The artillery rumble of Lemmy’s bass being played with amphetaminic fury announces the “Ace of Spades.” Walter Whezl steps out sneering at the crowd, brandishing his umbrella with all the menace his sub six foot frame can generate, his black and white face paint garishly painted into a ghoulish frown.
The jeers as expected are raucous and almost celebratory.
They become noticeably quieter quite quickly.
Wearing full battle regalia, and carrying a broken length of chain in a gloved hand.
Whezl makes his way to the podium and quickly produces his Pile of Papers from his jacket. Resting his umbrella against the ground like a cane, he waves them threateningly at the crowd.
Whezl: TONIGHT! The WHOLE of Classic Wrestling bears witness to these binding documents.
He unfolds them as though they were holy sacrament.
Whezl: What I have here is a WRIT OF BANISHMENT, keeping the felonious malefactor known as King Kong Frank, from ringside where he would otherwise threaten MY person!
A large, gauntleted hand comes down like a boulder onto his shoulder. Whezl squeals.
Whezl: Yes Yes! And you shall keep your hands off of the person of Lord Colossus!
Lord Colossus: THE CHAINS KING KONG FRANK THAT BIND. HAVE BEEN SEVERED. WITNESS NOW THE CHAOSCHASM OPENING ITS MAW, TEETH GRINDING TO BE SERVED RANDALL SCHWARTZ!
Lord Colossus marches down to the ring, casting the heavy length of chain at the feet of Walter Whezl, who does his best to scramble and pick it up. He follows down as Lord Colossus lumbers to the ring.
Colossus steps over the top rope and moves to his corner, removing the spiked gorget and gloves before handing them off to Whezl, who places them reverentially off to the side under Lord Colossus’ watchful eye.
Howley: Something about this Walt Whezl is just off, Moss.
Moss: You can say that again, Thunderbird!
“March and Fanfare” plays, 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. Schwartz climbs the steps and hops into the ring where all at once he falls under the glare of the cold dead stare of Lord Colossus and realizes that his security goons have absolutely not followed him into the ring.
Howley: I think Schwartz just peed his pants, Moss!
Moss: Yeah, I got nothing.
The introductions are made, Colossus hasn’t moved a muscle since Schwartz entered the ring. For his part, Randall Schwartz hasn’t stopped fidgeting the entire time either. The referee calls for the bell.
DING! DING!! DING!!!
Lord Colossus stands his ground as Schwartz does everything in his power to psych himself up, finally taking a running start at the big man and throwing the hardest clothesline he can muster at the Walking Calamity in front of him.
Schwartz’s arm bounces off of LC’s abdomen and contorts at a somewhat ridiculous angle, sending Schwartz to the mat in a fit of agony that only serves to showcase his acting chops.
Moss: It’s gonna take a lot more than that to phase the giant Colossus!
After throwing a mini-tantrum and threatening to sue every last audience member that laughed at his misfortune, Schwartz managed to take his feet again. Lord Colossus has still not so much as flinched a muscle. After much contemplation, he cocks his head somewhat inquisitively as Schwartz dusts himself off and prepares to make another go of it.
Howley: Nothing about this is gonna end well, Moss.
Moss: You can say that again…
Taking his sweet time making up his mind on a plan of attack, Schwartz finally approaches Colossus, lines him up, and fires off the very spiciest knife-edged chop that he can muster. To his credit the chop sounds reasonably painful. Lord Colossus flexes his pectorals and you can almost feel the maniacal grin forming behind his mask.
Schwartz chops at Colossus again.
The tiniest of welts appears on the chest of the Apocalypse Bringer and he lets loose an uproarious and downright scary belly laugh. At ringside Walt Whezl matches him with a cackling falsetto. That’s when things start to go wrong for Randall Schwartz.
Howley: Here we go, Moss, it’s about to get ugly! Well, uglier…
With a quickness that defies logic, Lord Colossus shoots a meaty arm out and grabs Schwartz by the crown of the head, lifts him about three feet in the air, and straight tosses him all the way across the ring into the corner turnbuckles! LC charges in to follow up but by the grace of whatever God that Schwartz prays to he somehow manages to duck under the behemoth’s grasp and dive out of the way at the last possible moment.
Moss: There he goes, Thunderbird, running for his life!
Howley: In all my years in the ring I don’t think I ever came up against a psychological horror on the scale of Lord Colossus, Moss, I can only imagine what Schwartz is going through in there! Then again, I’m not a scared little girl either, so…
Speaking of scared, Schwartz takes off like a shot across the ring, sliding to the outside to get away from the onslaught that is Lord Colossus. He receives no quarter, though, as the big man is just as quick to drop down and roll out of the adjacent side of the ring. Schwarts moves to take off again only for Walt Whezl to do his best to slow the Entertainer down!
Moss: Schwartz with the juke move on Walt Whezl!
Howley: He crossed him up, Moss!
Lord Colossus isn’t far behind as Schwartz rounds the corner and picks up a head of steam. He takes another corner before diving underneath the bottom rope, scrambling to his feet, and taking off again, hitting the opposite ropes just as LC follows him back into the ring! Schwartz throws the lowest dropkick in the history of dropkicks and catches Colossus right in the head and shoulder as the big man attempts to regain a vertical base. Proud of himself Schwartz prances around the ring, pointing to his temple and decrying himself the smartest man in Classic Wrestling!
Moss: If he’s not careful-
Howley: Shh! Let it happen, Moss, let it happen.
And boy, does it ever happen! Just as Schwartz turns back toward Colossus a giant catcher’s mitt of a hand wraps around his throat! From one knee Lord Colossus delivers a chokeslam that rocks the entire ring and sends Randall Schwarts flailing around the ring like a fish out of water! From ringside Walt Whezl screeches encouragement at his charge.
Whezl: FINISH HIM, OH MIGHTY COLOSSUS!
The Towering Inferno reaches down and grabs Schwartz by the head again, this time stuffing it between his legs in a mighty standing leg scissors. LC drags a thumb across his neck in a cutthroat motion before easily gripping Schwartz and bulling him up ten feet in the air before sending him crashing back down to the mat.
Moss: VOOOOLT THROWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!!!
Howley: RANDALL SCHWARTZ IS DEAD!
Lord Colossus plants a mighty boot on Schwartz’s chest. The referee, having no recourse but to count the pinfall, dives into position and slaps the mat as quickly as is legally possible in the parameters of a wrestling contest.
DING! DING!! DING!!!
The referee attempts to raise the victorious arm of Lord Colossus and finds himself on the business end of a Colossal glare for his troubles before deciding to bail before he finds himself in the same position as Randall Schwartz.
Howley: I don’t think he’s done, Moss!
Moss: I don’t either, Thunderbird…
He is not. Colossus reaches down and grabs Schwartz one more time by the head and lifts his limp body up into another standing scissors.
And then all hell breaks loose.
Ted Nugent’s seminal shredding classic rips through the studio.
Moss: KING KONG FRANK IS HERE!
Frank bellows a battle cry as he steps out onto the stage, his own length of chain hanging from one hand as he hoots and hollers and makes his way toward the ring.
Howley: What in the world Whezl doing?
The scrawny spectacle of a man that is Walt Whezl, either overestimating his own abilities or underestimating King Kong Frank’s chaotic nature, starts brandishing his Writ of Banishment papers at Frank. This is met with a guttural howl from the Smoky Mountain Mastodon.
Moss: Looks like he’s trying to serve Frank with papers?
Howley: Are you kidding me? That hillbilly can’t read!
Moss: Says who?
Howley: Just look at him, Moss, does that scream “education” to you?
As if to answer Thunderbird directly, Frank reaches up and grabs Whezl’s Writ of Banishment and takes a giant bite out of it! He then starts whipping that chain around like a maniac and Walt just barely manages to dive out of the way as Frank makes a bee-line for the ring, where Lord Colossus has since discarded of Randall Schwartz and made ready for the fight to come.
Frank steps over the ropes, brandishing his chain like a weapon, and the two giant grapplers begin circling, each man taking the measure of the other. Whezl, keenly aware of his responsibilities, scrambles over to where he’d left Lord Colossus’s own broken length of chain and picks it up with all of his might and slides it into the ring for the Mayhem Machine to reach down and grab, which he does, and now we’ve got two crazy dangerous men weilding chains and ready to go to war.
Moss: This is ludicrous! Somebody get some security out here!
Howley: What’s the matter, Moss, scared of gettin’ a little blood on ya?
Moss: No, Thunderbird, but I don’t want to see two of Classic Wrestling’s top wrestlers beating each other into oblivion tonight either!
🎜A Country Boy Can Survive🎝
Before Frank and Colossus can get at one another the Texas Stampede himself, Gordy Lovett, has hit the ring and clobbered King Kong Frank over the back of the head with the bell attached to his bull rope! Hank, Jr. provides the soundtrack to an ass-kicking as before anybody can so much as react Gordy is literally whipping Frank with the very same rope.
Howley: Get it, Gordy! GET IT! Tan that hillbilly’s hide!
Moss: Wait a minute! I thought Gordy and Frank were old friends?
Howley: That’s what you get for thinkin’, Moss! Looks like to me that Doris Hilton’s influence on Gordy Lovett is finally startin’ to take!
Moss: This is just disgusting all the way around.
Howley: Yeah, well, business in that squared-circle ain’t always pretty, Moss, you’d know that if you’d ever stepped your lilly-white behind in between the ropes!
Doris Hilton makes her way to ringside to oversee the festivities and shares a conspiratory nod with Walt Whezl on the opposite side of the ringside area.
Moss: Hold the phone, did you see that, Thunderbird?
Howley: I didn’t see nothin’ Moss, and neither did you, so SHADDAP!
Lord Colossus cocks his head. He shows no outward emotion, but makes no move to either stop Gordy from attacking Frank or join in on the felonious assault. After a moment of consideration the Monolithic Masochist turns and steps over the top rope and out of the ring before dropping down to Whezl’s side. The two of them collect LC’s things and leave the ringside area as inside the ring Gordy Lovett has wrapped his bull rope around Frank’s face and neck and is pulling back with everything he’s got, stretching Frank’s neck and rope-burning his face and choking him half to death all at the same time.
Finally a cadre of referees hit the ring and do their absolute best to pry Gordy Lovett off of King Kong Frank with very little success. The camera cuts back to the commentation station as Gordy gives a bellowing belly laugh and finally releases his death grip on Frank.
Moss: It’s been a chaotic night tonight, folks, but we’re out of time! Freddy Kilgore and Lord Colossus will move on to the tournament semi-finals next week to join Johnny Saint Nelson and Alex Bruder as we move one step closer to crowning the REAL WORLDS CHAMPION!
Thunderbird hits the double-bicep pose.
Howley: Until then, it’s been your pleasure to have me on the broadcast!
He then kisses each bicep.
Moss: He’s Thunderbird Howley, I’m Patrick Moss, GOODNI-