TBirdSCIL
League Member
R.W.: “This all got started last week on Wired when Grossard came out of no where, and cost Marx a match.”
J.S.: ”Nobody likes getting dropped on their head…"
T.R.: “Just ask Jake.”
J.S.: “…just ask Tony.”
T.R: “…”
J.S.: “…”
R.W.: “Their mini-feud is about to be settled here, at Ringlords. Marx is a man of submissions and takedowns, while MWG is more of… well… dirty player, shall we say.
J.S.: “The guy likes going after the ‘quote-unquote’ ‘mid-section’ of his opponents.”
R.W.: “Exactly, amongst some other tactics which are less than technically appealing.”
T.R.: “In any case, let’s take it to the ring, and GLCW’s own Matt Faley.
(CUT-TO: Matt Faley standing in the ring. CUE-UP: "Wax Ecstatic (to Sell Angelina)" by Sponge.)
MATT FALEY: "The following match up is scheduled for one-fall. Introducing first, from… (Matt scratches his head) somewhere where the sun shines and birds sing... weighing 202 pounds, he is M.W. GROSSARD!!"
(MWG comes down to a huge mixed reaction of half-pop, half-boos. He is wearing a ridiculous zebra print trench and pink tights. He struts down to the ring, gives Matt Faley a wink, and ducks under the second rope. CUE-UP: “Only Happy When It Rains” by Garbage.)
M.F.: “And his opponent, hailing from Princeton, New Jersey and weighing in at 215 pounds, he is “THE GENTLEMEN" JONATHAN MARX!!"
(Crowd gives Marx quite a bit of heat as he comes down the ramp, his eyes staying focused on the ring. He is dressed in black tights, and he dives under the bottom rope, and begins to pace in the ring opposite MWG.)
T.R.: “The bell rings and here we go. M.W. walks right up to Marx… and slaps him across the face!”
R.W.: “Wow, the cheap seats could hear all of that one.”
J.S.: “Hey, I’m right up front, but sitting with you two losers certainly de-values my seat. Besides, Ross over here smells like he just made his own salsa con queso…”
T.R.: “Marx is motioning for MW to hit him again! MW rears back, and Marx with the reverse armbar. MW makes a dash for the ropes and gets there before too much damage is done. Marx now, towing on the leg of MW. Marx now with a mounted armbar, MW reaching out again, but Marx breaks the hold. Marx now, letting MW up. Marx calling for the test of strength… and MW takes it. MW with a kick to the mid-section, ouch!”
J.S.: “Looked like a nut-shot to me, but hey… I’m not the commentator.”
R.W.: “Thank god… I don’t even wanna think about what the show’d be like if you did the play-by-play.”
J.S.: “How’s this for play-by-play, WiseAss? “Ricky goes in, derobes and climbs into bed with his woman. Things are getting hot, and OH! That’s no woman, that’s M.W. Grossard, and whatever creepy surgeries that freak’s had, they missed a snip. DENIED!’”
T.R.: “MW follows up with a snap suplex, and now he’s propped on the bottom rope with one foot, well the other is choking Marx out. The referee breaks the choke, and MW looks agitated. MW hoists Marx up again, and throws him to the ropes. Marx comes back with a diving clothesline, and connects! MW rolls out of the ring to collect himself, and Marx stays in, taunting Grossard back into the ring. Grossard now, calling Marx to the outside. Marx waves MW off and walks away as MW taunts the crowd lewdly. Marx running toward MW and baseball slides MW in the face. Marx on the outside and it looks like this one is going to get ugly.”
R.W.: “Wait… Marx is rolling MW back in the ring… odd.”
J.S.: “Not really, this guy is pure old-school mat-wrestling, ass.”
R.W.: “Now I’ve just about had enough…”
T.R.: “And now Marx is again working the arm of MW, wrenching it back in a hammerlock of sorts. Marx twists, and takes Grossard down with an armdrag. Again Marx grabs hold of the arm, and applies a wristlock. Grossard tries to power out, but instead somersaults out of the move, and flips Marx over. Marx is up and MW hits him with a hip toss, and another, and a counter by Marx, only to be countered again by MW. Grossard whips Marx to the ropes and hits a huge, single-arm swinging DDT. Marx looks to be toast as MW goes for the cover, 1…2…3!!! NO!!! Marx got the shoulder up, and MW is furious. MW pushes the ref, and proceeds to bite Marx’s forehead. MW now mounting Marx, and begins pummeling his head and face. Marx has a crimson mask! The referee pulls MW off of Marx so he can assess the damage. Apparently Marx wants to continue!”
J.S.: “Of course he does… he can always get a blood transfusion to refill his body’s blood supply, but they don’t make pride transfusions. Once Marx’s out, that’s when the fat lady is singing.”
R.W.: “Odd… but insightful.”
J.S.: “Thanks Rick… you jackass.”
T.R.: “Grossard has again rolled to the outside. Marx comes up on him, and MW pulls Marx out of the ring. MW whips him into the safety barrier, and follows through with a running knee to the gut. Another whip to the corner barrier, and Marx is really bleeding quite a bit.”
J.S. “No pun intended, right Tony?”
T.R.: “Pun?”
J.S.: “Bit… bit… as in… Grossard bit Jonathan Marx’s face off?”
T.R.: “No… no pun intended. Marx looks very out of it as the ref is getting to the end of the ten count. MW rolls in and the ref is having some words with him. Marx seems to getting his bearings, as he climbs the apron. MW charges Marx, but Marx answers with a kick in the gut, and a sunset flip. 1… 2 and MW kicks out. Marx wrestling MW unto his back, and applying a half Nelson to the worked arm of MW Grossard. Marx has got him in the center of the ring, and MW is shaking his head ‘no.’ MW begins to pound the mat rhythmically, getting the crowd behind him.
R.W.: “Well, I didn’t expect this crowd to get behind someone like Grossard, but when a man’s down, he’s down I guess.”
T.R.: “Grossard inching towards the ropes… his face one of pure anguish… can he make it?”
R.W.: “He got it! He got the rope!”
T.R.: “Marx breaks the hold and whips Grossard to the corner. MW counters and whips Marx into the turnbuckle. Grossard turns around to the corner opposite Marx’s and removes the top turnbuckle pad… Marx charges into Grossard, and MW side-steps. Marx just barely puts on the brakes in time to avoid a head-on collision with that steel turnbuckle.”
J.S.: “Steel turnbuckle? It looks more like iron to me… whys everything steel in this business? Chairs? Ladders? Cages? All that stuff can’t be steel… it doesn’t make any sense… (trails off)
T.R.: “Right… MW grabs Marx from behind and… what the hell is he doing? Marx with a duck behind and a snap German suplex. No bridge, and Marx springs up, his face still ruby red. MW is up, and goes after Marx. Marx with a quick drop-toe and Grossard’s face goes right into the exposed turnbuckle. Grossard is cut open too! Marx turns Grossard around, and MW goes for a wild haymaker.”
R.W.: “I doubt he can even see Marx in that red fog. Marx captures him, and pulls MW in a crossface/nelson combination. Marx wrenching back on the bloody head and damaged arm of MW.”
T.R.: “MW again waving off the ref’s request for a submission, and claws tooth and nail for the ropes… the crowd again really getting behind MW. Marx releases the arm, but keeps the head in a clutch position, pulling back. MW getting closer and closer… and he’s got the rope! Max pulls him back by the head! MW looks to be outta luck here! But wait!! MW has propped himself up on one knee, and Marx is releases the hold! Marx hoisting MW up for a double-arm suplex, but MW wriggles out of it. Marx off the ropes, and MW hits a huge spinebuster out of NOWHERE! Both men are down as the momentum from that move rolls MW out to the floor.”
R.W.: “Both men are bloody, battered, and beaten. The ref hasn’t even started the ten-count because he’s checking to make sure Marx is still alive after that spinebuster.”
T.R.: “MW is stirring on the outside. He’s taking a chair from ringside, and tossing it in the ring. The ref doesn’t see it! MW climbs the rope as Marx gets to his feet. MW lunges off with a diving shoulderblock, but the referee takes the hit! What just happened there!?”
R.W.: “I can’t tell if Marx pulled the ref in to take the shot, or if Grossard was aiming for the referee all along. In any case, MW is going over to the chair…”
T.R.: “Marx is still out of it, and MW goes to swing the chair. Marx ducks it, kicks MW in the gut as MW drops the chair. DDT unto the chair by Marx! Both men are seemingly unconscious after that move, and the ref is out too!”
R.W.: “It’s already been a ten-count, easily, and none of the three men in the ring are showing signs of life. Security is coming down the ramp, but Marx looks to be awake… and now so is MW. Marx picks up the chair like he’s going to hit MW with it…”
T.R.: “But Marx has thrown the chair back to the outside. MW is up with an exploder… low blow?! Wow… that can’t be fun. MW following through with a huge scoop slam, most of the pressure on the lower area of Marx’s torso.”
J.S.: “He basically just picked up Marx by his crotch… no fun there. And now he’s going up top…”
T.R.: “Indeed, MW mounts the exposed turnbuckle, and signals for an elbow drop… he better watch it with that injured arm of his… he taunts the crowd and they cheer, and he leaps!”
R.W.: “And Marx rolls out of the way!”
T.R.: “And MW Grossard is showing some signs of ring rust on that one.”
J.S.: “And no wonder, the guy…er… him… er… um… MW hasn’t wrestled in a while.”
T.R.: “MW is writhing in pain as Marx tries to revive the referee who has just begun to stir. Marx now goes for… yes… the STF! He has MW locked in the STF in the middle of the ring. MW can’t even go to crawl to the ropes, his arm is in so much pain. MW tries to prop himself up the arm, but it gives way under his own weight. Marx continues to wrench back on the bloody head of Grossard and the referee is checking in. MW is out, and the referee is calling for the bell!"
MATT FALEY: "Ladies and gentlemen, your winner… JONATHAN MARX!!"
(Marx gets an unusually cold reaction from the crowd as he raises his hand in victory, face trickling with blood. He grimaces at the crowd, and walks back up the ramp. MW Grossard is still passed out in the ring.)
R.W.: “What an incredible match… wow. It could have gone either way. I’m just surprised the referee didn’t call the match due to bloodshed earlier on.”
T.R.: “In grueling matches like that one, the referee doesn’t want to disappoint either competitor with a No Contest ruling."
R.W.: “And right now, as MW Grossard is helped to the back, we have to get ready for our Four-way Tag Team match!”
TONY ROSS: ““But first, let's go to the back, where Lady V is standing with a team that's destined to make a....uh....Major Impact.....here in Great Lakes...... “
J.S.: ”Nobody likes getting dropped on their head…"
T.R.: “Just ask Jake.”
J.S.: “…just ask Tony.”
T.R: “…”
J.S.: “…”
R.W.: “Their mini-feud is about to be settled here, at Ringlords. Marx is a man of submissions and takedowns, while MWG is more of… well… dirty player, shall we say.
J.S.: “The guy likes going after the ‘quote-unquote’ ‘mid-section’ of his opponents.”
R.W.: “Exactly, amongst some other tactics which are less than technically appealing.”
T.R.: “In any case, let’s take it to the ring, and GLCW’s own Matt Faley.
(CUT-TO: Matt Faley standing in the ring. CUE-UP: "Wax Ecstatic (to Sell Angelina)" by Sponge.)
MATT FALEY: "The following match up is scheduled for one-fall. Introducing first, from… (Matt scratches his head) somewhere where the sun shines and birds sing... weighing 202 pounds, he is M.W. GROSSARD!!"
(MWG comes down to a huge mixed reaction of half-pop, half-boos. He is wearing a ridiculous zebra print trench and pink tights. He struts down to the ring, gives Matt Faley a wink, and ducks under the second rope. CUE-UP: “Only Happy When It Rains” by Garbage.)
M.F.: “And his opponent, hailing from Princeton, New Jersey and weighing in at 215 pounds, he is “THE GENTLEMEN" JONATHAN MARX!!"
(Crowd gives Marx quite a bit of heat as he comes down the ramp, his eyes staying focused on the ring. He is dressed in black tights, and he dives under the bottom rope, and begins to pace in the ring opposite MWG.)
T.R.: “The bell rings and here we go. M.W. walks right up to Marx… and slaps him across the face!”
R.W.: “Wow, the cheap seats could hear all of that one.”
J.S.: “Hey, I’m right up front, but sitting with you two losers certainly de-values my seat. Besides, Ross over here smells like he just made his own salsa con queso…”
T.R.: “Marx is motioning for MW to hit him again! MW rears back, and Marx with the reverse armbar. MW makes a dash for the ropes and gets there before too much damage is done. Marx now, towing on the leg of MW. Marx now with a mounted armbar, MW reaching out again, but Marx breaks the hold. Marx now, letting MW up. Marx calling for the test of strength… and MW takes it. MW with a kick to the mid-section, ouch!”
J.S.: “Looked like a nut-shot to me, but hey… I’m not the commentator.”
R.W.: “Thank god… I don’t even wanna think about what the show’d be like if you did the play-by-play.”
J.S.: “How’s this for play-by-play, WiseAss? “Ricky goes in, derobes and climbs into bed with his woman. Things are getting hot, and OH! That’s no woman, that’s M.W. Grossard, and whatever creepy surgeries that freak’s had, they missed a snip. DENIED!’”
T.R.: “MW follows up with a snap suplex, and now he’s propped on the bottom rope with one foot, well the other is choking Marx out. The referee breaks the choke, and MW looks agitated. MW hoists Marx up again, and throws him to the ropes. Marx comes back with a diving clothesline, and connects! MW rolls out of the ring to collect himself, and Marx stays in, taunting Grossard back into the ring. Grossard now, calling Marx to the outside. Marx waves MW off and walks away as MW taunts the crowd lewdly. Marx running toward MW and baseball slides MW in the face. Marx on the outside and it looks like this one is going to get ugly.”
R.W.: “Wait… Marx is rolling MW back in the ring… odd.”
J.S.: “Not really, this guy is pure old-school mat-wrestling, ass.”
R.W.: “Now I’ve just about had enough…”
T.R.: “And now Marx is again working the arm of MW, wrenching it back in a hammerlock of sorts. Marx twists, and takes Grossard down with an armdrag. Again Marx grabs hold of the arm, and applies a wristlock. Grossard tries to power out, but instead somersaults out of the move, and flips Marx over. Marx is up and MW hits him with a hip toss, and another, and a counter by Marx, only to be countered again by MW. Grossard whips Marx to the ropes and hits a huge, single-arm swinging DDT. Marx looks to be toast as MW goes for the cover, 1…2…3!!! NO!!! Marx got the shoulder up, and MW is furious. MW pushes the ref, and proceeds to bite Marx’s forehead. MW now mounting Marx, and begins pummeling his head and face. Marx has a crimson mask! The referee pulls MW off of Marx so he can assess the damage. Apparently Marx wants to continue!”
J.S.: “Of course he does… he can always get a blood transfusion to refill his body’s blood supply, but they don’t make pride transfusions. Once Marx’s out, that’s when the fat lady is singing.”
R.W.: “Odd… but insightful.”
J.S.: “Thanks Rick… you jackass.”
T.R.: “Grossard has again rolled to the outside. Marx comes up on him, and MW pulls Marx out of the ring. MW whips him into the safety barrier, and follows through with a running knee to the gut. Another whip to the corner barrier, and Marx is really bleeding quite a bit.”
J.S. “No pun intended, right Tony?”
T.R.: “Pun?”
J.S.: “Bit… bit… as in… Grossard bit Jonathan Marx’s face off?”
T.R.: “No… no pun intended. Marx looks very out of it as the ref is getting to the end of the ten count. MW rolls in and the ref is having some words with him. Marx seems to getting his bearings, as he climbs the apron. MW charges Marx, but Marx answers with a kick in the gut, and a sunset flip. 1… 2 and MW kicks out. Marx wrestling MW unto his back, and applying a half Nelson to the worked arm of MW Grossard. Marx has got him in the center of the ring, and MW is shaking his head ‘no.’ MW begins to pound the mat rhythmically, getting the crowd behind him.
R.W.: “Well, I didn’t expect this crowd to get behind someone like Grossard, but when a man’s down, he’s down I guess.”
T.R.: “Grossard inching towards the ropes… his face one of pure anguish… can he make it?”
R.W.: “He got it! He got the rope!”
T.R.: “Marx breaks the hold and whips Grossard to the corner. MW counters and whips Marx into the turnbuckle. Grossard turns around to the corner opposite Marx’s and removes the top turnbuckle pad… Marx charges into Grossard, and MW side-steps. Marx just barely puts on the brakes in time to avoid a head-on collision with that steel turnbuckle.”
J.S.: “Steel turnbuckle? It looks more like iron to me… whys everything steel in this business? Chairs? Ladders? Cages? All that stuff can’t be steel… it doesn’t make any sense… (trails off)
T.R.: “Right… MW grabs Marx from behind and… what the hell is he doing? Marx with a duck behind and a snap German suplex. No bridge, and Marx springs up, his face still ruby red. MW is up, and goes after Marx. Marx with a quick drop-toe and Grossard’s face goes right into the exposed turnbuckle. Grossard is cut open too! Marx turns Grossard around, and MW goes for a wild haymaker.”
R.W.: “I doubt he can even see Marx in that red fog. Marx captures him, and pulls MW in a crossface/nelson combination. Marx wrenching back on the bloody head and damaged arm of MW.”
T.R.: “MW again waving off the ref’s request for a submission, and claws tooth and nail for the ropes… the crowd again really getting behind MW. Marx releases the arm, but keeps the head in a clutch position, pulling back. MW getting closer and closer… and he’s got the rope! Max pulls him back by the head! MW looks to be outta luck here! But wait!! MW has propped himself up on one knee, and Marx is releases the hold! Marx hoisting MW up for a double-arm suplex, but MW wriggles out of it. Marx off the ropes, and MW hits a huge spinebuster out of NOWHERE! Both men are down as the momentum from that move rolls MW out to the floor.”
R.W.: “Both men are bloody, battered, and beaten. The ref hasn’t even started the ten-count because he’s checking to make sure Marx is still alive after that spinebuster.”
T.R.: “MW is stirring on the outside. He’s taking a chair from ringside, and tossing it in the ring. The ref doesn’t see it! MW climbs the rope as Marx gets to his feet. MW lunges off with a diving shoulderblock, but the referee takes the hit! What just happened there!?”
R.W.: “I can’t tell if Marx pulled the ref in to take the shot, or if Grossard was aiming for the referee all along. In any case, MW is going over to the chair…”
T.R.: “Marx is still out of it, and MW goes to swing the chair. Marx ducks it, kicks MW in the gut as MW drops the chair. DDT unto the chair by Marx! Both men are seemingly unconscious after that move, and the ref is out too!”
R.W.: “It’s already been a ten-count, easily, and none of the three men in the ring are showing signs of life. Security is coming down the ramp, but Marx looks to be awake… and now so is MW. Marx picks up the chair like he’s going to hit MW with it…”
T.R.: “But Marx has thrown the chair back to the outside. MW is up with an exploder… low blow?! Wow… that can’t be fun. MW following through with a huge scoop slam, most of the pressure on the lower area of Marx’s torso.”
J.S.: “He basically just picked up Marx by his crotch… no fun there. And now he’s going up top…”
T.R.: “Indeed, MW mounts the exposed turnbuckle, and signals for an elbow drop… he better watch it with that injured arm of his… he taunts the crowd and they cheer, and he leaps!”
R.W.: “And Marx rolls out of the way!”
T.R.: “And MW Grossard is showing some signs of ring rust on that one.”
J.S.: “And no wonder, the guy…er… him… er… um… MW hasn’t wrestled in a while.”
T.R.: “MW is writhing in pain as Marx tries to revive the referee who has just begun to stir. Marx now goes for… yes… the STF! He has MW locked in the STF in the middle of the ring. MW can’t even go to crawl to the ropes, his arm is in so much pain. MW tries to prop himself up the arm, but it gives way under his own weight. Marx continues to wrench back on the bloody head of Grossard and the referee is checking in. MW is out, and the referee is calling for the bell!"
MATT FALEY: "Ladies and gentlemen, your winner… JONATHAN MARX!!"
(Marx gets an unusually cold reaction from the crowd as he raises his hand in victory, face trickling with blood. He grimaces at the crowd, and walks back up the ramp. MW Grossard is still passed out in the ring.)
R.W.: “What an incredible match… wow. It could have gone either way. I’m just surprised the referee didn’t call the match due to bloodshed earlier on.”
T.R.: “In grueling matches like that one, the referee doesn’t want to disappoint either competitor with a No Contest ruling."
R.W.: “And right now, as MW Grossard is helped to the back, we have to get ready for our Four-way Tag Team match!”
TONY ROSS: ““But first, let's go to the back, where Lady V is standing with a team that's destined to make a....uh....Major Impact.....here in Great Lakes...... “