The house lights go dim as “The Becoming” by Nine in Chance plays over the sound system. Dr. Devastation comes out from behind the curtain and slowly walks to the ring. He peers around the completely silent crowd, creepily tilting his head from side to side while his two green ropes of hair hang down over his poorly made-up face. He climbs up on the apron and steps over the top rope. He walks across the ring and to the far corner before turning his back to it. He drops to his rear, hangs his head low and begins to rock back and forth in a manic manner.
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.
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 Classic Wrestling ring is what we see and there are two individuals standing at each corner; one of which is of massive size. The two individuals are patiently waiting for the referee and ring announcer to synchronize. Cut to the commentary table.
Moss: Tonight we get to see the debut of that masked monster you see in the ring, Dr. Devastation, and Thunderbird – this guy looks like he’s going to be a burden to many here in Classic Wrestling.
Howley: He’s a freak. He’s not just a freak of nature, but he’s a freak. What’s with those dumb pigtails coming out of that mask? I don’t get this guy. Thunderbird doesn’t need to get this guy. If Jack Fargo is anything like Thunderbird Howley, which he’s not because there’s no one like the Thunderbird, then he’d instantaneously show this big ole’ jerk that the bigger they come…the harder they fall!
Thunderbird smugly kisses his bicep.
We cut back to the center of the ring where Harold Robbins begins to announce the match.
Harold Robbins: Ladies and gentlemen the following match is for one fall and has a thirty minute time limit. Standing in this corner (he points at Jack Fargo) and weighing in at 245 pounds, he is from Plainfield, Illinois! He is BRONZE…JACK…FARGO!
The crowd claps, with a few hoots and hollers mixed in, as Jack pushes himself from the corner, smiles, and waves to all the many Classic Wrestling fans in attendance. He’s dressed in his trademark bronze undies and silver boots strapped to his shins. He brushes back his hair and slaps his shoulders as his eyes glare across the ring at the dastardly behemoth before him.
Harold Robbins: His opponent, weighing in at 410 pounds, …he is from Parts Unknown. DOCTOR…DEVASTATION!
The masked monster barely moves. There’s little reaction from the crowd aside from some seemingly raucous jeering. His giant arms are draped at his sides. Harold Robbins backs away as the referee steps into the center of the ring. He waves both competitors toward him as Jack skips forward and Dr. D progresses at a leisurely pace. The referee reaches toward a humble and determined Fargo and pats him down. He nods his head and turns to Dr. D. The referee pauses for a moment so his eyes can scale the monster before him. He reaches as high as he can and pats the man down from top to bottom. He nods, and then signals for the bell.
Moss: This is going to be a true test of courage and determination for Bronze Jack Fargo.
Howley: Want to know why they call him Bronze, Mossy?
Moss: Why’s that?
Howley: Because he’s not golden like the Thunderbird.
Moss: Oh. I thought it had something to do with him winning a medal in the Olympics?
Howley: Hmph! Olympics-shmimpics. He’s got a lot to prove in this world, Mossy’man!
Fargo circles Dr. D. The big man hasn’t moved a muscle. Fargo lunges toward the big man and drives his right shoulder into Devastation’s side. The big man looks down at Fargo and slowly shakes his head. Jack hurries toward the ropes and bounces off. Fargo aims for a drop kick and sticks his heels as far as possible into D’s ribs but the big man barely moves as Fargo falls to the mat. Jack stares up at a mountain that’s now bending forward and reaching for Fargo’s hair. He rips Jack from the canvas as if Fargo was weightless! He tosses Fargo across the ring and against the turnbuckle. Fargo sells the move as he bounces off the turnbuckle and nurses his mid back. Jack winces in pain as Dr. D strolls toward him and scoops him up! He turns toward the center of the ring and slams Jack onto the canvas! Fargo rolls onto his side, shuts his eyes and grinds his teeth as he absorbs every ounce of that over seven foot fall to the mat!
Moss: Did you see that ring shake, Howley? Hot dog!
Howley: I certainly hope Jack Fargo knows some people in the insurance world…
Moss: Well, if you didn’t know…
Howley: I get it, Moss. I get it.
Dr. D circles around the fallen Fargo and strategically plots his next move as Jack rolls onto his back and gains composure. This gives Devastation enough time to fall forward and drop a VICIOUS elbow onto Fargo’s sternum! The fans are yelling for Fargo to get up and work as Dr. D grinds his humongous elbow into Fargo’s chest cavity. Fargo tries to push away and the referee goes for the pinfall.
One!
Two!
But Dr. D pulls Fargo up and wiggles his index finger toward the referee.
Howley: This guy could have just won the match based on his weight and pressure alone, but he’s pulling Fargo back up! What in the world!?
The big man and his opponent are back on their feet and Devastation tosses Fargo across the ring. Jack nails the ropes with a brutal force and hurries back toward the big man! A LARIAT! NO! Fargo slides between D’s legs, leaps to his feet, and jumps onto Devastation’s back! He’s got Dr. Devastation in a sleeper hold! The monster’s giant arms are having difficulty reaching his opponent and he’s flailing like a madman in the center of the ring. The crowd’s clapping and cheering as the referee shouts at Dr. Devastation to ask if he’s ok. The hold doesn’t last long as Dr. D realizes he can quickly bend forward and slingshot Fargo off him. Jack flies off Dr. D’s back and tucks his body across the canvas. Fargo is on one knee and seems to be at a high right now, but he’s met with a huge hand that wraps across his throat! Dr. D lifts Fargo off the floor and holds him in the air with a display of incredible strength!
Moss: How many times could you say you’ve done something like that, Thunderbird?
Howley: That’s a desperate move, Mossy. Thunderbird never found himself in a desperate situation. Well, not until he retired and had to become a commentator to make money.
Dr. D walks into the center of the ring with the choke still applied as he holds Fargo high. He pulls Fargo closer and stares at Fargo’s fear-filled face. Suddenly Jack rakes Dr. D’s face across the mask and the monster drops Jack to the mat! Bronze kicks Dr. D in the shins! Once! Twice! Three times! FOUR TIMES! FIVE TIMES! But the monster takes a step back with each kick and barely budges! Jack reaches up and socks Dr. D in the face! He delivers a sucker punch to the gut! A shot to the ribs! Another hook to the ribcage! Another gut punch! Jack Fargo is unleashing a combination in front of a raging crowd as Dr. D absorbs every hit like a sponge and doesn’t seem to be worried about any of it! Fargo takes a step back and readies himself for another combination but he’s side lined! Dr. D swings an imaginary baseball bat within both fists and wallops Fargo upside the head with one vicious home run! Jack twists, stands for a moment, and then collapses.
Moss: This has got to be it, Thunderbird!
Dr. Devastation takes a few steps forward and leaps into the air! Jack Fargo rolls out of the way! Devastation belly smacks against the canvas, completely missing the momentous splash! Fargo hurries to his feet as Dr. D rolls onto his back and briefly nurses his gut. Fargo wastes no time and comes at the doctor with a splash of his own! Directly onto the masked man’s face! Jack lays there! He grabs a chunk of Dr. D’s mask and bunches it up! It’s a pin, but Dr. D thinks Fargo is trying to de-mask him!
ONE!
Moss: Dr. D needs to push Jack away, but Fargo has a chunk of Devastation’s mask and the doctor is distracted by that!
TWO!
Howley: SCREW THE MASK, MAN! KICK OUT!
THREE!
Moss: HE DID IT! FARGO DID IT! THE OLYMPIAN PULLED IT OFF!
Jack uses all his might and pushes himself away, then rolls out of the ring. His eyes are wide. The crowd is cheering like crazy as Fargo looks around the room and realizes what he’s done and is beside himself. Dr. Devastation rolls onto one knee and adjusts his mask. It’s at that moment that the Doctor realizes what’s happened as Harold Robbins announces it…
Harold Robbins: The winner of the match by pinfall…BRONZE…JACK…FARGO!!!
Dr. Devastation gets up and charges for the referee, but the official escapes out of harm’s way. Fargo isn’t waiting to see what can happen and jolts toward the backstage area.