing through a door labeled with the letters BDSM. And you wouldn’t believe the scene inside… or maybe you would. Either way, it’s not every show you see a six foot seven inch, half naked mountain of muscle covered in chocolate. Or, I guess if you’re said man’s tag team partner at Classic Wrestling, you do…
Lunchbox Larry: Uh, Bo-
A stern clearing of the throat from the rotund Bobby Dean, who’s standing in front of a mirror inspecting himself, shakes his head in disapproval, telling Larry to try that again.
Lunchbox Larry: Oh, I mean, Mister… Beautiful?
Dean smiles that megawatt smile of his.
Bobby Dean: What can it be now, buddy? Getting this beautiful doesn’t just happen overnight, you know. And unlike your easy little project over there, I don’t get any helpful manuals.
Chocolate covered Larry appears thoroughly befuddled beside a poorly constructed, if you could even call it that, fondue fountain, that leans practically sideways. You’d literally have to lay down on the ground and just have the chocolate drip into your open mouth.
Lunchbox Larry: Yeah, about that. I, uh… I think I did it wrong.
Bob’s aforementioned smile immediately turns to a scowl. The man’s impressive level of concentration on his reflection breaks, and he slowly turns to see what the hell Larry’s talking about.
The sight of his cherished chocolate fondue set duct taped together in ways unimaginable, next to his tag team partner decorated in his favorite treat, was almost too much. Sheer horror engulfed the usually jovial BBD.
Bobby Dean: What’d you do?!?!? Do you expect me to come over there and lick all that off? Because I won’t! I mean…
You can see Bobby beginning to think about it as Choco-Larry shrugs as innocently as a young kid who just got caught with a hand in the cookie jar.
Lunchbox Larry: The directions were in Chinese, I think, and didn’t make much sense, but I thought I-
A snapped up, extended Bobby hand stops his partner mid sentence once again.
Bobby Dean: What’d I tell you about doing that?
Larry rolls his head and eyes simultaneously.
Lunchbox Larry: The tape is only fo-
Bobby Dean: NO! Not about the tape! About thinking!
Larry’s face scrunches up as he exercises his brain in his best attempt to recall one of the many lessons his elder has imparted upon him since arriving at the arena not long ago.
Lightbulb.
Lunchbox Larry: Thinking shrinks muscles? And that’s all I got going for me?
Half of that smile from before reappears out from the side of Bobby’s mouth.
Bobby Dean: Well, at least we know you have the ability to learn. That’s a start. Just remember, I’m the brains, you’re the brawn! Now, what do we do with all that chocolate…
Larry raises a hand like he’s in grade school and he knows the answer.
…
Bobby licks his lips hungrily.
…
A few awkward moments pass as Larry waits to get called on. Bob, after realizing the man isn’t about to just speak up, nods impatiently.
Lunchbox Larry: Wash it off?
If looks could kill, those would’ve been Larry’s last words.
Bobby Dean: How dare you!
Confusion covers Larry like… melted chocolate, I guess.
Bobby Dean: Wasting such a tasty treat like chocolate, the nectar of Gods? Not an option! One of us is just going to have to get a spoon and get to work. If you won’t, then-
Larry raises a pointer finger.
Lunchbox Larry: But I haven’t even showered yet, anyway.
Two chubby hands cover Bob’s chubby face in disbelief.
Bobby Dean: You tainted the nectar of the Gods with your mortal filth!?!
Still covering his face is disgust, Bobby peeks out between his fingers as a thought strikes him.
Bobby Dean: To be honest, I’ve eaten worse…
Shaking his head violently, and waving his arms like a ref indicating the fourth down was not converted, Larry scrambles to his feet. He knocks the pathetic excuse for a fondue set over as he scurries to the showers, leaving his teammate and mentor left in dismay.
Lord Colossus vs Rush Starling (WTT Semifinal)
The opening roar of “Sirius” by the Alan Parsons Project begins to hum across the Classic Studio. The crowd begins to rise up on their feet cheering as a fog machine does its job pumping out smoke that fills the entrance area.
DUN DUN DUN, DUN DUN DUH!
A white strobe begins to flicker through the thick fog with the beat as Rush Starling walks out to the roar of the fans in attendance.
DUN… DUNN… DUNNN… DUNNNN!
He doesn’t waste time and marches towards the ring, slapping hands with fans and making sure to grab a fan sign of support to wave, rallying the crowd.
Robbins: Making his way to the ring, weighing in at 240 pounds he hails from Allentown, Pennsylvania. This is Rush Starling!
Rush sprints up the steps, slips through the ropes, and immediately mounts the turnbuckle pumping up the crowd. The guitar solo of “Sirius” begins to shred as he points to the fans closest by, giving them warm smiles before he steps down and faces the referee to be checked for combat.
Ripping bass riffs and a brief burst of snare lets the crowd know that “Ace of Spades” by Motorhead is playing. Walter Wehzl pops out from behind the curtain first, to a cavalcade of derision.
This hushes noticeably as Lemmy begins to intone about snake eyes watching you and Lord Colossus steps out. Wehzl points at the big man who is wearing a studded leather vest and armbands over his one-shoulder black wrestling singlet. Blonde curls poke out from under his leather hood under a 1970s style hockey mask. A Black Gorget wraps his throat. He slowly makes his way down to the ring, before handing off his vest and armbands to Wehzl, stepping _over_ the top rope and moving to his appointed corner.
Moss: Well Thunderbird, we’re still reeling from that huge announcement and the debut of Griffin “Gruff” Myers as the Commissioner here at Classic Wrestling!
Howley: [under his breath] *grumble grumble*
Moss: What’s that T-bird?
Howley: I said it’s “great” to have Gruff here in Classic Wrestling, and he’ll surely be a fine addition to the team!
Moss: Something tells me you’re a little salty there, big chief. What’s the deal?
Howley: [flat] Nothing. Can we get on with the show please, Moss? I’m all of a sudden not in the mood for what you call “witty banter.”
Both wrestlers stand solemnly in their respective corners, Lord Colossus doing his usual pre-match stare-down and Rush Starling taking these final short moments to psych himself up to the task at hand. With Walt Whezl uncharacteristically quiet at ringside, the referee calls for the bell.
DING! DING!! DING!!!
Howley: Finally…
Lord Colossus doesn’t move a muscle. Starling steps into the center of the ring, as ready as he’ll ever be. Leery of being drawn into the obvious trap of rushing the giant Colossus, Rush does what only a Starling would do in this situation, he calls the big man out!
Starling: Come on then, big fella, come at me!
Slowly, and with the cadence of a serial killer, Lord Colossus stalks toward the center of the ring to meet the youngest of the Starling clan. Colossus closes the space between them and the two competitors go face to… collarbone…
Moss: Look at the size difference!
Howley: That’s right, Moss, Colossus has nearly a foot on Starling and you can better believe he’s gonna use all of that mass to have his way with Rush Starling tonight!
Moss: Yeah, that’s sort of been his M.O. throughout this entire tournament.
Colossus makes a slow, threatening “cut-throat” taunt that sends the fans at ringside into a tizzy. Rush, getting caught up in the moment, turns and hoots at the crowd, throwing up both hands to the adulation of those same fans terrified of his colossal opponent!
Howley: Well this is a mistake.
And Lord Colossus makes him pay for it, snapping into motion and delivering a clubbing blow to the back and shoulders that sends Rush sprawling toward the ropes. The Towering Titan follows up with another couple of heavy blows before grabbing Rush and whipping him to the opposite ropes. Colossus swings for the fence with a massive clothesline but Rush ducks and hits the ropes again, this time launching himself at Colossus with a high cross body block!
Moss: Look at the aerial mastery on display Thunderbird!
Howley: Bah, in my day we didn’t bother with any of that flip fly and flop nonsense…
It’s for nought, however, as Colossus catches Rush the way a toddler would catch a wiffle ball. The Monolithic Monstrosity stumbles backward with Starling up in a precarious position and ends up dumping the smaller man over the top ropes to keep himself from going over as well. Starling, to his credit, shows excellent awareness by managing to keep himself from going completely backside-over-tea-kettle and landing in the least painful way possible when being thrown by a seven foot tall lunatic.
Moss: Lord Colossus is insane! He could have killed Rush Starling!
Howley: I’m pretty sure that’s the point, Moss!
Rush backs away as Colossus steps over the rope and drops down from the apron. Rush lets the larger opponent get close before taking off at a dead sprint around the ringpost. As he’s just about to slide into the ring he looks back over his shoulder expecting to see a chasing giant, but there is no Colossus behind him as the big man only now begins stalking around ringside.
Moss: Wow! We saw Randall Schwartz get the better of Colossus just last week with a similar ploy but it looks like the giant has it nice and scouted this week!
Howley: You know the saying, Moss! Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice and get thrown into an active volcano!
Moss: Get all the way out with that!
Howley: What? I’m almost positive that’s how I heard Colossus explaining it to Whezl back in the locker room!
By the time Rush figures out that he’s fallen for a trap it’s too late. He dives under the bottom rope just in time for Colossus to catch a vice grip on one of Rush’s ankles before yanking him right back out and to the floor! The referee re-starts his count at one as Colossus goes on the attack by picking Rush up and throwing him back-first into the ring-apron.
Moss: THAT’S THE HARDEST SURFACE OF THE RING!
Colossus continues to dominate Starling with a series of clubbing blows ratcheting up in intensite as the referee does his slow, deliberate count! Walt Whezl stays just out of the blast zone at ringside as he watches his Walking Apocalypse lay the leather to Rush Starling all the way to the last possible moment before the ref calls ten and throws the match out.
Howley: You know, I’m still not sure whether Colossus is calling the shots or if Walt Whezl is pulling the strings, but this expert manipulation of the referee’s count is just the kind of smart strategy that you wouldn’t expect from a hulking monster like Lord Colossus! I can’t help but respect that!
Back inside and Colossus continues the assault for another couple of minutes, taking his time to inflict as much punishment as possible. After a bit, Starling gets in a couple of shots to the mid-section, enough for hope to flicker in his eye, but Lord Colossus ain’t havin’ any of that and he cuts it off in a hurry with a double axe-handle smash to the back that flattens Starling.
“HUSS!”
Howley: What was that, Moss?
“HUSS!”
“HUSS!”
Howley: Not this lunatic! WE’VE GOT A TOURNAMENT MATCH GOING ON!
Moss: It’s King Kong Frank!
Howley: If I know Gruff Myers, and BELIEVE ME I KNOW GRUFF MYERS, he ain’t gonna stand for this hillbilly idiot running around causing a riot everywhere he turns!
Moss: Speaking of riots…
“YEEEEE-HAAAAAAAW!”
Gordy Lovett is out right behind King Kong Frank! The action inside the ring comes to a dead stop with Lord Colossus cocking his head inquisitively down at the action at ringside while absent-mindedly releasing Rush Starling from his chaotic clutches. On the other side of the ring Walt Whezl is apoplectic, stalking around the corner-posts toward the two big burly beef-slappers distracting his giant from the task at hand.
Howley: You’d better take cover, Moss, it’s about to get physical out here in a hurry!
Gordy grabs Frank by the shoulder and whips the burly brawler around just in time to catch a wild haymaker right upside the noggin! Lovett responds in kind and the two big beef slappers start slapping big beef right down in between the ring and the commentary desk!
Moss: IT’S PANDA BEAR LINOLEUM, THUNDERBIRD!
Howley: Do you mean “pandamonium?”
Lord Colossus watches the fight unfold in front of him. Meanwhile Rush Starling has managed to get his wits about him just enough to put a plan together! He reaches up and grabs Colossus, applying every bit of torque and scientific know-how that he can muster to bring the big man backwards and down into a schoolboy roll-up!
Moss: Wait a tick!
Howley: What? NO!
The referee, as always, is quickly in position to slap the mat!
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
DING! DING! DING!
Moss: Rush Starling has done it! He’s given Lord Colossus his first loss here in Classic Wrestling!
Howley: I can’t believe this, Moss! WHERE’S GRUFF MYERS?!
It’s right here that things start getting out of hand. Walt Whezl has blown his entire lid, screaming and yelling and brandishing his umbrella about in the broadest of manners. Doris Hilton has made her way out to stand between Whezl and the fight going on between Gordy Lovett and King Kong Frank that has now found its way into the ring. Rush Starling, unnaturally aware of his surroundings, finds just the right gap in the chaos to bail. Lord Colossus gets to his feet and bellows, enraged at being cost his proper spot atop the mountain as the Real World’s Champion! Just as Colossus is about to engage both Frank and Gordy the referee jumps in front of him and starts waving his arms like a wild man!
DING!! DING!! DING!!
Moss: It’s about to break down in there Thunderbird?
Howley: About to? Are we watching the same donnybrook?
King Kong Frank flattens Gordy Lovett with a straight headbutt just as Lord Colossus goozles the referee and lifts him up teen feet into the air.
Moss: Here comes Gruff! And from the looks of things he’s rounded up a posse!
Gruff starts barking orders with no need for a microphone! His voice booms over the buzz of the audience, the shrill voices of Whezl and Hilton, and the bedlam inside of the ring.
Gruff: PUT THAT REFEREE DOWN!
The grizzled former ring general strides up the steps and right into the fray! Gordy Lovett scrambles to his feet just in time to be backed down by Gruff’s stony glare, and as King Kong Frank turns his attention to Lord Colossus, who has only just released the referee, Gruff grabs Frank by the overalls and with a mighty swing tosses the Smoky Mountain Mastodon up and over the top ropes to the floor.
Howley: Yep, that Gruff don’t take no guff from NOBODY! That much I can personally attest to…
Lord Colossus takes a neutral step backward, seeing no reason to engage with a man so clearly intent on flexing his authority for all to see. At the behest of Doris Hilton Gordy Lovett steps backward through the ropes to the apron, and an enraged King Kong Frank finds his footing and snarls up into the ring where Gruff Myers cows the Hillbilly Hellraiser with a single pointed finger.
Gruff: Now Frank I’ve known you since you was knee high to a grasshopper! You know I used to rassle your daddy back in the 70s and you know good and well that I’ll whip your big behind if you don’t bring it down a few notches!
This does not sit well with Frank.
But.
He doesn’t push his luck.
Gruff: Now you go on an’ git! An’ I better not see you out here again until your REGULARLY SCHEDULED MATCH! You understand?
King Kong Frank stares up at his new boss in defiance. A tense moment passes as Frank decides on whether or not this is a hill worth dying on as an entire battalion of Riot Gear clad security types flood the studio around him.
Moss: We’ve got to cut to break!
Howley: What? We can’t cut to-
Abruptly, the feed cuts away to a commercial for non-filtered cigarettes and malt liquor.
===
Commercial
===
We’re back from commercial break. The chaos has subsided and the ringside area has been cleared save for The Texas Stampede Gordy Lovett, standing center ring with a microphone clutched in his cow punchin’ hand. Doris has materialized at his side, arms crossed, lips pursed, narrowed eyes scanning the crowd.
Gordy: WEEEEEEEEEEELL WE’RE BACK ON TRACK, AIN’T WE DORIS?! Ol’ Gordy Lovett’s exactly where Gordy Lovett SHOULD BE which is right here… under these here big ol’ lights, in front of these here television cameras, in this here ring holdin’ all these folks attention. After rompin’ and stompin’ all them fellers outta here! BECAUSE OL’ GORDY’S THE BIGGEST, MEANEST, COW PUNCHIN’ S.O.B. TO EVER LACE ‘EM UP! This here little lady gathered me up and she done aimed me like a rifle RIIIIIGHT at Classic Wrasslin’… took a little oilin’, little tender lovin’ care… but I’m finally priiiiiimed and ready to get me that there Real World’s title…
Doris nods along, pride in her eyes that her charge has finally found his sea leg at long last.
Gordy: AHHHHHHHHHHH don’t give two turtle dumps who’s holdin’ that sucker at the end of the day either. Besides becomin’ CHAMPEEEEN ol’ Gordy’s got a few things to suss up now that he’s done got his head on straight. FIRSTLY that two ton stack of leather and DAWG FECES Lord Colossus has a dang ol’ RECEIPT comin’ his way fer’ catchin’ The Stampede sleepin’… I’mma get that loss BACK, you S&M lookin’ FREAK! And as for you, FRANK…
The big bad Texan chuckles to himself and smoothes out the front of his brand new “GORDY LOVETT: COW PUNCHER” t-shirt… now on sale at your nearest merch stand.
Gordy: I got this funny feelin’ you and me is juuuuust gettin’ started, you appalachian IJIT! I swear, you people give rednecks a BAD NAME, lemme tell you what! If’n you can quit sniffin’ yer’ cousins panties fer ten seconds, hoss, you and me? ANY TIME, ANY PLACE, WHATEVER KIND A DANG OL’ MATCH YOU CAN COME UP WITH! Ol’ Gordy ain’t a’scared of no barefoot, inbred HILLBILLY, NO SIR!
The Stampede hands off the microphone to his manager. Doris looks towards the entrance curtain.
Doris: Let’s try not to lose sight of the matter at hand! Back there in the back ladies and gentleman is a scaaaaaared little Olympian… well, a third place Olympian anyway. Both he and my client stand with a record of one win and one loss. A precarious place for any competitor. The razor’s edge for a rising star… and regrettable afterthought. I’ve made it VERY clear to my client that if he doesn’t start producing results… well, suffice to say his home life gets far more complicated. So the proverbial fire is lit under his keister, Mr. Fargo… What about YOU, dear? This man is fighting for his HOME…
Gordy snatches back the microphone with fire in his eyes. Doris smiles… obviously knowing exactly what buttons to push to get her client primed and ready to fight.
Gordy: ENOUGH GOL-DERN JAWIN’… GET THAT LITTLE NORTH DAKOTA DINGUS OUT HERE TO TAKE HIS DANG OL’ MEDICINE, MAN! I’MMA RIP THAT BOAH IN TWAIN, BAH GAWD!
Gordy Lovett vs Jack Fargo
Howley: Gordy’s not leaving the ring. He’s ready to fight.
Moss: Well here comes Fargo.
The docile tones of folk legend John Prine’s “Pretty Good” soft rock the arena. A single spotlight focuses on the curtain where a slightly tanned average looking dark haired muscular fella in a baby blue college style wrestling singlet, with a bronze metal painted on each side, walks calmly from the back. It is Bronze Fargo former all American wrestler and Bronze metal winner. In his hand is a box of Wheaties with his picture on it.
The crowd greets him with a mild smattering of indifference. He claps in tune to the music then raises his arms up to the crowd trying to egg them on to joining him. They basically do not, as he walks calmly to the ring. Before entering he pulls a sharpie from behind his well-groomed hair and signs the box before handing it to some little kid at ring side who seems somewhere between disinterested and confused.
Fargo does some stretching before getting ready for the contest. He waves to the crowd who are mostly getting popcorn then shakes hands with the ring announcer and ref. He talks briefly with the referee about the weather as the ref checks Fargo for weapons which the ref does not find. Bronze Fargo gives his ear a tug as a symbol of love to his wife Wendy, and newborn son Larry. The Ref quickly Checks both men for foreign objects before signaling for the bell.
Ding Ding Ding.
The bell rings and a clearly fired up Gordy ambushes Fargo from the offset. Gordy backs him into the corner and begins lands a series of lefts and rights to Fargo’s midsection. Fargo blocks several of them but eventually the ref steps in and breaks the two up. Fargo presses forward as Lovett grabs him by the waist and lifts him off the ground. Squeezing the air from Fargo.
Moss: Gordy looking to take the wind out of Fargo’s sails.
Howley: Not his sails. His soul.
Arms flailing, Fargo slams an elbow to the top of Gordy’s head, but it’s not enough to break the hold.
Moss: Fargo Fighting back.
Then another. But still Gordy holds on.
Howley: Hold on Gordy… break all of his ribs!
Finally an elbow causes Gordy to lose his grip.
Moss: Fargo Escapes. It wasn’t looking too good for him right there.
Howley: Lucky break.
Fargo clutches his rib cage as Gordy shakes the cobwebs out. Gordy goes to grab Fargo but misses as Fargo side steps. With the quickness Fargo kicks the back of Gordy’s knee, and runs the ropes. With his arm fully extended Fargo levels his opponent. Then runs the opposite rope and goes for a quick elbow drop. Gordy rolls out of the way. Fargo lands on the mat, and writhes in pain grasping at his ribs.
Moss: Gordy was just a step ahead on that one as Fargo looks like he’s not in a good place.
It takes both men a while to get to their feet. Fargo is a second behind Gordy and is met with a boot to the ribs. Then another one for good measure. Sensing the blood in the water Gordy stomps over to the opposite corner and begins stomping his foot on the mat. The crowd begins to boo loudly as Gordy continues and quickens the pace. Fargo uses the nearest ropes to pull himself up.
Gordy rushes at Fargo setting him up for his patented Football Tackle.
Howley: Turn him inside ouuuuuuu….
Fargo leaps over Gordy and shoves him into the corner face first.
Howley: Watch Out Gordy!
Fargo leaps on the back of Gordy and locks in the Plainfield Paralyzer.
Moss: It doesn’t look like he’s got it fully locked in.
Howley: How could he? With all the damage to his ribs tonight.
Gordy fights off the attack and backs Fargo into the corner backwards, driving all the air out of Fargo. Gordy grabs his neck and is thankful that he was able to free himself. Fargo once again goes for a kick to the knee of Gordy. Taking him down to a knee.
Moss: Two can play the wear an opponent down.
Howley: Cheap shots, and undermined tactics!
Fargo climbs to the middle rope and waits for Gordy to turn around. As Gordy turns Fargo leaps. Gordy catches Fargo.
Moss: Looks like Gordy is going to end this!
Fargo kicks his legs, as Gordy slams Fargo’s back into the turnbuckle, and as he turns his knee gives way as Fargo falls to the mat. Gordy grabs his knee. Fargo claws his way to his feet, at the same time Gordy leans himself in the corner.
Moss: Both men are absolutely worn out right now, it’s just a matter of who is going to grab a hold of the one simple mistake.
Fargo arms a shoulder into the midsection of Gordy. Then another, and then a third. Fargo climbs and holds a fist up to the cheering of the crowd. One punch to the face of Gordy.
Crowd: ONE!
Crowd: TWO!
Crowd:THREE!
Crowd: FO….
Gordy blocks the fourth punch and knocks Fargo’s feet off of the ropes, but before he could land on the mat, Gordy picked him out of the air.
Moss: Incredible strength shown by Gordy.
Howley: Night Night Fargo!
One quick bashing of Fargo’s back on the top turnbuckle and Gordy’s knee holds up as he slams Fargo hard on the mat. Gordy hooks both legs.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
The bell rings after the signal from the referee.
Robbins: Ladies and Gentlemen your winner by Pinfall… GORDY LOVETT!
He rolls out of the ring to a chorus of Boos from the crowd who were cheering on Fargo. He grabs his things from ringside and threatens a couple fans.
Howley: When that Texan get’s angry it’s one thing Moss, but when Doris gets angry? Watch out!
Moss: Gordy Lovett victorious here tonight at the Classic Wrestling Studio!
Nothing Gunna Stop Us
Moss: Ladies and gentleman, I’m being told at this time that we’re going to throw it over to our esteemed colleague Otto Price. Otto?
Classic’s perennial stick man, Otto Price, stands at the interview area of the Classic Wrestling Studio. Smiling into the camera, he raises his free arm wide while holding his mic to his mouth with the other.
Price: Everyone, a round of applause for my guest at this time… earlier in the broadcast, we announced him as one of the six participants in the upcoming battle royal to crown a FIRST EVER Premier American Champion. Ladies and gentlemen… the incomparable… “FERAL!” FREDDY! KILGORE!!!
The opening guitar riffs of Motley Crew’s “Wild Side” echo throughout the arena as the fans rise to their feet! With some nifty orange lights flashing, Freddy Kilgore, dressed in full wrestling attire, appears at the entranceway. He is not alone, however: with her arms wrapped around his neck and catching a ride on his muscular back is his main squeeze: “Wild” Kat Diamond. Kilgore pauses, nodding his head along with Motley Crew as he lets Kat dismount. He puts his arm around her and points to something in the fans and she nods and smiles. Kilgore raises her beautiful hand for one last round of applause before each of them make their way over to Price.
Moss: These fans certainly giving it up for Freddy Kilgore!
Howley: And that Wild Kat ain’t half bad on the eyes either, Moss.
Kilgore dashes up the unsuspecting Classic announcer, running circles around him as he spins to try to keep track of the wild man. Kat sidles up as Kilgore finally takes position next to Otto as his theme begins to die out. Kilgore continues to point into the people and get them riled up even as Otto switches into professional interviewer mode.
Price: Freddy Kilgore! Earlier tonight, we…
Kilgore’s eyes go wide and he explodes in a burst of barely contained energy.
Kilgore: LET ME STOP YOU RIGHT THERE, OTTO-MAAAAAAAN!
Kilgore rolls his tongue around like a crazy person as the fans cheer his signature intense promo style.
Kilgore: You hear that, baby? You hear what it sounds like with an arena full of WILD HEARTS unleashing on Classic Wrestling? Listen, Otto – listen!
Kilgore rears back, and off mic, unleashes a wolf-life hooooooooooowwwwwl. Wild Kat does the same. In response, the arena hooooooowwwwwls back. For a moment, the camera cuts from the set to catch a front row young fan – maybe seven or eight – with his face painted like a little Freddy Kilgore. He’s howling his little heart out. Back to the interview.
Kilgore: THAT’S IT, MAN. THAT’S THE STUFF. THIS IS WHAT I LIVE FOR, BABY!!
Kilgore slaps his own head a few times.
Kilgore: When the sun rose this morning, and I opened my eyes… I looked over at the beautiful Wild Kat, and I said… “baby. Do you feel that?” And she did! She felt the electricity in the air. Goosebumps. And we know that today was special. We knew that we were gonna head down to the Classic Arena and make a splash. Now I know, Otto-bot, that you’re gonna ask Papa Wild Thang about the future. And that’s all well and good… except Freddy Kilgore has always believed that you can’t look to the future until you understand your past, you hear me?
Kilgore looks directly into the camera.
Kilgore: RUSH STARLING!
A pop from the crowd for the Classic Wrestler!
Kilgore: Freddy Kilgore doesn’t run his mouth idly and I stand by much of what I said. You are a young man. You have miles to go before you’re… seasoned. And you do feel the weight of your legacy, Rush. But last week… you proved something to Papa Wild Thang.
Kilgore nods, still looking into the lens.
Kilgore: You proved that in your chest beats the heart of a warrior. You proved that you have what it takes to go toe-to-toe with the greats and triumph! And you WILL be a great wrestler someday… and someday soon! I want you to hear from me, baby: Freddy Kilgore would be honored to call you our World’s Champion.
The crowd cheers for good sportsmanship!
Kilgore: And I want ALL OF CLASSIC WRESTLING TO LISTEN UP: if anybody has a problem with Rush Starling…. THEN YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THE APEX PREDATOR, BABY! CAUSE PAPA WILD THANG HAS GOT RUSH’S BACK!
Another cheer – this time for babyface friendship! Kilgore looks back to Otto Price.
Kilgore: Now as for the battle royal, Otto-tune… what you’re telling me is: Freddy Kilgore has a chance at a championship. Freddy Kilgore is in a match with five other warriors. Freddy Kilgore is in a match that is known for being unpredictable. For being explosive. For being chaotic. For being… wild.
Kilgore smiles.
Kilgore: THAT’S BLOOD IN THE WATER, BABY! AND YOU’RE LOOKING AT ONE DAMN HUNGRY SHARK! WHEN I ROLL INTO THE PAY PER VIEW, IT’S GONNA BE LIKE A TORNADO, OTTO-PARK. I’M GONNA TEAR THROUGH FIVE OTHER GUYS AND YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO FIND WHAT’S LEFT OF ‘EM WHEN I’M DONE! CAUSE YOU SEE… I AIN’T COMING ALONE. I’M GOING WITH WILD KAT…
He motions to Diamond, who tosses her hair back, smirks, and raises her eyebrows three times in quick succession.
Kilgore: I’M COMING WITH OTTO-CLUB!!
Freddy slaps Otto Price on the back and he stumbles a bit, nearly dropping his mic.
Price: Careful!
Kilgore: … but most of all …
Kilgore motions around the entire arena as the fans begin to buzz, sensing where this is going…
Kilgore: …I’M COMING WITH EACH AND EVERY ONE OF MY WILD HEARTS! YOUNG AND OLD! BIG AND SMALL! AIN’T NOTHING GONNA STOP US!!!!
With that,he jumps from the interview area to the front row, where he stands in front of the fans and gives another HOWL from the bottom of his toes. The fans howl back in response, and Kilgore jumps the barricade and begins to high five the fans as they crowd around the larger than life superstar.
Otto Price: Freddy Kilgore is ready… like only he can be. Back to you guys!
Foreign Legion vs BDSM (Tag Team Title Qualifier)
“You’re the Best” by Joe Esposito
Lunchbox Larry and Bobby Dean walk to the ring, obviously. With their music playing, obviously. Larry enters first; it takes Bobby a little more time to climb those damn steps. But once in the ring, Bobby plays to the crowd while Larry stands in his corner fidgeting nervously. Every now and then he’ll offer an awkward wave.
Moss: Here’s our newest tag team in Classic Wrestling, One is a ring veteran, the other is a rookie to the sport! Getting a huge opportunity right here to qualify for the Classic Wrestling Tag Team Title Match.
“New World Symphony, 4th Movement” by Antonin Dvorak
Through the curtain comes the imposing duo of Mushigahara and Leon Van Zandt. Beside them is their manager Eddie Dante. They waste no time and head straight for the ring. Already upset about earlier events in the night they climb in and begin fighting right away. Attacking their opponents from behind!
Howley: Woah! Well here we go!
Moss: Harrold Robbins didn’t even get a chance to speak! The winners of this match go onto SLAM A THON to face The Amazing Amarettos for a chance to become the VERY FIRST Tag Team Champions here in Classic.
The bell rings and Mushigahara clubs on the back of Bobby Dean who doubles over and falls through the ropes right away, leaving the large but untested Lunchbox Larry in the ring with both members of the Foreign Legion. They both start dropping forearms on him while Official Felipe Chicoda tries to restore order. Finally he’s able to push Mushigahara to his corner, and we’re underway with Leon Van Zandt vs Lunchbox Larry.
LVZ picks up a sore Larry and then slams him back onto the mat with a body slam. Larry arches his back in pain.
Howley: How many matches has this kid had exactly there Moss?
Moss: Well he’s had a couple in some smaller wrestling events but nothing on a stage this size Thunderbird! He’s a rookie!
Howley: So… He’s about to get his butt kicked. Got it.
Van Zandt slaps on a rear chinlock and wraps his legs around Lunchbox. Felipe checks to see if LL wants to give it up. He shakes his head as much as he can within the hold. He reaches out to Bobby Dean, when the camera switches over to Bobby, he’s waving at Larry and smiling. He gives him a big thumbs up and looks to the crowd.
Moss: Larry appears to be asking for Help, but his tag partner letting him figure it out on his own!
Howley: Classic Veteran move!
Larry does work his way to his feet but Leon holds onto the hold and doesn’t release. Larry instead backs him into the turnbuckle to get him to let go. After two slams the hold is released, Lunchbox gives him one more for good measure. The crowd applauds and tries to get behind Larry. He takes a few steps out of the turnbuckle and turns around towards LVZ and runs at him. Van Zandt slips out at the last second and Larry crashes against the turnbuckle chest first before falling backwards.
Moss: Ohhh just missed!
Bobby Dean winces in the corner. LVZ makes a tag to Mushigahara.
Howley: Uh Oh! Here comes the big man!
Mushi steps over the top rope and comes in and leg drops Larry and hooks a leg.
ONE!
TWO!
Bobby Dean sticks one leg through the rope and considers breaking up the pin before pulling his leg back.
Moss: Kickout from Lunchbox Larry! Mushigahara now waisting no time, he picks up his opponent and hooks him for a suplex! He lift…NO! Larry reverses and lands on his feet. He hits Mushigahara now with one right hand! Two righ…he’s a house of fire Thunderbird!
Larry hits him a 5th time and knocks Mushigahara into the ropes. It’s an opening and one he needs. He turns and dives towards his corner for the tag!
But Bobby Dean isn’t there!
Larry lands facefirst with a splat in his own corner, and looks up. Bobby Dean is signing an autograph for a particularly good looking woman in the front row. He looks over and locks eyes with his partner and realizes what he missed.
Bobby Dean: I’m coming buddy! Here we go…
Dean slowly makes his way up the ring steps but it’s too late. Mushigahara grabs the legs of Lunchbox and pulls him back to the middle of the ring. Bobby Dean holds two fingers near one another.
Bobby Dean: THAT CLOSE!
Moss: Larry can’t catch a break!
Howley: But Bobby Dean might later!
Mushigahara yells out how they should be the Tag Team Champions and the fans boo back. He grabs both legs of Larry and flips him onto his back. Larry puts both feet together and kicks Mushi off sending him off the ropes. On the return he Monkey Flips him onto the mat.
Moss: Nice reversal by Lunchbox! Both big men get up to their feet. Mushigahara goes for a big boot, but misses by a mile when Larry ducks. Mushi is off balance. He wanders over to the wrong corner. Bobby Dean is once again looking out to the crowd. Dean puts both hands up in a pose, and accidentially hits Mushigahara in the back of the head. It stumbles him even more and Lunchbox grabs him and falls backwards.
Moss: O’Conner Roll! Lunchbox Larry has the pin! LVZ is coming!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
LVZ is just a fraction too late! Eddie Dante on the outside is beside himself. Bobby Dean dances a bit before stepping through the ropes to grab his tag partner.
Robbins: Your winners by Pinfall! Bobby Dean and SOME MAN!
Moss: It’s a big night for BDSM!
Howley: Woah! TMI Moss, T.M.I.
Moss: Bobby Dean and Lunchbox Larry move onto SLAM A THON to face The Amazing Amarettos for the Classic Wrestling Tag Team Champions.
Robots and Glasses
On an empty soundstage, we know not where are two large azaleas, and between them two chairs facing each other.
On one chair is Craig Massey. On the other is Scott Hunter.
Both men are silhouetted in shadow as the instrumental to Bonnie Tyler’s “Holding Out For a Hero” plays. Hunter makes a little gesture with his hands, and the lights slowly come up.
Massey: Now what?
Hunter: Dammit Massey, your lines!
Massey: Oh, right. Um, last week my… (he struggles to read the paper in his hand) …”SUPREMELY TALENTED” and very handsome friend, Scott Hunter lost his first match here in Classic Wrestling. Tonight, he will explain to everyone just why… (he struggles again) … he is still the future of the sport and Lieutenant Commander Geordi La-vette is a dirty Texan with bad hygiene habits. (He lowers the paper) Really? Bad hygiene? Is that true?
Hunter: I saw a family of crab lice in his mustache. That’s almost never okay.
Massey: I see.
Hunter: What I’d like to do is show everyone a videotape of what REALLY happened last week. JAMES!!
Hunter claps a hand and a picture-in-picture pops onto the screen. We can clearly see Craig Massey dressed in a ridiculous cowboy costume, with spurs, sequins, and a little Sheriff’s star on his chest.
Massey: (gasping) Oh my God…. I thought this was just for us…. I don’t think I want to be here for this.
With that, Massey stands up, preparing to walk away. Hunter stands and bellows in his general direction.
Hunter: YOU SHALL WITNESS THE BATTLE, OLD MAN! ~~~ I MEAN ~~~ I cherish our time together. Please, sit.
(Hunter gestures to the chair and Massey stands there staring for a moment, then slowly retakes his seat. Hunter sits down as well.)
Massey: Honestly, I thought you said that tape was only for our bros on our intramural basketball team.
Hunter: (Irritated) You’re right, it is. But those bros are my bros, not yours. From this point forward, I forbid you from liking anything I like.
Massey: Yeah, you can’t do that.
Hunter: Oh, I can. Starting now, stay away from the following Scott Hunter trademark hobbies and interests: Globetrotters, karate, Bo staff, Air Jordans, competitive kiting, extreme BMXing, hot showers, conga lines, and diving into an icy river with a knife in your mouth. I own that move. I also claim skittles and soda.
Massey: (taken aback) You can’t claim an entire genre of beverage. That’s madness!
Hunter: And it’s mine! I also own roller skating, eating chili, half and full nelsons, Chuck Norris, and boobs.
Massey: No! That’s too far. You can’t claim boobs. Everyone likes boobs.
Hunter: Have fun sticking to your dumb hobbies like robots and glasses.
Massey: (Instinctively pushing his glasses up on his nose. Glasses aren’t a hobby. They’re a corrective accessory to combat my wandering eyeball.
Hunter: Exactly! You stay in your lame nerdy world, and I’ll stay in my awesome one. Anyway, you’ve distracted me enough. This is about Geordi La-vette. I don’t care if he was awesome on Reading Rainbow. This travesty will not stand. I want another shot at that sloppy unfilled jelly donut. And I will pound my hands into his face until he cries on John Wayne’s grave over what a failure he has become.
Massey: Why don’t you just learn from it and prepare for whoever your next opponent might be?
Hunter: (Shaking his head disapprovingly) You are a stupid person.
Massey: Okay. How will you make this happen, then?
Hunter: I may have suffered a loss at the hands of that blubbery overcooked brisket, but it’s like Chicago once sang, I’m a man. Does he think punching cows is intimidating? Why would I care if he wants to punch HIS MOTHER or not??
Hunter smiles, very satisfied with his joke. Massey just shakes his head.
Hunter: I will have my revenge, and then I will go on to the career of greatness I’m destined for. Then, I’ll retire at thirty-eight because I’m realistic and I know these looks won’t last. So I’ll start a super popular fashion store in the mall for hip teenagers called “Scott Topic”, and then BOOM! I retire to a beach mansion in Kokomo without you.
Massey blinks, then shakes this whole thing off
Massey: Great. Well, at least you have a plan.
Hunter nods smugly as the lights slowly go back down, and “Holding Out For a Hero” plays again.
FADE OUT.
King Kong Frank vs “Fenderbender” Jones
Back again from commercial break and Fenderbender Jones is already in the ring. The journeyman grappler does a few last minute stretches to be as ready as possible for the onslaught he’s about to attempt to weather.
Howley: Fenderbender Jones is about to be in for a rough night at the office…
Moss: Oh?
Howley: I saw Frank earlier this afternoon, and I can tell you that the Smoky Mountain Mastodon was not, is not, and ain’t gonna be in a good mood here tonight!
Moss: Is he ever?
Howley: This is different.
🎜Stranglehold🎝
“HOOOOOOOOO-AAAAAAAAAH!!! HUSS!”
King Kong Frank erupts into the ringside area with violence dripping from his pores. His trusty length of chain is nowhere to be seen tonight and his general theatrics at a bare minimum. The Appalachian Nightmare is in no mood for any bullshit this evening as he climbs up onto the ring apron and then steps over the top rope like it’s nothing.
Robbins: And the opponent-
Frank: HUSS!
The Hillbilly Apocalypse barks at the ring announcer and stalks past him directly across the ring and toward Fenderbender Jones. Harold Robbins barely found the wherewithal to dive out of the ring before becoming a case of human collateral damage! The referee hesitates slightly but calls for the bell.
DING! DING!! DING!!!
Howley: Jones is about to die.
Moss: HERE WE GO!
The smaller, more agile Jones does his best to sidestep the oncoming chaos that is King Kong Frank, and he’s almost successful. Almost, however, only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, and King Kong Frank doesn’t often miss. He grabs Jones by the head and shoulders and manhandles him around toward the center of the ring where he pushes with the fury of a thousand exploding stars until he backs Jones over the ring ropes.
Frank: HUSS!
And then he caves in Jones’ chest with an overhand chop from his catcher’s mitt of a hand. Every fan in the studio winces in pain as Fenderbender struggles for oxygen. Frank barks at him again and again before turning and just chunking him face first into the top turnbuckle.
Howley: Ya know, I almost feel bad for Fenderbender here…
Moss: You absolutely do not!
Howley: Yeah, when you’re right, you’re right.
Frank grabs him by the back of the head, rares back, and smashes him right back into the turnbuckle again! Jones tries to escape but Frank grabs him again and walks him down the length of the ropes before launching him face first again into the next turnbuckle as well!
Moss: This isn’t a wrestling match Thunderbird, it’s a mauling!
Howley: You’re right, Moss! Jones is on DREAM STREET!
Frank clubbers at him a few more times over the back and shoulders before whipping the opponent across the ring at the ropes and then catching him with a big ol’ calloused bare foot to the face on the return!
Frank: HUSS! HUSS! HUSS!
The fans in attendance get it on the action too.
“HUSS! HUSS! HUSS!”
Frank grabs him like a sack of manure, straight lifting Jones up from the mat into an awkward position over his massive shoulders before parading around the ring for a moment and then sending him down hard, back first, right in front of the corner nearest the podium and the commentation station at ringside.
Moss: That had to hurt! Frank’s gonna put his man in traction if he keeps this up!
The barefoot brawler stands up and howls.
The Classic Connoisseurs in the studio are going bananas!
Frank steps back over the ropes to the apron before haphazardly climbing the turnbuckles and hurling himself off the top ropes before he can lose his balance and fall,and he lands a knee across Fenderbender’s chest that drives the rest of the air and any of the fight right out of the man! He is literally a grease stain on the mat at this point.
Howley: MKD!!!
Moss: MOUNTAINTOP KNEE DROP!
Howley: Somebody get a spatula out here so we can scrape this kid off the mat!
The referee is quickly in position for the count, but it’s all academic and everybody in the ring, in the studio, and watching along at home knows it.
One…
Two…
THREE!!!
DING! DING! DING!
Moss: What an impressive victory!
Howley: I mean I guess. Fenderbender Jones isn’t exactly Lord Colossus ya know!
Moss: If I’m being honest, I’m not sure it makes much of a difference to Frank.
Howley: Facts.
Frank stands up and hoots, taking a moment to grab Jones and chuck him from the ring like a sack of manure. Harold Robbins at ringside goes into his announcement.
Robbins: YOUR WINNER-
But Frank ain’t havin’ any of that. He reaches down a massive hand and plucks the microphone out of Robbins’ hand like one would take a lolly from a baby. Harold Robbins doesn’t protest, not one little bit.
Frank: SHADDAP YA DAMN HIPPY! They all got eyes, they saw who won!
A whoop from the crowd goes up and a crowd chant picks up some momentum.
“KING! KONG! FRANK!”
“KING! KONG! FRANK!”
“KING! KONG! FRANK!”
Frank: GORDY BAH-GAWD LOVETT! GIT YER DAIRY-FARMIN’ BEHIND OUT HERE!
A moment passes.
No Gordy Lovett.
This incenses the Appalachian Nightmare.
Frank: What’s the matter BAWH? If’n ya SCARED then say ya SCARED!
Frank starts to pace, the bad intent radiating off of him like stink on a turd.
Frank: I SAID GIT YER YELLA-BELLIED BACKSIDE OUT HERE!
What he gets instead of Gordy Lovett is the grim facade of Gruff Myers. Still without a microphone Gruff bellows his gravelly voice at Frank.
Gruff: Now that’s about enough of that, Frank!
Frank: Where is he? You tell’at ugly son-of-a-
Gruff: I ain’t your errand boy, Frank, and I ain’t in the habit of passin’ messages back and forth between two grown ass men that have a mind to trade hands’! On that note, what I’m here to tell YOU is if YOU lay another hand on Gordy Lovett before you get a sanctioned match against him I’m gonna be forced by the commission to SUSPEND you from Classic Wrestling!
Frank: WHAT?! He put his dang hands on ME! I was just gonna-
Gruff: You were about to interfere in a tournament match, Frank, and I can’t have that! We ain’t like all them other companies out there that let their boys run wild an’ do whatever they want! We got RULES here in Classic Wrestling and you’re gonna learn to follow those rules or you’re gonna be out of a job, Frank! It’s as cut and dry as that!
Inside of the ring King Kong Frank is fit to be tied. Gruff absently wonders if he should have brought a few zip-ties with him for just such an occasion.
Frank: You ain’t gonna let me put hands on them what put hands on me?
Gruff: That’s where you’re wrong, Frank! If, and I can’t stress that word enough… IF you can play by the rules, I’ll let you take care of your business right there inside of that Classic wrestling ring! As a matter of fact, the commission is just as ready for this business between you and Lord Colossus to be over as you are to put your mitts on him! With that in mind, and with how his match tonight against Rush Starling went down, I’ve decided that at SLAM-A-THON it’s gonna be King Kong Frank takin’ on Lord Colossus, one-on-one! Maybe then you two can get all of this mass chaos out of your systems!
The fans in the Classic Wrestling Studio, stand up and cheer at that announcement.
Frank: WELL ALL-DAGGUM-RIGHT! That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout!
Gruff: But Frank, if you step out of line and get yourself disqualified I’m gonna have to suspend you from action for thirty days! You got that?
Frank: Fine, I reckon I can work with that…
Gruff: And one last thing, Frank. Since you’ve got something of a reputation for ignoring rules, consequences, and being a general pain in the rear end, I’m assigning a special RINGSIDE ENFORCER to the match to keep an eye on you.
Frank: WHAT? WHO?
Gruff: The same guy who did such a good job of keeping you from interfering earlier tonight! THE TEXAS STAMPEDE GORDY LOVETT!
Frank: ARE YOU KIDDIN’ ME HOSS? IS YOU IN CAHOOTS WITH THAT DORIS HILTON NIGHTMARE OF A WOMAN?
Gruff: Frank I swear to God if you ever insult my integrity like that again I’ll come in that ring and whip your big ass myself! I ain’t in cahoots with nobody but CLASSIC WRESTLING and Gordy Lovett is there to DO A JOB, and nothing else! And just like for you Frank, if Gordy steps outta line there’ll be CONSEQUENCES for him, too!
Frank continues pacing, he ain’t exactly happy, but he ain’t exactly mad either. Finally, Gruff Myers cracks a smile.
Gruff: Now come on, boy, I know you got some beers back in the locker room! Come on backstage and have yourself a few before you blow yer gasket and tear my whole studio down around ya!
After another moment King Kong Frank finally relents. He leaves the ring and heads straight toward the back with Gruff less than two steps behind him.
GONG!
GONG!
A gong rings out as the camera cuts backstage to reveal Sensei Abe Lincoln standing in a corridor with Classic Wrestling correspondent Billy Fields in front of what appears to be a janitor’s closet.
Billy Fields: What a show we have had so far, and I promise, ladies and gentlemen, it is only going to get better! I’m here joined by the official representative of Classic Wrestling’s own, Shujin Yama, none other than Sensei Abe Lincoln. Sensei, is your client prepared for his tag team match tonight?
Sensei Abe Lincoln: Prepared? Mmhmm… Shujin Yama always prepared. But Vito-San… is he prepared for Shujin Yama? Carlos-San… is he prepared for Shujin Yama? Randall-San… is he prepared for Shujin Yama?
Fields: Well since you bring Randall Schwartz up, have you and Mr. Yama been able to-
Sensei Lincoln: SHUJIN Yama. Shujin means Master. This… this disrespectful. Classic Wrestling… mmhmm… full of disrespect so far. JAYYY ESSSSSSSSSSSS EN… disrespectful! Richard-San… disrespectful! Last time we talk to you, Shujin Yama attacked. Disrespectful! This tag team match… disrespectful again. Shujin Yama… eternal. Shujin Yama… needs no partner.
Fields: Well I’m sure the fans of Classic Wrestling would love to hear from him. Where is he?
BANG!
Almost conveniently on cue, the door to the janitor’s closet bursts open. Fields jumps in fright, as the mammothly-wide frame of Shujin Yama squeezes through the opening, clad in the ceremonial robe he wears to the ring. After he moves to the side of the shot (very far to the side), and takes his places next to Sensei Lincoln, the camera finally picks up a small shinto shrine and a straw mat set up in the closet amongst the mops, brooms, and shelves of cleaning supplies.
Shujin Yama: That was humiliating! I’m tired of the disrespect in this place! I swear, if one more thing happens, I’ll… I’ll…
Yama notices Sensei Lincoln and Fields, and snorts.
Yama: Time to go.
He walks off screen, and with a sneer towards Fields, Sensei Lincoln follows. Befuddled, Fields turns back to the camera.
Fields: It looks like Shujin Yama is on his way to the ring now! Over to you Thunderbird and Moss!
Carlos Ruiz & Vito Valentino vs Randall Schwartz & Shujin Yama
The famous guitar solo opening of the Eagles’ classic “Life in the Fast Lane” hits the speakers and the crowd goes bananas! Vito “Metro” Valentino makes his way down to the ringside area, wearing a green, white, and red, short-legged singlet, with black fingerless gloves and white boots with the letters “VV” written in classic cursive handwriting on each side. With a fist in the air, he stops at the steps where the roar of the crowd washes over him like a warm blanket. After pounding the steps three times for good luck, he quickly gets into the ring, ascends a turnbuckle, and raises another fist for the crowd. Climbing back down, he stretches his arms, shoulders, and neck as he awaits the bell to ring.
Moss: Here’s Vito. Looking good here in Classic Wrestling. Up tonight is a tag team match with this man.
“Bombeleo” – Gypsy Kings plays loud and the fans start dancing along. The catchy song picks up and out comes Carlos Ruiz. He smiles and waves to the Classic Wrestling audience before jumping in the ring and removing his sunglasses. He high fives his tag partner.
The music cuts out and quickly is replaced by “March and Fanfare”, sending the crowd into a big chorus of jeers as Randall Schwartz makes his way to the ring, flanked by a pair of local security as he taunts the crowd, threatening to sue anyone who touches him before he approaches the ring. He stops at the apron and smiles because he knows what comes next.
The Japanese National anthem begins playing as Sensei Abe Lincoln steps out onto the stage waving a Japanese flag. Shujin Yama follows behind, in a sparkly white robe bedazzled in red diamantes. They march down to the ring, Yama paying no attention to the crowd while Sensei Lincoln laughs and taunts them. Arriving to the ring, Sensei Lincoln walks up the steps and holds the middle rope down for Yama to step through as he waves Ruiz and Vito out of the ring. He bows in the centre of the ring, as Sensei Lincoln unhooks Yama’s robe. Once freed, he raises his left leg and drops into a dramatic sumo pose while shouting something incomprehensible to both English- and Japanese-speaking audiences. Randall smiles and slides in under the bottom rope.
Moss: All four men are ready for action.
Howley: It looks like the big man is starting out in the ring.
Moss: As well as Vito.
Ding Ding.
Moss: All of these men were involved in the Real Worlds Title tournament, but their dreams ended a little bit earlier than they would’ve liked.
Howley: That’s true but when you look at Yama and Randall, title shots are going to come their way. Bank on it.
Yama and Vito start off the match for their respective teams. Vito walks up to the stoic Yama. Vito swings a forearm to the chest of Yama, who takes the blow to the chest and smiles. He waves for another, and Vito obliges. Once again Yama brushes it off and laughs, much to the chagrin of Vito and the fans in attendance. Vito runs to the ropes, and is immediately leveled by a massive shoulder tackle. Vito rolls to the bottom rope and stares up at Yama.
Moss: You can’t go right at Yama, he’s too big. Too Strong and too menacing. Joe how would you go at someone like Yama.
Howley: Easy… I wouldn’t. I value breathing too much.
Yama reaches down to grab Vito but he scurries between his legs. Rather than go for the outstretched hand of Ruiz, Vito jumps on the back of Yama who blindly leaps back onto his back. Squashing Vito hard into the mat. Yama drags Vito to his corner and climbs to the middle rope. As he’s setting up for his devastating finish Randall tags himself in.
Moss: Bold strategy but Randall there. It seemed like Yama had everything under control.
Howley: Best to keep the big man fresh, plus Randall can handle himself in that ring too, ya know.
Randall waves Yama out of the ring, leaving the big man fuming. Randall plays to the crowd for a moment, before dropping down and going for a pin.
One!
Moss: He had to have known that wasn’t going to work.
Vito kicks out easily but rather than argue with the ref Randall locks in a side headlock. And cranks down, torquing on the neck of his opponent. Vito fights and fights, until both men are on their feet. Vito levies a back elbow to Randall, but it doesn’t get him to release the hold. The second elbow does the trick. Vito grabs a hold of Randall and fires off a fist to the face. The crowd cheers in anticipation of the next blow. Vito reaches back and swings, Randall ducks and shoves Vito into the ropes, both men go for a clothesline. And both land hard on the mat. As the ref begins to count.
Moss: Both men are down.
One!
Two!
Three!
Both men begin to stir.
Four!
Ruiz is stomping on the apron riling up the crowd.
Howley: Quiet Ruiz! No one wants to hear for you, you tiny conquistador!
Five!
Six!
Moss: Both men stirring.
Vito is up to a knee, as is Randall.
Seven!
Moss: Looks like we won’t end in disappointment tonight.
Both men are on their feet, Vito begins to head towards his corner, as Randall grabs him from behind. With a desperate back elbow, Vito makes room between him and Randall. Vito tags in Ruiz, and for some reason Randall doesn’t go for the tag he eggs Ruiz on. Ruiz runs at Randall and takes him down with a leaping clothesline, and quickly hops to his feet to run the ropes again.
Howley: I tell you that Ruiz is one quick little son of a gun, ain’t he?
Moss: He’s also a world class athlete as well.
Howley: That too, I guess.
Ruiz levels Randall with a clothesline, but Randall quickly gets back up to his feet. Randall and Ruiz meet in the middle and Randall gets the upper hand slamming Ruiz to the mat with a thunderous high body slam. Randall jaws at Vito who is now back on the apron, Yama looks on and shakes his head. Ruiz gets back to his feet and a distracted Randall doesn’t notice..
Howley: Turn around Randall!
Ruiz spins Randall around and nails him with Spanish Eyes. Ruiz thinks about going for the cover but Vito calls for the tag. Ruiz agrees and tags in Vito. As Randall begins to drag himself towards his corner.
Howley: Here comes the big man.
Randall reaches out towards Yama.
Yama Drops down off of the apron and begins to walk towards the back.
Howley: WHAT!?! Get back on that apron and help your damn teammate!
Randall buried his face in the mat and slams his fist on the ground. As Vito stalks his prey. Randall rolls over and is met by a boot in the gut. Vito drags Randall to the middle of the ring and locks in the Metro Avenue Deathlock.
Moss: Smart to drag him in the middle to lock in the submission.
Howley: Shut it Moss, if that coward Yama stayed then none of this would be happening…
Moss: But he did and this is where we are right now.
Randall struggles and tries everything to break the hold, but eventually succumbs to the pain, and Taps Out.
Robbins: Here are your winners! VITO VALENTINO AND CARLOS RUIZ!
Moss: Without Yama there to watch his back the pair of Vito and Carlos proved to be just too much! What a preview for what’s to come at SLAM-A-THON! Will one of these men become the first Premier American Champion!?
Howley: How are they going to throw Yama out of the ring is what I want to know!
Break A Leg
We cut to the backstage area, just outside the locker rooms where Vito Valentino is socializing with a few of his METROpolitans. After signing some autographs and high-fiving some of the fans who have a chaperone in charge of taking Classic Wrestling’s VIPs on tour throughout the facility, Vito heads away from the locker room area.
A few moments later, Vito spots Alex Bruder making his way towards the locker rooms. Just as their trajectories meet, Vito stops and extends his hand. A genuine smile washes over his face.
Metro: Nice win, man. Good luck tonight, buddy.
Bruder stops in his tracks and eyes “Metro”’s outstretched hand. He takes a resigned breath and then locks eyes with Vito.
Alex Bruder: It seems that I haven’t made myself clear, son. I’ve got no problem with you looking for something deeper than competition. I’m not. You want me to tell you that you did a good job? You tossed me around the ring like I was a small child. You did as well as you could have hoped for. I did better. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got another main event to get ready for.
Vito retracts the hand and shakes his head.
Metro: Okay, Alex. You wanna play up the tough guy act — ‘cause that’s what this is, an act — and look at respect, honor, and tradition like some kinda weakness? Fine. You wanna go out to the ring every time like you’re not livin’ your best life and livin’ the dream every night? You wanna go out there and just put on a show like you’re goin’ through the motions for a damn paycheck? That’s fine, too. But, son?
Vito gets right up in “All Business’s” business.
Metro: You wanna disrespect me when I offer a hand in respect? You wanna leave me hangin’ like some kinda chump as if you’re the King Turd in the Kingdom of Wet Logs? That is anything but fine.
Vito’s fists ball up like he’s going to knock his block off.
Metro: So here’s what I suggest. You keep puttin’ your winnin’s where your condescendin’ mouth is, go out there in your second main event of your career… and win. Shouldn’t be a problem for you, right? Right. ‘Cause if you don’t? And sooner or later, whether it’s tonight, at SLAM-A-THON, or at Episode One-Oh-One, you’re gonna regret thumbin’ your nose at me, the METROpolis, and the rest of the Classic. I promise you that, prizefighter.
He slaps Alex’s shoulder rather stiffly, feigning friendliness.
Metro: Break a leg, baby.
Vito shakes his head in disappointment and leaves Alex behind him as he makes his way down the corridor and away from the locker room area.
Awe Inspiring
We are backstage in the Classic Studio where “Big” Joe Geoue stands beside none other than Johny Saint Nelson in front of the beautiful Classic Wrestling Backdrop.
Geoue: Johnny Saint Nelson, an impressive victory from yourself over Shunji Yama on episode 3 has got you into tonight’s semi final against Alex “All Business” Bruder.
JSN, dressed ready for action, shuts his eyes as he calmly and proudly nods along.
Geoue: However, despite your early wins and impact here in Classic Wrestling thus far, there are huge question marks over the way you have won those matches. So far you seem to have no problems in…
JSN holds his palm up flat in front of Joe, interrupting the interviewer. His smile fades away and eyes narrow on the interviewer.
JSN: Huge question marks? My dear Joe, it sounds that you have not been left satisfied with the miracle that took place just a few weeks ago when Johnny Saint Nelson overcame Shujin Yama, a man five hundred times my size!
Joe is taken aback by the weight calculation made by The Saint, however before he can rightly question the math, JSN grabs his mic hand and pulls it back in his direction.
JSN: It was a true David and Goliath moment. However, I understand it is difficult for people like you, those in attendance this evening and watching at home to believe in yourselves.
Nelson looks away from Joe as he takes in the boos inside the arena filtering through to the interview area. However, he shrugs them off, quickly turning back to Joe once more.
JSN: To have confidence in yourselves that you can overcome any obstacle that is put in your path, no matter how impossible it appears to be, is unfortunately a concept many like you find the most difficult to fathom.
He holds his hand to his heart, raises his head proudly, inhales and raises his palm to the sky.
JSN: But OHHHH LORDY, IT’S NOT DIFFICULT FOR JAYYY ESSSS ENNNNN! NO, SIR-RIE BOB!
He places his hand on the shoulder of Geoue, rubbing it a little too firmly for a moment before reopening his eyes.
JSN: Believe in JSN, Joe and you will finally learn to believe in yourself too.
Joe rubs his shoulder upon JSN’s release before bringing the mic up to his mouth.
Geoue: Be that as it may, you are just moments away from the semi final match up with Alex Bruder. Will you be showcasing more of the same tactics in order to progress to the final of the WTT at Classic Wrestling’s very first Pay Per View, Slam-A-Thon!?
JSN: Joe, Joe, Joe! If I understand your question correctly, which I do, then my answer is simply…YES! Tonight, you and the rest of the non-believers watching will bear witness to JSN showcasing more awe inspiring moments in order to overcome a man who also believes in his very own cause.
He rubs his chin and intently focuses on the cameraman’s lens.
JSN: Alex Bruder has shown so far that a man with a cause, a man with true focus….can be unstoppable…even if that cause is terribly misguided.
He breathes in and shakes his head disappointedly as he turns to face his interviewer.
JSN: And tonight, Joe…all MY business…will be to show the world, once again, that there is only one true cause to follow here in Classic Wrestling…
One final look of intent is presented to the camera.
JSN: and that is to believe in J…S…N!
Alex Bruder vs Johnny Saint Nelson (WTT Semifinal)
Megadeth – “Train of Consequences”\
Moss: And here we go with our Main Event of the evening. The winner of this match is going onto SLAM-A-THON to take on Rush Starling for the REAL WORLDS TITLE!
“All Business” Alex Bruder comes out to his music, the lights lowered and a single spotlight on him. He ignores the crowd, not returning their insults. He enters via the stairs, wipes his boots on the apron, and goes to his corner, pulling against the top ropes, a mixture of last minute stretching and testing the rope’s tension.
“Personal Jesus” – Depeche Mode
From behind the curtain comes Johnny Saint Nelson dressed at first in a long church robe. He moves towards the ring before whipping it off revealing his ring gear for the evening. He shakes his head judgingly at the crowd before sending a blessing their way. He climbs in the ring and locks eyes with his opponent.
Harrold Robbins: Ladies and Gentlemen this next match is a Semi Finals Match in the REAL WORLDS TITLE TOURNAMENT! Introducing first, weighing in at 243 Lbs. From Cleveland, Ohio… “The Saint!” JOHNNY SAINT NELSON!
The crowd boos as expected, Saint pays them no mind.
Robbins: And his opponent Weighing 238 Lbs. Hailing from Hillsboro, North Dakota… “All Business” ALEX BRUDER!
The fans boo again. Tough one for them with these two going up against one another.
The Bell Rings and both men move from their corners towards the center of the ring. Alex Bruder goes for a quick right jab but it’s ducked by JSN. He once again tries for a jab and Johnny dodges it yet again. Now Johnny throws his hands up in the air as the official warns Bruder about the closed fists.
The pair lock up finally and JSN brings a knee up into the gut of Bruder, bending him over in the process! JSN shoots Bruder into the turnbuckle, but Alex quickly reverses it, sending the Saint in back first instead. Saint bounces out and comes back at Alex, who’s ready and waiting and hits him with a big hip toss. Bruder pumps his arms as JSN slowly gets back up, clearly a little peeved at getting shown up.
JSN grabs the corner and Bruder moves in but once more the referee gets between them citing the ropes. Bruder barks at the official, growing more frustrated by each stoppage.
Howley: I thought Bruder was facing this JSN fella, not the guy in the striped shirt! What’s going on here?
Moss: He’s a bit overzealous and ready to go, the official on the other hand wants a nice clean fight.
Howley: PULL HIS EYE OUT!
They lock up and JSN immediately slaps on a headlock, but he releases it after using his free hand to punch Bruder in the head a couple times. He goes to do it once more, but Alex sees it coming, he blocks the headlock, slaps on one of his own and lands his own big left hand. The fans, not sure who to choose, cheer on both guys getting hit in the face. Bruder hits JSN hard enough that he falls, draping his head and shoulders on the second rope. Alex sees an opening
Moss: Bruder now runs off the ropes, it looks like JSN is set up!
Bruder jumps and lands with his leg across the shoulders of JSN, sending him neck first into the second rope. JSN bounces back into the ring and writhes on the ground holding his throat. He coughs a bit trying to get his breath back. Bruder motions for JSN to get back up, which he slowly does. Saint begins to circle Bruder who stands poised. Still holding his neck until he lunges in, as JSN moves in, trying to catch Bruder off guard it’s Alex who grabs one of his opponents legs and trips him.Bruder locks in an ankle lock of sorts but a couple seconds late JSN is able to place a foot in the face of Bruder, pulls him in close and launches him off with a big kick. Both men try to get to their feet quickly, JSN is a step slower and surprised by the standing Alex Bruder, he falls backwards on his own and catches himself on the turnbuckles.
JSN: HOW DID HE DO THAT?
He barks at the referee but gets nothing back. The pair go to lock up and Bruder grabs an arm and spins under it, twisting it in one motion. The momentum sends JSN flipping over onto his back and Bruder locks in an arm/shoulder lock. The official slides into the face of The Saint and asks him if he’s ready to quit. His head shakes wildly, refusing to quit. For the next several moments Bruder is able the manipulate the arm any way he wants and drops a few knees into the shoulder area while it’s locked in, for good measure.
Moss: Bruder is absolutely relentless tonight in there, refusing to break the hold.
Howley: He’s so close to the REAL WORLDS CHAMPIONSHIP he can smell it Moss! It smells like Success!
Bruder takes the free arm of JSN and tries to move him into position for the Cobra Clutch submission hold.
Moss: The Saint had that one scouted! He rolls out of the ring quickly to get away from the hold.
Bruder backs up before kicking one of the bottom ropes in frustration, he almost had him there. As JSN hops back on the ring apron, Bruder moves in. JSN is able to hit his opponent first giving him the free space to step back in.
The Saint kicks Bruder in the gut in the center of the ring and then sends him off the ropes.
Howley: He’s winding up for a big clothesline here Moss!
When Bruder comes back he ducks the clothesline, but grabs the arm. He ties it across the neck of JSN and slaps in the hold in the center of the ring. JSN’s eyes go wide immediately as he flails looking for the ropes.
Moss: THE COBRA CLUTCH IS IN!
There’s nowhere for JSN to go, but he refuses to give up. He tries throwing punches over his head with his free arm, to no avail. It isn’t long before his flaily slows and eventually stops.
Howley: This could be it Moss, he’s GOT to find a way out of it if he wants to survive!
The official steps in and checks to see if JSN is still awake. He lifts the arm 3 times and each time it falls to the mat…
The bell rings!
Robbins: Ladies and Gentlemen, your winner, and moving to the Finals of the REAL WORLDS TITLE TOURNAMENT by SUBMISSION…. “ALL BUSINESS” ALEX BRUDER!
He finally breaks the hold when he hears his name called. Standing up slowly Bruder is obviously exhausted. The official raises his arm but he pulls it back quickly and raises it himself. The victory finally settling in. He smiles.
Moss: He did it! All Business is going ALL THE WAY to the finals in the REAL Worlds TItle Tournament! Folks don’t forget to join us in two short weeks for the PPV extravaganza of the year! SLAM A THON! We’re going to see the crowning of THREE NEW CHAMPIONS, We’re going to see King Kong Frank take on the Monster that is Lord Colossus with Gordy Lovett as the special enforcer! Get ready folks! There’s nothing like Classic Wrestling in your home!
Howley: Moss we’re out of time! You guys won’t want to miss SLAM-A-THON! CALL YOUR LOCAL CABLE PROVIDER RIGHT NOW! For Patrick Moss I’m THE THUNDERBIRD! Good Night Folks!