Trouble
01-27-2007, 05:07 PM
SO! There's this wrestler (Charkey), see, and he's in this tournament. This is real Greco-Roman stuff, no showboat "Professional wrestling sports entertainment" nonsense. No jumping off the top rope, no abominable liver squeeze, just a mat, two guys in tight spandex suits, going at it with muscles and sweat.
So this one guy, he is pretty much certain to win. He's big. He's so muscley, he's got muscles on his toenails. He's fast. He's got all the moves. He is Destined to be Champion.
But then he hears about this other guy. This new guy seems undefeatable. Not so big, not so strong, not so fast, but he has -- the Pretzel Hold. Nobody has ever been able to break the Pretzel Hold; it's a killer. Once he gets his opponent in the Pretzel Hold, well, might as well call the match in his favour, unless, of course, you want to sit there and watch the other guy suffer for a while. Yeah, that DOES sound like what the fans all want.
People tell him he should worry; he ain't worried. People warn him he should sweat; he ain't sweating. He's Destined to be Champion and no little guy with some dumb "Pretzel Hold" is going to beat him. He'll probably never even meet the guy.
Out of all the matches, these two win every time, and so they inevitably get set in a match against each other. This is for the title. Oh, yeah, for once, wrestling isn't boring (actually, it is): it's one unthinkable force against an unknowing object. What happens when unthinking force hits an unknowing object?!? Oh, the fans are psyched.
So the guy's manager comes to him and says, he does, he says, "Charley, I tink we godda problem with dis Pretzel Hold guy. Nobody can break the Hold. I'm gonna give you two pieces of advice: foist, don't let him get you into the Pretzel Hold!!! It's a beah trap, I tell yah!"
"A what trap?"
"A beah trap."
"What?"
"A BEAH trap. Like the Chicago BEAHS!"
"Gotcha. It's a beer trap."
"'Zactly. Now, de udder ting is dat, I've talked to udder wrestlers, ones what been beat by dis goy, and there MIGHT be a way to break it -- but it requires a bit o' cheatin'."
"I won't cheat, coach."
"Charley, y'godda!"
"No way, coach, I play a clean game."
"But you might LOSE if you don't!"
"Good point. Go ahead, coach."
"A'right. I talked to dese defeated goys and dey say de same ting: When he's got you in that Pretzel Hold, you won't be able to move arms or legs. It's moidah on yah. BUT -- his crotch is right up against your face. You can move your head just a little, so bite the guy's balls."
"NO FUCKIN' WAY, Coach!"
"Charley, listen to me -- maybe you can beat dis goy -- and maybe you can't. For God's sakes, Charley, be ready to bite his nuts off. Do it fer me, pally."
"Coach, biting another man's nuts 'for you' sounds totally GAY, and, plus, a man never gives another man a low blow. It's just wrong, Coach, I won't do it."
"The Ref won't be able to see it... Oh, Charley, listen to reasin..."
The day of the match comes up and these two guys face off on the map. The Pretzel Hold guy is big, but our guy is bigger. The Pretzel Hold guy is overly-muscular, but he "ain't godda ting" on Charley. And fast? Pretzel Hold guy is fast -- but our hero? He's faster.
They shake hands, and the match is on. Charley almost drops him right down for a pin, but this Pretzel Hold guy wriggles and squirms like a sperm cell. Every time he is about to get pinned, he slithers out and around -- and, suddenly, Charley, poor, poor Charley, finds his left arm under his own right knee and he's on the defensive! The Pretzel Hold has begun and he is halfway in! He flails about, he pushes, he pulls, he cries for his Mommy, all to no avail -- he finds himself in the Pretzel Hold, wondering why Coach called it a beer trap.
The guys' junk is in his face. Sweaty, little junk, the guy's nutsack rubbing against him. Yuck. He remembers what Coach suggested, but also remembers the time his sister kicked him in the 'nads and that he resolved long ago, while writhing on the floor from that kick, never to harm another man's balls. His left arm is trapped between his right leg and his back, his right arm is pinned under his own stomach and held in place by the other guy's knee, all of his body parts are twisted into the wrong position and pointing the wrong way... and then he hears the slap of the referee's hand on the mat. A second slap means defeat, means... the championship will be lost.
He chomps down on this Pretzel Guy's little balls so hard that the guy is bound to spend the rest of his life wishing that Charley didn't have braces.
There is a horrible cry of pain. Certain defeat turns into a blur of movement -- and the Pretzel Hold is broken! A total reversal! The mat gets slapped twice by the ref, and it's all over! CHARLEY WINS, the first guy to ever break the Pretzel Hold! Pretzel Hold guy is carried out on a stretcher as Charley accepts the tournament trophy and a twenty-dollar gift certificate to the local pizza joint.
In not much better shape than Pretzel Hold guy. Charley starts to walk toward the showers and changing room, and comes long by Coach.
"It woiked, didn't it? It woiked! Ya biddem, dintcha? Well, it WOIKED!"
"It worked, all right, Coach. It's amazing what you can do after you bite your own balls."
:bananad:
So this one guy, he is pretty much certain to win. He's big. He's so muscley, he's got muscles on his toenails. He's fast. He's got all the moves. He is Destined to be Champion.
But then he hears about this other guy. This new guy seems undefeatable. Not so big, not so strong, not so fast, but he has -- the Pretzel Hold. Nobody has ever been able to break the Pretzel Hold; it's a killer. Once he gets his opponent in the Pretzel Hold, well, might as well call the match in his favour, unless, of course, you want to sit there and watch the other guy suffer for a while. Yeah, that DOES sound like what the fans all want.
People tell him he should worry; he ain't worried. People warn him he should sweat; he ain't sweating. He's Destined to be Champion and no little guy with some dumb "Pretzel Hold" is going to beat him. He'll probably never even meet the guy.
Out of all the matches, these two win every time, and so they inevitably get set in a match against each other. This is for the title. Oh, yeah, for once, wrestling isn't boring (actually, it is): it's one unthinkable force against an unknowing object. What happens when unthinking force hits an unknowing object?!? Oh, the fans are psyched.
So the guy's manager comes to him and says, he does, he says, "Charley, I tink we godda problem with dis Pretzel Hold guy. Nobody can break the Hold. I'm gonna give you two pieces of advice: foist, don't let him get you into the Pretzel Hold!!! It's a beah trap, I tell yah!"
"A what trap?"
"A beah trap."
"What?"
"A BEAH trap. Like the Chicago BEAHS!"
"Gotcha. It's a beer trap."
"'Zactly. Now, de udder ting is dat, I've talked to udder wrestlers, ones what been beat by dis goy, and there MIGHT be a way to break it -- but it requires a bit o' cheatin'."
"I won't cheat, coach."
"Charley, y'godda!"
"No way, coach, I play a clean game."
"But you might LOSE if you don't!"
"Good point. Go ahead, coach."
"A'right. I talked to dese defeated goys and dey say de same ting: When he's got you in that Pretzel Hold, you won't be able to move arms or legs. It's moidah on yah. BUT -- his crotch is right up against your face. You can move your head just a little, so bite the guy's balls."
"NO FUCKIN' WAY, Coach!"
"Charley, listen to me -- maybe you can beat dis goy -- and maybe you can't. For God's sakes, Charley, be ready to bite his nuts off. Do it fer me, pally."
"Coach, biting another man's nuts 'for you' sounds totally GAY, and, plus, a man never gives another man a low blow. It's just wrong, Coach, I won't do it."
"The Ref won't be able to see it... Oh, Charley, listen to reasin..."
The day of the match comes up and these two guys face off on the map. The Pretzel Hold guy is big, but our guy is bigger. The Pretzel Hold guy is overly-muscular, but he "ain't godda ting" on Charley. And fast? Pretzel Hold guy is fast -- but our hero? He's faster.
They shake hands, and the match is on. Charley almost drops him right down for a pin, but this Pretzel Hold guy wriggles and squirms like a sperm cell. Every time he is about to get pinned, he slithers out and around -- and, suddenly, Charley, poor, poor Charley, finds his left arm under his own right knee and he's on the defensive! The Pretzel Hold has begun and he is halfway in! He flails about, he pushes, he pulls, he cries for his Mommy, all to no avail -- he finds himself in the Pretzel Hold, wondering why Coach called it a beer trap.
The guys' junk is in his face. Sweaty, little junk, the guy's nutsack rubbing against him. Yuck. He remembers what Coach suggested, but also remembers the time his sister kicked him in the 'nads and that he resolved long ago, while writhing on the floor from that kick, never to harm another man's balls. His left arm is trapped between his right leg and his back, his right arm is pinned under his own stomach and held in place by the other guy's knee, all of his body parts are twisted into the wrong position and pointing the wrong way... and then he hears the slap of the referee's hand on the mat. A second slap means defeat, means... the championship will be lost.
He chomps down on this Pretzel Guy's little balls so hard that the guy is bound to spend the rest of his life wishing that Charley didn't have braces.
There is a horrible cry of pain. Certain defeat turns into a blur of movement -- and the Pretzel Hold is broken! A total reversal! The mat gets slapped twice by the ref, and it's all over! CHARLEY WINS, the first guy to ever break the Pretzel Hold! Pretzel Hold guy is carried out on a stretcher as Charley accepts the tournament trophy and a twenty-dollar gift certificate to the local pizza joint.
In not much better shape than Pretzel Hold guy. Charley starts to walk toward the showers and changing room, and comes long by Coach.
"It woiked, didn't it? It woiked! Ya biddem, dintcha? Well, it WOIKED!"
"It worked, all right, Coach. It's amazing what you can do after you bite your own balls."
:bananad: