Moss: We’re back, right here in the Classic Studio, and we’ve got Scott Hunter ready for action inside the ring!
Howley: I don’t know about this kid, Moss, I saw him earlier in the locker room lacin’ up his boots…
Moss: Yeah, and?
Howley: And he had this look on his face like he was right in the middle of failing a math test!
Moss: Would you stop!
The unmistakable twang of Hank Williams Jr.’s guitar strums through the building as “A Country Boy Can Survive” plays. It doesn’t take long before the cow-punching Texan himself, Gordy Lovett, emerges from the entrance curtain with Doris Hilton close behind him. The Texas Stampede is a hot mess of everything that you either love or hate about Texas, he’s got that handlebar ‘stache and a mouth full of chaw and a rugged old bull rope at his side before he starts whipping it all over the place, sending everyone within arm’s reach scattering as he climbs onto the bleachers and starts hollering incoherently and climbing toward the top.
Howley: Look at this guy! He knows how to get a crowd on their feet!
Moss: This is going to drive our insurance premiums up…
Reaching the top, Gordy lets out a loud hoot and throws up the horns in true Texas cowboy fashion, all the while slamming the bell of his rope on the top bleachers and making all sorts of commotion. Meanwhile, in the ring, Scott Hunter has a look of mild trepidation on his face at the prospect of wrestling a man whose hobbies include bovine pugilism. At the behest of Doris Hilton, after longer than seems necessary, the big bronco-bustin’ badboy for Cut and Shoot makes his way back down the bleachers and to the ring. Introductions are made, and the bell is called for!
DING! DING!! DING!!!
Gordy charges in but Hunter, the quicker and more agile of the two, easily sidesteps and sends Gordy into the turnbuckles. He winds up and unloads on Gordy with a couple of quick jabs and a haymaker, pulling him out before the ref can chastise the closed fists and picking the cowboy up and dropping him down with a quick inverted atomic drop!
Moss: Right in the cowbells!
Gordy’s eyes cross as he prances precariously around the ring, gasping for air and trying to recover, but Hunter is quick to grab him with a double-leg and take the bigger man down. Never letting go of the legs, Hunter dives into an elbow drop right into the inside of the knee and thigh. He hops up and drops another, and a third in quick succession!
Howley: Now look at Hunter! He’s got the big cowboy down! He might just have a solid plan here!
Moss: That’s right! Looks like he’s softening Gordy up for that Figure Four here in the early goings!
After the third elbow drop Hunter synches in on the leg, using his own body weight as a counter anchor and wrenching at the ligaments in Gordy’s leg. He keeps this up for a while with the referee asking if Gordy wants to give it up and getting a face full of tobacco spittle and some unintelligible cursing for his troubles. After a few moments the wily veteran reaches up and grabs Hunter by the face, raking at his eyes and breaking the hold! He scrambles up but before he can capitalize Hunter grabs him by the same leg, drops him back down to the mat, and jumps on the knee with another elbow drop and synches the hold right back in!
Howley: The wrestling IQ on this kid is impressive, Moss, but I’m not convinced his actual IQ is out of the single digits!
Eventually Gordy manages to break the hold again using a chin-lock and brute force and the race is on again! Gordy grabs Hunter by the head, but Hunter creates juuuuuuuuuust enough space to execute the prettiest standing drop kick that human eyes have ever had the pleasure of seeing!
Moss: Scott Hunter really does seem to have the Texan’s number so far!
Howley: Bold of you to imply that Scott can count, Moss!
Hunter pulls Gordy up again and shoots him off the ropes hard, Gordy picks up some steam as Scott drops down and Gordy hits the opposite ropes, this time Scott leapfrogs, easily clearing the big Texan! Gordy hits the ropes one more time and Scott sets up for a big arm-drag but Gordy launches himself like a linebacker and runs right through Hunter with the Shoulder Block to end all shoulder blocks! At ringside Doris cheers her man on as he takes control, immediately putting the boots to the fallen Scott Hunter. Gordy drags Hunter up and manhandles him into the nearest corner where he then goes to work, cracking Hunter’s jaw with a straight right hand that he follows up with a giant overhand chop to Scott’s chiseled chest that leaves a handprint the size of of a hubcap on Hunter’s chest!
Moss: HOLY MOLEY! He’s gonna cave his chest in!
Howley: Yep, all that athleticism and five bucks’ll get ya a small coffee these days if you’re lucky!
Gordy goes to work, lacing in the straight shots and yelling incomprehensible “Texisms” any time the referee tries to get him to open up his fists or break a count. Doris slaps the mat and shouts instructions as Gordy takes his time alternating between beating up Scott Hunter and jawwing with the very vocal fans in the Classic Studio who wanted to like the Texas Stampede before he really sunk into his rowdy antics and borderline illegal activities. After a while Hunter fires up and he gets the upper hand momentarily by sheer force of athleticism!
Moss: This kid is a wrestling virtuoso, Thunderbird! Even you can’t deny that!
Howley: More like he’s an idiot savant!
Hunter gets some momentum before launching himself at Gordy with a beautiful looking and perfectly executed Cross Body Block! The problem with that is that Gordy is every bit as strong as he looks and he CATCHES Hunter in mid-air! With a hoot he lifts Hunter up over his shoulder before taking off like a runaway big rig, slamming Scott’s back across the top turnbuckle before pivoting and driving him HARD into the mat!
Moss: TEXAS STAAAMPEEEEEEEEEEEDE!
Howley: IT’S OVER MOSS!
And just like that, it’s academic.
ONE!
TWO!!!
THREE!!!
The wild texan rolls off Hunter and gets to his feet quickly with his hands in the air in celebration. Doris is slightly more pleased than normal on the outside.
Robbins: Your winner of this match, “COWPUNCHER” GORDY LOVETT!
Howley: Cow Puncher? I know it’s impressive but a nickname?
Moss: You going to tell him otherwise?
Howley: Absolutely not! I’m not stupid Moss!