Coffin Surfer

Houston and The Twin Towers actually had more playoff success than the early Jordan/Bulls, even reaching the finals and making a decent run against Bird's Celtics. What does that prove, absolutely nothing about anything. Silly question.

People forget what a beast the Dream was those years before the injury. The last of the great truly dominating centers, not even the younger more athletic Shaq could keep up with him. Those spin moves on the post.....damn.

Eh..I doubt Tony had the girlfriend killed. They did somewhat drop hints that she was possibly not well, something about headaches. The problem is that Hesh now distrusts T and could suspect her death to be foul play; burning what was left of their bridge.

What did Dallas in last night was shit lazy defense, they looked like they were two steps behind Golden State on every play. Lay up, lay up, wide open shot, wide open shot, lay up. Dirk came out on fire, crashing the boards, dropping short jump shots from the baseline and midrange like he should have been doing the whole series. Than he just gave up and went out like a punk, pathetic. I still think Dallas will win the series but I doubt they'll get past Phoenix.

I haven't seen a great deal of the 50's to judge, but from the late 60s to mid 70s the overall quality was pretty incredible. People like to say they didn't play defense but the real reason for the inflated scores is that the offense and work rate was just that outstanding. Watch a guy like Havlicek, this guy is sprinting full force for an entire game(sometimes several overtimes), executing everything perfectly, dropping shots effortlessly, playing hard d, constantly moving. It's unreal. He would run circles around anybody today, anybody. Check out the Boston/Phoneix 76 finals series if you don't believe me, either team would dominate or at least raise serious havoc today. They would probably even give Jordan's Bulls a serious run. The decline in the NBA can be traced to numerous things....poor work habits, the death of college development, over expansion. You name it.

Those certainly weren't THE Showtime Lakers. The show closed a few years before this actually as the Bad Boys won the past couple titles, are you being serious? Now if it was the 87 Lakers vs. 96 Bulls, things would be alot more interesting I believe.

I don't think there's ever been better athletes to play basketball than Chamberlain, Havlicek and Oscar Roberstson and they played in the sixities. People always see the image of Chamberlain's time in L.A. when his health declined and forget how agile and quick used to be in his early days, puts any big man from today to shame in terms of physical ability; and it would be very scary to see what would happen if he peaked in an age where it would be illegal to triple team somebody before they touched ball. Overall, you may have a point but guys like that could excel in most any era. I'd say the NBA probably peaked in the 80s and early 90s in terms of skill/athleticism, and sheer number of great players.

"Yeah, but Stephen Jackson and Al Harrington and Matt Barnes all have freakishly wide wingspand enabling them to play alot bigger than they are." But it's not like they are going to swat down his short fadeway or pull up, that can't be stopped. The point is that Dirk is drawing the double when he makes his move on the inside, it's just there is nowhere to go with it most of the time. I'm not applying Dirk is going to get Shaq rushed when he touches in the post but there is something there to exploit. "Plus Dirk sets shitty screens so the Warriors guards have just been stepping through it and not switching." Eh....he's generally effective at getting Terry open at the very least. Though I haven't really seen it attempted much in this series, hell more screens from anybody would be a good idea especially when you have so many slashers.

"Because he isn't a more than capable scorer with his back to the basket. his strength is his slashing which makes bigs have to give him room, and that deadly jumpshot makes you pay for giving him that room." Not when he's being guarded by smaller players. Dirk is doubled frequently when he's posting against the smaller man for obvious reasons, it's just he ends up having to throw the ball away to somebody that isn't in position to do anything or he has to take a bad shot until four flaying arms. I also don't see the effective pick and roll they used so well last year, where Dirk could easily shoot over the smaller man from midrange.

Yeah, Dallas still wasn't very convincing. I don't think they'll drop both games at Golden State as I'm sure they have some confidence back, but they still aren't playing that great. Again, I'm puzzled as to why they don't better utilize Dirk on the inside and make them pay for the double/triple teams. Dirk seems to be a more than capable feeder when he has somebody to dish to, why nobody is spotting up or cutting to the basket is a mystery to me.

Speaking of Patton, you could throw in "Director's Cut" from Fantomas as a unique outing, since their other releases are more Zorn inspired cut up music, even "Delirium.." to some degree. Speaking of Zorn, perhaps "Absinthe" from Naked City.

Dallas pretty much showed the same weakness they've shown all year, a fucking terrible offensive system. Every trip down the court, it's up to one guy to pretty much create his own shot, while the other four stand around with their thumbs up their ass. They have plenty of excellent one on one scorers so this works for the most part, but in situations like last night, a smart team can easily shut it down. I can't see them beating well oiled machines like Phoenix with constant isolation like this(hell, nobody is even slashing or spotting up for the double team), and yes, they may not even beat Nelson's Golden State.

"Damnation"-Opeth And I actually think it's their best.

The Tornoto/Nets game ended up being pretty fun, and I wasn't even interested in the series. Miami bitching about officiating is pretty funny, especially in a game where one of the Bull's stars picked up 4 fouls in like 7 minutes of play, including a Wade flop. Today's sports headlines read something like "Shaq calls out refs......after Bull's win." WTF? Utah fell apart in the second half, but there going to be much more dangerous than I originally thought to Houston.

I very much enjoy the first Mineral album, especially the oddly moving noise guitars. I really wouldn't consider them emo these days, at one time maybe, but the term doesn't really apply to that type of music anymore. Now they do probably have more in common with My Bloody Valentine types.

Unforuantely, I'm out until further notice as time has not been on my side lately.

Barlow brought some damn good ham to "Angel Holocaust" and I mean that in the best way possible. Easily, my favorite Iced Earth song. "Dark Saga aka the Spawn Album" was harmless fun as well.

Good to see Wlad/Brewster II is on. This should answer some questions about Wlad's confidence and improving skill, and Brewster is always durable and dangerous. It also seems that Pete/Oleg is finally going to happen with Vitali apparently dropping out now, while Sultan/Briggs at the very least can hopefully inch us closer to a unifcation bout. This should be a pretty interesting summer for Heavyweight boxing.

"Have you heard her track from the Rolling Stones "Rock n Roll Circus"? The jam is awesome and then she just starts wailing and screaming. It's not for me but if you like her stuff you'd probably love it. The disc itself is awesome to, Lennon leading a "supergroup" in Yer Blues, The Who, Jethro Tull and of course the Stones. The track is called "Whole Lotta Yoko"." I've been meaning to hear the "Yer Blues" performance for some time, didn't know they jammed with Yoko as well. Thanks.

"I've never heard anyone who liked that song. Guess nothing can surprise me anymore, I just found it to be noise. " I'm also a huge Yoko Ono fan...well at least before she tried to do "proper songs." I prefer her to be screeching and sexually moaning over funky rock jams. The Lennon/Yoko stuff can be patience testing but Yoko's Plastic Ono Band release rocks. "I think Abbey Road is tremendous" I should revisit that one day, though I'm more of a "Blue Jay Way" man than a "Here Comes the Sun" one. " and the White Album is probably their best sounding work overall." It has some of my favorite moments but it also has too much stuff I don't really care for.

Next to "Happiness is A Warm Gun," "Revolution 9" is probably my favorite track off the White Album. Scary, hilarious, and head scratching at the same time. I personally find the other "Honey Pie" to be more offensive. "I like these songs...", at least somebody does. Oddly enough, "Magic Mystery Tour" is the only post Pepper era Beatles album I can get through, and it's not even a real album.

Complete nonsense! Early and Mid 90s All Japan is the perfect place to start. Some of the most colorful characters to ever grace the ring like Jumbo, Kobashi, Taue, and Fuchi as well as some of the coolest in Kawada and Misawa. The style is the possible peak of heayvweight work rate and athleticism. Than you have some of the most energetic and exciting performances and crowds ever. Nothing wrong with that. I blame years of bad information as the source of this misunderstanding. Why people don't get the style is a mystery to me. Here's some musings: -While there are faces and heels, the roles do switch from match to match depending on the situation though there's nothing subtle about it. -A lack of mat work and submission wrestling that States fans normally associate with greatness. -Difficutly accepting strikes as major offensive weapons or finishers even if their stiff as fuck. -Reading to much into back story when the real story is unfolding right in front of their faces. ALL the classics are stand alone and self explantory. Lead in matches help but are by no means essential. Yes, even 6/3/94 is easy to grasp without seeing a single previous match between the two. -Heavy early exposure to sluggish late 90s All Japan when head drops and bizzare selling became the norm as the match ups became stale and injuries/age slowed everybody down. -The odd American internet fan's over emphasis on limb work. Just because a guy was in arm bar doesn't mean he has to sell it like death for the rest of the fucking match! -A lack of bulging muscles and wavy hair???? -A lack of WWF Attitude era over the top trash talking and in your face characters? As even asshole heels like Kawada and Taue are much more humble in comparision to top US faces like Austin, early Hogan, and the like. If a US fan can't get into something like Misawa/Kobashi/Kawada vs. Jumbo/Fuchi/Taue 4/91 there is no hope. Some of the most fun you can have watching a wrestling match, end of story. If Kawada flipping off Fuchi doesn't bring a smile to your face, or you can't enjoy team Jumbo dicking over Kobashil while school girls in the crowd cry, than I don't know what to say.

1) Jack Bauer - 24 vs (2) Theodore 'T-Bag' Bagwell - Prison Break SOUTHERN DIVISION FINALISTS (1) Vic Mackie - The Shield vs (2) Simon Adebisi-Oz EASTERN DIVISION FINALISTS (1) Angelus - Buffy/Angel vs (5) Andy Sipowicz-NYPD Blue vs (10) Dr. Gregory House - House M.D. For the love of fuck, House making it this far is pathetic; over Deadwood's Al no less. Disgraceful. This is badass not smartass. WESTERN DIVISION FINALISTS (1) Tony Sorpano-The Sopranos vs (2) Ryan O'Reily - Oz vs (10) Macgyver - Macgyver

“COME AND ‘AVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” “COME AND ‘AVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” The great “Rookie” by Boy Sets Fire has apparently been mugged backstage and replaced by the grumbling bassline of “The Gush” by Raging Speedhorn. This does nothing to confuse the sold out Acer Arena as thousands of thumbs simultaneously drop to an orchestra of jeers. Wearing his Pay Per View best, Fulton announces the match in a booming operatic baritone that puts Meatloaf too shame. “The following singles contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first: from Nottingham, England, weighing at a trim 218 pounds, Michael Stephens!!!!!” Dressed more like he’s going to a punk concert than a fight, a trench coat wearing figure that appears to be Michael Stephens swaggers out of the locker room. However, the fans know better; they recognize the smirk, the arrogance, and most importantly the bitter resentment smeared across his pretty boy face. They call him by his name; well, they do a little more than that. “Toxxic Sucks! Toxxic Sucks! Toxxic Sucks!” Entering the ring, Toxxic takes in the several thousand head crowd with a cocky grin. He bathes in their thunderous insults with pride, even busting out a few poses to further aggravate them; silently contemplating how much fun it is going to be to piss all over their parade. Somewhere, he hopes that Janus is watching too; after all, he’s the one that should be getting crushed tonight. Francis: Since losing the title, Michael Stephens has gradually undergone a transformation for the worst. King: Were just finally seeing the real Mike Stephens, the winning sensation simply known as Toxxic. Francis: How is losing the tag titles sensational? King: Landon lost the belts, Toxxic carried dead weight across a desert. With Toxxic in the ring, there’s only one other person that could possibly be coming to the ring next. All eyes turn to the dresser room, their quivering anticipation stretching seconds until hours. “And his opponent, hailing from Louisville, Kentucky; weighing in at 275 pounds; he is a former FOUR TIME SWF WORLD CHAMPION!!!! “ Hordes of mad Australians mass at the guardrail, all intent on getting a closer look at the near mythical warrior whose legendary feats were nothing but a distant memory of better days. “DANNY WILLIAMsssssssssssssssssssssssss!!!!” Until now! Already sweating from a vigorous pre-match warm up that would kill a lesser man, Williams intensely marches out of the locker room. The arena is absolutely bedlam! Moving with controlled intensity, he purposefully walks down the aisle, his demonic eyes locked on the bloody task at hand. The applause peaks at ear bleeding levels as he enters the ring with primitive, beast like movements. His presence is as awe inspiring as it is menacing, built like a monster his face looks like it was crudely carved from stone; his molten blue eyes burning behind wavy bangs of oak colored hair. Hands folded, head titled, Toxxic stands unimpressed in his corner. Francis: No fans this is not a re-run, this is not a dream, Danny Williams is back and ready to take the SWF by storm! King: I got ten bucks that says he slips and gets injured on the way to the ring. Francis: A laundry list of past injuries aside, Danny does look to be in excellent shape, and most importantly he’s game as hell; promising his fans a final run they can be proud of. King: Yeah, we’ve hard that before. This guy has let his fans down more than a weekend dad. Francis: Jesus, King! Soapdish inspects both men thoroughly, predictably finding nothing on the code driven warriors. With both men in their corners and waiting for the bell, a surreal ambience lingers in the air. After the all epic hype, the moment doesn’t even seem real, but now it is unfolding before the fan’s very eyes; so fast in fact that they can barely take it all in before it’s started. The atmosphere is pure electricity, the rare match where everyone in the building cares about the outcome, the feeling that something epic is truly about to go down. Ding! Ding! Ding! They leave their corners with understated urgency, turning circles of precaution in the middle of the ring. The fans are beyond pumped; too excited to save their voices for later in the evening as they recklessly scream and cheer with throat bleeding intensity. Not only are they happy to see the unlikely return of Williams, but they are also being treated to the possibility of seeing someone prove Toxxic wrong. Seemingly oblivious to the fact that they’re at a wrestling match and not a soccer game, the thousands in attendance stomp and bellow, “Let’s Go Danny! Let’s Go!” like a drinking song at a local pub. Even the quiet, creepy bearded guy in sunglasses that mysteriously attends every SWF event without saying word gets in on the action, as well as the bored girlfriend of some lucky fan boy, in fact there isn’t a single soul in the building that isn’t merry and chanting. Francis: Call me crazy, but it looks like Williams has the quasi-home court advantage. King: Your crazy! There’s no such thing as crowd advantage. These morons hold as much bearing on the outcome of the match as the wet naps I wipe my BUTT with. Francis: You need more fiber and again, never underestimate the effect a wrestler’s fans can have on their performance. When you need that extra boost to get you out of a jam, you can always count on them. King: Yeah, yeah, quit acting like you’re the only one of us with ring experience. The size difference is immense, not in height but in mass. The soft looking Toxxic looks like a lamb being fed to a grizzly bear, yet there is more than cocky arrogance in his mannerisms. The razor sharp focus in his eyes suggests a man with something to prove, someone who’s hungry for violence, someone who is really freaking smart. Eyes narrow and focused, Williams moves in, closing the distance on his smaller foe. Knowing that he’ll be torn to pieces if he allows himself to get caught, Toxxic stays light on his feet, anticipating every move his powerful opponent can possibly make. Skilled in the fine art of cornering smaller mammals, Williams uses subtle foot movements to pin his elusive prey in a corner. The fans are on the edge of their seats, eager for the forth coming beat down. Confident that he just can reach out and grab his target, Williams takes a gamble! Like magic, Toxxic disappears in front of his very eyes! Off balance, Danny oafishly lunges into the corner with an embarrassing stumble; damn near tossing himself through the ropes. The pathetic sight is so painful to the watch that many fans can’t help but look away in disappointment. The arena quiets down rather quickly. Francis: Oh lord! Perhaps long periods of inactivity have finally caught up with Williams. King: You think? Williams wasn’t kidding when he said they’d be different wrestlers this time around. Not taking the time to scold himself in such a dire situation, Williams frantically untangles himself from the ropes. Expecting an attack, he turns to find Toxxic instead mocking his two left feet with a taunting Ali shuffle. Wanting nothing more than to knock that smirking block off his lanky shoulders, Williams once again lumbers after him. Toxxic once more obliges his predator with a suave defensive dance, but his movements are much less calculated and nervous this time, as if he thought he had to bring his A game only to just now realize that he could get by with a C. Showing no visible fear or even the faintest hint of doubt, he surprisingly instigates a quick grapple. Before he can apply even a fraction of pressure, Williams feels Toxxic suavely slip out of his clutches. A vicious European Uppercut finds its mark! Williams head snaps up in a cloud of sweat, his clinched teeth drawing blood from his ill placed tongue. Francis: Stephens…uh Toxxic, shockingly taking the fight right to Williams! King: He’s feeling him out, trying to get an idea of just how much he can get away with which evidently is a lot. Rubbing his jaw, Williams steps back, crimson trickling from his lips. Wearing his signature lopsided grin, Toxxic smugly beckons him to return fire, and Williams is more than willing to oblige! But the elbow smash is easily ducked! Wham! A swift dropkick counters! Williams teeters but he doesn’t go down! Whack! An ambushing kip up Enzugiri connects, blasting the back of Danny’s skull with a nasty crack! The sickening sound of boot on bone echoes throughout the arena, drawing gasps of horror from the legions of shocked fans! Unable to feel the mat, Williams stumbles backwards, falling, staggering into the ropes! Knowing he has to stay on his toes, Stephens rushes to his feet only to find a recovered Williams charging madly! Francis: Axe Bomber?! Swoooooosh! Stephens evades the clumsy blow with an athletic roll! King: Danny hasn’t lost a step, he’s lost miles. Had the wild swing connected it would have in all likely hood torn poor Toxxic’s head clean off! But it didn’t even come close. Struggling to stay on his prey’s heels, Williams awkwardly skids to a halt and picks up the chase! Standing tall and confident, Toxxic firmly holds his ground. Gaining speed, Williams snarls like a beast as he draws back his arm! Toxxic bravely remains statuesque! Danny swings! Toxxic smiles! CRACK! A snapping Superkick catches the side of Danny’s face with gruesome accuracy! A collective gasp of horror circles through the crowd. Stopped dead in his tracks, Williams aimlessly wanders away, tumbling through the ropes and falling to the floor! Worried, the fans come to their feet as one, their eyes wide with disbelief. Francis: Williams is hurt! Williams is hurt! King: Williams may be in shape but his ring instinct looks to be buried in more rust than the Tin Man’s ass crack. Toxxic was right; this bum really doesn’t belong in the same ring with him. Francis: After witnessing that sequence I may have to agree. Williams may have just severely injured himself with that poor showing of judgment. Urgently picking himself off the floor, Williams rubs the side of his face, his nerve endings alive with stinging anguish. Inside the ring, Toxxic quickly calculates the risks and takes off! Picking up blinding speed, he springs onto the top rope with cat like agility! Sensing a presence from above, Williams turns and draws back his elbow! Catching himself, Toxxic jumps back into the ring, inspects an invisible watch and flashes a goofy smile. Disgusted, the fans lower their thumbs in disapproval. It’s bad enough he’s dominating their beloved hero, but the fact that he’s making it look so easy strikes a nerve. “Toxxic Sucks! Toxxic Sucks!” Stephens loves it, relishing in his role as villain, as if it was the role he was born to play his entire life. King: Toxxic is back, bitches. Francis: Sadly, Williams is not. As much as I hate to admit this, he’s a mere shadow of his former self. Doubt creeps into the collective consciousness of the stunned spectators as they now fear the worst, what if Stephens is right, what if Danny really doesn’t belong in the same ring as him. They were expecting the monster that dominated the SWF so long ago, but that was simply wishful thinking. After all the injuries and time off, those heroic days long past are simply that, the past. Having bought a much needed break, Williams rubs his eye repeatedly, but for some reason it won’t say open. He hangs his head, struggling to accept what just happened, what he let happen. He feels betrayed by his own body; by the legs that won’t run as fast as he tales them, and the natural instincts that won’t react unless he tales them. The left side of his face begins to rise and reddened, consuming his eye with swollen flesh. The front roll fans gasp with terror and concern as they see a knot the size of a soft ball quickly grow under Danny’s skin and threaten to close his eye. King: I wager he’s going to be mighty sore in the morning. Francis: Dear god, what a horrific development. I’m not sure this match can continue, can it? King: It looks like he’s smuggling a midget beneath his eye lid. Knowing that this a worsening condition, Williams ponders if the match is even worth continuing, after all he’s not in nearly as in good shape as he thought he was. Left with no other choice, Soapdish starts to count him out. Danny’s good eye roams around the building, he sees all of his fans egging him to go on and try his best; he can’t just walk away and let them down again. Jolting back into the ring, he beats the count! Spotting the grotesque swelling from a mile away, Soapdish immediately steps in front of him. The fans are literary begging for the match to go on. Since he’s proven to be such a durable bastard in the past, the official gives Williams the benefit of the doubt; knowing that he’ll probably lose his job or be shot if he stops Danny Williams’ comeback match on swelling anyway. Francis: The match is going to continue! Kings: They decided that Williams couldn’t possibly get any uglier that he already was. With renewed vigor, Danny storms after a surprised Toxxic; crashing into him for the collar elbow tie up. Utilizing his vastly superior strength advantage, he quickly pushes the smaller man deep into the nearest corner; knowing that he can turn the tide with just one elbow. Williams gives the clean break but not without taking a swing at his cornered foe! Swoooosh! The slippery Toxxic ducks out of the corner before the elbow can even come close to reaching its intended destination! Francis: And Williams still can’t find his range. Cornered, Williams finds himself on the receiving end of a vicious flurry of speedy punches! King: That’s ok because Toxxic has plenty to spare. The blows connect stiffly with Danny’s eye, the sickening percussion of cold, hammered meat rattling throughout the arena like a symphony from the darkest corner of hell. Reaching out with frustration, Williams crudely snatches Toxxic by his throat and spins him back into the corner. Sizing his target up, Danny unleashes another knock out elbow! But it’s ducked again! “Like fighting smoke,” Williams reasons as he finds himself back in the corner without a prayer. Toxxic turns loose a flurry of hard head butts, doing his best to burst open the knot that’s slowly consuming Danny’s face! The brutal shots are so hard that they sound like a pumpkin being dropped from a building over and over again. With Williams looking dazed, Toxxic tries a whip as it would be to his advantage to keep things moving. Snatching the stunned big man by his wrist, Toxxic uses every ounce of his body weight to swing the big lug out of the corner! But Danny reverses! Thrown across the ring like a rag doll, Toxxic crashes into the turnbuckles with bone crushing force! BAM! The ring post nearly breaks in half from the impact while the arena comes alive with hope. Francis: Through raw power alone, Williams may have just turned the tide of this match up. King: What else is he going to do, think his way out of peril? Clutching his back, Toxxic rolls to the floor in obvious agony. On his hands and knees, Williams finds he can no longer open his eye. The knot looks terrible, pulsating and swelling to the point that his own mother couldn’t recognize him now. On the edge of their seats, the crowd urges him to get up and work a miracle. Rising like a phantom, another chant of “Let’s Go Danny!” envelops all other sound. Digging deep, Williams forgets about his eye and heroically rises, relieved to find that Toxxic is still ailing on the outside. Knowing that he can’t afford to hold anything back now, he takes aim and recklessly charges! With their jaws on the floor, the fans watch with fear and wander as Williams desperately dives through the ropes; grotesquely swollen eye or not! Francis: Elbow Suicida! Bam! A right hook catches Danny on his blindside, blasting him out of the sky like a clay pigeon! Sinking in despair, the fans mourn all that could have been. King: Rejected! Francis: That may very well have been Williams’ last and only chance to steal this match. King: Yeah, I honestly can’t see Toxxic giving him another stupid opening like that. Shaking his hand, Toxxic rolls inside, cursing himself for not thinking of a better counter. The fans greet him with an assault of jeers but he could care less, Williams is a shadow of his former self and it’s high time they realized it. On the outside, a half blind Williams struggles to his feet; the hideous lump still growing larger and larger by the second. He has trouble staying balanced, his head feeling as though it weighs over a hundred pounds on one side. The horrific sight is almost too much for some fans to bear as those with weaker stomachs cover their mouths in shock. Looking as though he’s wearing a basketball beneath his eyelid, Williams carries on like always, sluggishly slipping into the ring. Showing no mercy, Toxxic viciously slams knees into his disfigured face as he tries to rise. “Booooooooooooooooooooooo!” violently protests the outraged fans, knowing there’s little else they can do. Jerking Williams up by his wavy hair, Toxxic flashes a smile of pure venom. He steadies the swollen and mutilated Williams than WHAM! Pulls his face into a brutal jumping knee smash! Momentarily going limp, Williams lifelessly slides down the ropes and sinks to the canvas. Showing no mercy, Toxxic viciously knees at Williams’ mutilated face while he sits helplessly in the corner. In his eyes, Danny becomes more than just Danny he becomes Drake, Tom, Janus, everyone that is holding him back from the World Title that is rightfully his. King: Toxxic is bringing some serious hate! Francis: More like bratty angst. Fed up, Soapdish steps in. “He’s on the ropes, dammit!” scorns a passionate Soapdish, cursing himself for allowing the match to continue. Not wanting to risk losing on dq when he’s dominating so easily, Toxxic hesitantly gives Danny some room. Walking away with clinched fists, he paces to cool himself off, doing his best to remember that he’s just here to win the match not vent his frustrations over the past few months. The arena is like a tomb. King: There’s not going to be enough left of Williams to serve at McDonald’s. Francis: What a tragedy this has become, I never thought I’d see Williams this bad off before. Soapdish carefully inspects what was once the left eye of Williams, which refuses to stop swelling with buckets of internal hemorrhaging. Like a water balloon filled with too much water, it looks like it’s stretched to the bursting point. The inevitable finally comes to pass as he has no choice but to call the match off….but a strong hand grabs him by the shirt. Snarling, Williams shakes his head. Pushing the official aside, Williams starts to drag himself up right. Surprised by the cheering, Toxxic turns to find a determined Danny dragging himself up with the ropes. Aiming to knock him back down where he belongs, Toxxic marches across the ring and rips a mean spirited European Uppercut upside his chin! Williams goes down in a cloud of blood! Rubbing it in on the fans, Toxxic raises his hands in triumph when a beast like roar interrupts his victory party! Turning, he finds Williams stubbornly rising to his feet. Teeth clinched, fists balled up, adrenaline flowing through his naked veins, his good eye alive with rage, the grotesquely swollen monster defiantly screams, “Is that all you got, you pussy!” Francis: Williams is going on nothing but heart now. King: Is that what they call bats**t crazy these days? Toxxic knows Williams has a ton of heart, and isn’t too surprised by the fact he managed to get up after such beating. No matter, aiming to knock Danny’s thick skull right back off, Toxxic rips lose another Uppercut! That’s dodged! Suavely slipping behind his attacker, Williams hooks his big arms around his chin, clamping on a tight, suffocating Sleeperhold! Pandemonium breaks out in the stands, as rumbling feet and screams of joy threatening to shake the building apart. Francis: Williams suckered him right into a trap! King: You’re telling me Danny actually used that pea sized brain of his? Francis: Yes. King: Good for him. Madly flinging his arms about, Toxxic searches for the ropes, the ref, anything that can relieve the crushing pressure! Williams hangs on with all his might, knowing that this is only chance for victory. Feeling his greatest attribute, his energy, being rapidly drained from his body, Toxxic urgently runs for the nearest corner, scaling the turnbuckles! One! Two! Three! But Williams rips him right back down, swinging him around by his neck like a key chain; dragging him to the inescapable hell mouth that is the center of the ring! Soapdish moves in as the Toxxic’s oxygen deprived face starts to turn a dark shade of purple. Francis: This could be it! Williams may have stolen this match! King: Ironically outsmarting his athletically superior opponent. I didn’t see that one coming. Refusing to admit defeat at the hands of such an inferior, undeserving, steroid pumping trash; Toxxic aimlessly wanders in circles, questing for a salvation that doesn’t exist. Williams hangs on, knowing that all he has to do is keep the hold applied and the day is his; he proved that annoying little shit wrong. Soapdish stays close, watching the ailing Toxxic with a careful eye; constantly grabbing at his arms to make sure he can hold them up. Toxxic grabs Williams behind his head with weary arms, desperately clinging for anything he can get his hands on. Francis: We might see a stoppage if Toxxic passes out before submitting. Suddenly, Toxxic cuts toward the official with a brilliant flash of speed! Running up Soapdish like Sonic the Hedgehog, Stephens back flips off his shoulders, and for the briefest of seconds, supernaturally walks on air! BOOM! Crashing to the canvas, Stephens slams the back of Danny’s skull into the mat with ring shaking force! Francis: Sunny Day in England off the ref!? King: I would have just kicked Danny in the balls, but if it works, it works. Francis: Love him or hate him, this has been a near flawless performance from Toxxic, he is putting on one hell of a clinic! The fans leave their chairs, mouths open with bittersweet shock. They feel privileged to have just witnessed such a supernatural demonstration of athleticism and skill, but they simply cannot bring themselves to applaud the otherwise amazing feat. Instead, the fans turn a concerned eye to Danny, who might very well have had his last hope crushed into dust. Yet Toxxic isn’t in good shape himself, having been nearly suffocated; he lays on his back, gasping for air. Though nobody wants the match to end this way, Soapdish has no choice but to start the count. “One!” “Two!” “Three!” Toxxic lazily starts to stir while Williams clinches the back of his head, grimacing with pain; doubting if his opponent is a human bound to our laws of gravity. “Four!” “Five!” “Six!” Toxxic searches for motivation, the belt that should be his, the satisfaction of proving everyone in the building wrong. Williams doesn’t have to search for motivation as he hears the music of the crowd rallying behind him, their energy running through his veins as if it was his own. Sure he got outsmarted but this match is far from over, and the little bastard still hasn’t gotten up yet. “Seven!“ “Eight!” “NINE!” Williams pushes himself off the mat, oblivious to the throbbing headache that is no doubt a mighty concussion, perhaps even oblivious to his own actions. Meanwhile, Toxxic drags himself up right as well, slapping himself around in the hopes of clearing the cobwebs. He turns! BLAM! Only to be run over by an out of control dump truck named Danny Williams! The desperate, sloppy shoulder tackle leaves both men on their backs but only one appears to be dead, and it isn’t the guy with a knot on his face the size of China. Francis: With the help of the fans, Danny reached his feet first! King: He just has more skull than brain, tragic really. Knowing that he has Toxxic hurt, Williams frantically crawls to his feet. Toxxic is down, struggling to raise his head off the mat, his eyes glassy and somber. This the big chance, Danny’s been waiting for. The chance to land a single decisive blow! Raising his arm in the air, he adjusts his elbow pad. Knowing what this means, the fans triumphantly cheer; contempt that their support has got Williams through a lousy night. Francis: Williams is actually in position to win this match up! What a comeback in every sense of the word. Williams drags Toxxic upright by his hair, the Straightedge Sensation’s glazed eyes rolling in the back of his skull. Drawing back his massive arm, Williams channels everything he has into the swing! For the pride that Toxxic tried to steal from him, for the legacy he never full filled, and most of all for the fan’s he let down and neglected time and time again, Williams unleashes it all into this one single crushing blow! Francis: AXE BOMBER! That’s blocked by quick, instinctive forearms! Toxxic goes down hard, but he avoided most of the impact. Doubled over in pain, Williams cradles his arm into his chest, the pain so numbing that it feels as though it’s been amputated! Francis: Danny’s Lariat arm has a list of career threatening injuries from here to Japan. King: Who would have thought that wildly swinging your arm at everything in sight would result in chronic injury? Scrambling to his feet, Toxxic forces himself into quick effective action. Getting his rubbery legs beneath him, he uses the spring action cables to launch a sneak attack on his helpless foe; wildly throwing his body into Danny’s ankle! “Booooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” protests the fans, outraged by the cowardly sneak attack to Danny’s historically injured foot. Riving in agony, Williams tightly clinches his ankle with his recently recovered arm in a vain attempt at stopping the pain from shooting further up his leg. He’s confident the ankle held up to the attack, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s going to hurt like hell for a few minutes; give or take. King: Wow, I completely forgot about Danny’s bad ankle. Francis: I must say that’s some impressive research, though I’m going to have to agree with the fans on this one. If Toxxic is so much better than Danny why does he need to dick over an old injury to take the advantage? King: Because he’s smart enough too. Unsure of the ankle, Danny slowly rises to a single knee when Toxxic sneaks up on his blindside like a thief at 3:00 am. With a look of indifference, the Sensation viciously blasts Danny’s mutilated eye with a sickening Basement Dropkick! Face buried in hands, Williams lies still; apparently in too much pain to even scream. Now resembling caged, saliva dripping animals just waiting to find a way out of their prison and into the ring, the blood thirsty fans scream with murderous hate: “TOXICC SUCKS! TOXXIC SUCKS! TOXXIC SUCKS!!! Stumbling to his feet, Toxxic flips off the rabid crowd with grouchy disgust. He simply doesn’t understand what’s so wrong about what he’s doing, reasoning that if it was anybody but Williams he was punishing they’d be cheering him on. These people are nothing but hypocrites and all he once to do is win the damn match fair and square. Shaking his head from side to side, Toxxic clears the remaining cobwebs from his head and schemes up his next move. King: Toxxic is dissecting Williams like a frog in a high school. Francis: Danny’s proved to be much more resilient than we originally suspected, but that eye has become a huge liability that Toxxic is only going to take more and more advantage of. Sensing that Williams has nothing left to offer, Toxxic decides it’s time to take this one home. Having foreseen his victory many times before the match, his movements are smooth and confident as he curiously drags his prey into a front face lock. He smiles as he hooks a leg, very much aware of the metaphoric aspects of the situation. In addition to being the only move he knows he can truly knock Danny out with, it’s something that he would never consider doing as Michael Stephens; technical wrestler of pointless ethics. Drawing his thumb across his throat, he let’s the fans know that it’s curtains for their hero. Francis: Oh no, you don’t think? King: Well, it wouldn’t be a great Toxxic match without one. The fans come to their feet, trembling with nervous anxiety. They know what Toxxic is up to, and they know what will happen if he pulls it off. Knowing that Danny isn’t going to be exactly light lift, the junior heavyweight fills his lungs with the muggy air of the arena, hoping he can muster enough strength for the lift. Getting his legs into it, he dips low, and lifts! Strenuous shoots through his entire body but much to his surprise, he gets Danny in the air. Tasting the sweet nectar of victory, Toxxic painfully jumps into the air, and twists! CRUNCH! Francis: CAFEEINE BOMB!!! King: He’s not doing it for Pepsi, he’s not doing it for Coke he did it for his own damn self and power to him. Much to the shock of the fans, Williams gets right back up, but it’s clear right away he’s not himself! Swaying around as if he’s on a sinking ship, Williams suddenly collapses in a lifeless heap. Williams is dead, Toxxic is spent, and the arena is as silent as the grave. They did what they could to will Danny back into the match, but deep down they knew he never stood a chance, the glory days are gone and they’re not coming back. They’re grateful that Danny tried and never gave up, but that still doesn’t take the sour taste out of their mouths. Francis: I absolutely hate the fact Toxxic has had to stoop this low to pull off the win! We don’t need more guys like me in wheel chairs rolling around here. King: More grumpy cripples like you? I’ll drink to that. Toxxic sits up to a deathly silent arena. This is surprising as he half expected these blood thirty mutants to be going nuts for the head drop regardless of who it was. No matter, it’s good to have finally shut them up he reasons. Turning over, he’s relieved to find the grotesquely disfigured Williams lying motionless on his back. This may have been a relatively easy win but his constant movement, the brief but deadly Sleeper, and the draining lift have took a ton out of him; much more than he expected. Without a moment to lose, he goes for the cover. It’s as if the souls of everyone in the building have been torn from their bodies as they broken heartedly watch Soapdish start what can only be the conclusive count. One! Two! ……… THREE! NO, DANNY KICKS OUT! As if brought back to life by lightening, the surprised fans roar as one. They recall Williams surviving some serious brushes with death but nothing quite like this! In a state of shock, Toxxic rolls off Williams and slams his fist into the canvas. “Bollocks!” he curses. Francis: Danny Williams has become the first person since Annie Electric to kick out of the Caffeine Bomb! King: Yeah, but he’s in a bad way. Francis: It doesn’t even matter if he wins or loses anymore, King. Danny Williams has made one hell of a statement. King: What, that he can still take a good beating? Bravo, I suppose. Not sure if he can muster another Caffeine Bomb so soon, Toxxic quickly thinks up another plot. Without a second to lose, he goes to work like a pretzel maker. Trapping Danny’s arm in a cartilage tearing chickenwing, Toxxic viciously stretches his victim into a suffocating Dragon Sleeper! A body scissors is the cherry on top, trapping poor Danny in the tenth level of hell with no means of escape! Francis: REPEAT TO FADE! King: If he can’t knock Danny out, he’ll make him wish he was in a coma. Toxxic concentrates all of the pressure of the Dragon Sleeper directly on the monster sized knot consuming Danny’s eye, forcefully pushing it back into his skull! Feeling as though dull bolts are being driven into his head and piercing his brain, Williams finds himself uncontrollably screaming! The scene is difficult to watch, drawing a symphony of “oohs” and gasps from the repulsed crowd. Having a hard time stomaching the scene himself, Soapdish asks Williams if he wants to just quit and call it a night. “Nooooo!” howls Williams in between cries of pain. Putting his all into the hold, Toxxic squeezes as hard as he possibly can; tensing his muscles until they can’t possibly flex any harder. He feels the knot pulsate and throb under his forearm, the thin skin no longer able to contain the flowing rivers of blood within Danny’s face. Williams lets out a strained, soul curdling scream as he feels the skin above his eye burst like a balloon. A geyser of blood thickly spurts from the small but gaping wound, painting both men and the ring around them in bright crimson showers. The surreal horror of the scene is beyond comprehension as blood flows like it never has before in the ring, pooling in large red puddles underneath them. Kids cry, adults swallow vomit, but they never turn away; clinging to the faintest hope that Williams can somehow overcome this horror. Francis: My lord, this is horrendous! Williams has to submit, there’s no point in destroying his body like this. King: That would be the smart thing to do, but since when has that moron ever did that. Francis: When I nearly tore his arm off several years ago this very night. King: He was smarter than. Feeling his life drain down his face and spill everywhere, Williams starts to go dizzy. His breathing slows down, and he can see the darkness of oblivion growing all around him. Soapdish asks him one more time. He considers it this time, after all is anything worth this much torture. He sees his fans egging him on, and that’s all the insurance he needs. He says nothing. His thoughts jumble into a spiral of incoherent gibberish, than he hears nothing. Francis: Refusing to submit, Williams has just passed out in the hold! King: Told you he’d be too stupid to submit these days, guy has a tragic hero fetish. Francis: This might very well be one of the most heroic performances I’ve ever witnessed. Though his wrestling skills have obviously deteriorated, Danny has proved that his heart is still stronger than ever. Soapdish raises Williams’ hand once. It falls. Twice. It falls. A third time…… Buried deep in a not so pleasant sleep, Williams’ ear catches something in the distance. Someone is calling his name! It grows louder and louder, and the next thing he knows he’s back in the ring, legions of hopefuls screaming his name. He stops his hand from dropping and tightens it into fist; a surge of adrenaline flowing through his protruding veins like liquid fire! The fans combust into climatic cheers, praying that what they are seeing isn’t some strange fever dream or trick of the eyes. Francis: Danny’s trying to rally out of the hold! King: Where is he getting this energy from? Francis: The fans and nothing more. King: That or performance enhancers. Toxxic can’t believe what’s happening, he’s bathed in the man’s blood for crying out loud! How can this be possible? He tries to add more pressure but his body won’t conform; his muscles relaxing as fatigue sits in. He’s been applying maximum pressure the entire time, and it’s took a serious toll on his already worn body. Reaching back with his free hand, Williams grabs Stephens by his wrist, prying it away from his blood gushing head. Panic sits in as Stephens feels Williams gradually overpower him while the fans refuse to stop screaming their lungs bloody. Francis: Williams, looking to escape the inescapable! King: Toxxic needs to go to that eye and fast. Refusing to accept this turn of events, Toxxic stubbornly resists, but it’s no use; whether he believes it or not, Williams is awake and fighting out of the hold like nobody has before. Fighting a losing battle, Toxxic slams a frustrated elbow into the gushing cut above his eye! Rolling out from underneath the ailing Williams, he stomps around the ring with controlled angst. He feels tired, hurt, and terribly frustrated by this puzzling turn of events. “DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!” And worst of all, the fans will not shut up, their chants a mockery of his inability to close the match. Much like his previous match with Williams, Toxxic has tried every thing in the world to beat the man only to come up empty. For the first time in a while, doubt slips into his conscious. Francis: Its crunch time for Toxxic, does he have what it takes to solve the Williams’ enigma or will he once again come up short. King: As long as he doesn’t grab a chair and jump into Danny’s arms he’ll be alright. Wiping sweat from his brow, Toxxic does the only logical thing he can think of. Forcing Williams into a front facelock, he labors to get him on his feet again. This does nothing to shake the crowd as they continue to chant and rave, louder, and louder. Their stomps and voices shaking the arena like thunderclaps. “DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!” Almost dead weight, Williams proves to be even heavier than before, but than again it could also be that Toxxic is just way more tired. Breathing hard, he eventually gets the massive Williams on his feet and cradled. Francis: Dear lord, not another Caffeine Bomb! King: Now this is what I miss about Toxxic, his willingness to do whatever it takes to win; even if it means dropping a guy on his head a few times. Francis: This is not what Stephens needs to get back in the main event; his problem lies in his ego, not his move set. He simply doesn’t need this crap to win. With a bend of the knee, an arch of the back, and a scream of strain, Toxxic somehow drags Danny into the air! He prepares for the follow through when a sudden sharp pain stabs him in the back! Aborting the lift, he comes to the conclusion that it will take too much effort to execute the move like that again. Refusing to give up completely when he’s teetering on the edge of victory, he quickly adlibs another plan. “DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!” Taking a second to gather himself, Toxxic quickly ducks beneath the heavy human sandbag that is Williams. Getting Danny over his shoulders, he trembles and shakes as he struggles to lift him into the air. On a single bent knee, he takes several breaths for the hellacious task ahead of him. With a cry of pain, he power squats his way towards a full vertical base. Sweat pours down his face like a waterfall, his muscles burn as if aflame, a his insides feel like their going to force they way out of his backside, still he puts everything he has into the lift, knowing that it will all be over once he reaches the apex. King: He’s working smarter, not harder. Francis: He’s got Williams up, but does he have enough gas to follow through? His leg muscles strained and stretched to the point they feel like they are working their way from the bone, Toxxic stiffly straightens his back. He prepares to deliver the finishing blow, when he feels his legs fold beneath him. Williams crashes down on top of him, crushing him into the canvas and knocking out his breath. Though he wiggles and kicks into the air like a madman, he can’t get free! Overjoyed, the fans celebrate as Soapdish dives to the canvas for the pin. “ONE!” “TWO!” NO! At the last possible second, Toxxic’s hard work pays off as he squirms out from underneath Williams. The fans are disappointed but their fire isn’t even close to being extinguished, in fact they are more alive than ever; their energy even surpassing that of the uber hot opening bell. Francis: Close call! This match is indeed getting very interesting. Williams has somehow weathered the storm and Toxxic is starting to show some serious signs of fatigue. King: I’d rather be fatigued than beaten to a bloody pulp. Francis: Hard to say. If Toxxic can’t keep the heat on the impossibly tough and always dangerous Williams could still work his way back into this match. Pulling himself up with the ropes, Toxxic drapes himself over the cables, struggling to reclaim the air that was knocked out of his crushed chest. He can’t conceal his disappointment anymore as his face sinks with somber distress; he knows that he is the better man, he’s been the better man, so why can’t he win? It is simply beyond comprehension that a human being can take this punishment. Williams is still down but his eyes reveal a growing awareness. “DAN-E! DAN-E DAN-E!” Though he can’t recall the Caffeine Bomb or anything immediately after it, Williams hears the urgency in his fans and that’s enough to get him stirring. Spotting this out of the corner of his eyes, Toxxic groans with disgust. Running on the pure hatred of his critics, Toxxic mounts his helpless foe, sluggishly throwing rubber armed punches at his cranium. Vaguely aware of the punches, Williams turns to his side, shaking Toxxic off his blood painted chest. Francis: I honestly don’t think Toxxic has anything left, King. King: Its times like this I wish that guy would consider bending the rules just a little bit, a thumb to the eye, a kick to the balls, something. Williams looks like a ghoulish zombie rising from a muddy grave as he struggles to his knees; his face a grotesque mask that bares little resemblance to the man that started the match or to any living being for that matter. “Why won’t you bloody stay down!?” he curses Toxxic with disbelief. Determined to put him back on the canvas, the fatigued punk rocker punches at Williams as he tries to get up, doing little to detour him. Keeping his distance, he steps back, plants his feet, and jabs sloppily at Williams’ head as he inevitably reaches his feet. Measuring Williams with the left, Toxxic turns loose a knuckle busting right hand! Crack! The blow buckles Danny’s knees as fresh blood comes down like rain, decorating the ring like a gory Picasso painting. Catching himself with the ropes, Williams stays on his feet, crimson running down his face like a gentle stream. Much to Toxxic’s horror, he flashes a gruesome smile of awareness as he steadies himself, and steps forward. King: What the hell is that idiot smiling at? Francis: It looks like Williams may have a final rally left in him, the worst possible outcome for Toxxic! Fatigue is setting in, the pace has slowed, and Williams still has some fight left in him. Struggling to keep Danny at bay, Toxxic pumps more jabs at his kisser. Plodding forward no matter what, Williams painfully absorbs the stiff shots, begging his body to hold up just long enough for him to get a little close. Losing ground, Toxxic starts to frantically back paddle as he’s far too lethargic to swiftly evade Williams like he did earlier. Desperate and running out of room, he plants his feet and makes a final stand. Measuring Williams, he aggressively snaps vicious jab after vicious jab into his face! The shots pop with gruesome accuracy but Williams won’t stop coming, drawing back his arm as he inches closer! Loading up his Lariat arm, Williams walks through a final jab and lunges in for the kill! Francis: AXE BOMBER! CRACK! A thunderous straight right stuns Williams in mid swing! Determined to finish what he started, Toxxic winds up for the Rolling Lariat! But Williams goes down before he can follow through! Splattered with blood, Toxxic shakes out his hand, and sighs with relief. “Finally!” he thinks to himself, amazed at the sheer relentlessness of Danny’s attack; maybe he wasn’t such a wash up after all. King: The fighting spirit has left the building! Francis: Williams came at Toxxic with everything he had but it just wasn’t enough tonight. Grabbing Danny by his red streaked hair, Toxxic lazily drags him up for the knock out blow he didn’t get to land. Suddenly, Williams comes to life with a desperation elbow! But it’s blocked! Wham! A hard Rolling Lariat counters! Possibly the hardest that Toxxic has ever thrown in his life! Williams turns and stumbles…..stumbles….only to suddenly spring back! WHAM! Francis: AXE BOMBAAAAH!!!! Toxxic goes into the air like an acrobat; head over heels, heels over head, upside down, right side up, tumbling into a lifeless heap of devastation on the canvas! Off balance and plowing forward from the wind tearing swing, Williams goes through the ropes and crashes into the floor below. The fans leap for joy, urging him to get up and capitalize on this glorious situation. Danny would love to give them what they want, but as of now he just like to lay down. He’s absorbed a beating that would surely kill a lesser conditioned athlete and he needs some time to recover. Francis: And just like that, the tables have been turned! King: No pun intended but Danny is wrestling like he has a legit “deathwish.” How the hell are you suppose to beat a guy that won’t stop coming forward? Francis: That’s the idea, King. Winning isn’t always about wrestling flawlessly, sometimes it’s about how far your willing to go, how much your willing to sacrifice. Years ago, Williams taught me a lesson in that. I won the match, but I had to push myself to extremes I never thought I was capable of; to beat Danny you must beat him at his game, and I don’t think Toxxic has ever been willing to do that. Overzealous, the fans try to cheer Danny on as Toxxic lays prone and motionless on his back, dark blood pouring from the bridge of his nose in a Scarlet V. Finding himself on the floor, Williams claws his way up the ring apron, beating a count he was never aware of. His vision is blurry and his head won’t stop ringing, but other than that he’s fine, well aside from maybe the blood loss related dizziness and nausea. Truth be told, he’s a complete mess but that’s never stopped him before. He did what he needed to do, now it’s time to collect, and give the fans the win they deserve. Rolling back into the ring, he epically crawls towards the fallen Toxxic. Francis: We’ve seen Williams dig deep and survive some serious punishment tonight, is Toxxic willing to do the same? The suspense is unbearable for the crowd, who haven’t found their seats since the Axe Bomber landed. Inch by blood smeared inch, Williams pulls himself over his fallen foe’s body, blanketing it for the pin. All eyes in the arena are on the nerdy four eyed official as he starts the count. “ONE!” “TWO!” …….. “THRE-Ooooooooh!” sighs the over anxious fans as Toxxic apparently slipped a boot beneath the bottom rope. King: Who needs toughness when you got great ring sense? Francis: And the luck of being knocked out near the ropes. King: I’m sure he planned it that way. Rolling off the bloodied heel, Williams rests and plots. Despite the brief disappointment, the crowd gets right back into it. “DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!” Shaking himself back awake, Williams wearily climbs to his feet. He stumbles but finds the ground in time, saving himself the embarrassment of flopping on his bottom. For the fans this is almost surreal, having never guessed that after all that has passed, they’d be seeing Williams standing tall over a bloody Toxxic. Ripping off his arm pad, Danny pumps his blood stained fist high into the air, signaling the end is near. Francis: Williams, looking to close the match with another Axe Bomber! King: If there’s any trick Toxxic has been saving for a special occasion this would be the time to use it. Snatching Toxxic by a handful of blood dripping hair, Williams drags him to his feet as if he was a child. Steadying his target, Williams draws back his massive arm…..when a sloppy Superkick rockets towards his head! But it’s caught! Struggling to stay balanced, Toxxic swings up his free leg for the Enzugiri! But Danny doesn’t need two eyes to see the weary kick coming! Getting up his arm, he blocks the ill conceived ambush, letting the already rubber legged Toxxic awkwardly splatter on the canvas! Francis: Toxxic, trying to mount a comeback but it isn’t happening. King: That damn Axe Bomber must have really messed him up; you could probably throw a better kick, Mak. Francis: In my prime? King: No, right now. Extending his broad arms, Williams stalks his ailing prey from behind, waiting for him to make the foolish mistake of sitting up. Diving in like a jackal smelling blood, Williams clamps his powerful arms around Toxxic’s busted face! The Sensation screams as a crimson highway pours to the canvas from his forehead and his nose, his face caving in quicker than an ill cooked cake. Francis: Danny Williams’ Facelock is one of the most painful moves in the sport, with an already busted face, I can only imagine how much it hurts. King: Toxxic’s got too pride to give up. Yeah, he’s as dumb as Danny in that regard. Still standing, the crowd leaps up and down in jubilation as they wait for the magic words. Toxxic’s eyes burn and water as if he has sand in them, a sure sign of a broken nose. He tries to exhale through his nostrils but blood pours out in alarming gushes, some running down the back of his throat, and gagging him considerably. Gasping for breath from his open mouth, Toxxic refuses to submit as Soapdish pops the question. He instead reaches for the ropes, stretching his arm as far out as he possibly can, but he’s not even close! Desperate to relieve the tortuous pressure that’s disfiguring his face, he frantically reaches back with his free arm, digging his fingers into the gash above Danny’s closed, puffy eye without thinking twice. King: Hey, he stole a page from your book, Mak. Francis: Not technically cheating but a sure sign that desperation is sitting in for Toxxic. King: Nah, most people are calm and rationale when their getting their faces crushed. Thick, dark blood runs down Toxxic’s arm and spews into his own face, but Williams refuses to let go. Both men bleed buckets on each other in a scene that’s straight out of a gory horror film. Growling like an angry wild animal, Williams increases the pressure of the hold, squeezing Toxxic’s head until it feels like it’s going to burst in his arms like fruit. Getting a migraine that could kill an elephant, the Sensation’s arms spasm out of control, forcing him to release Danny’s ravage eye! Despite bleeding out, Williams calls upon all of his remaining power for a one final surge of strength. It’s all or nothing now. Ignoring the pain, Danny flexes his muscles until they are tighter than a bass drum of human skin, veins swelling out his neck and arms like giant snakes, a geyser of blood sprinkling out of the cut above his eye. Purple faced, Toxxic’s blood spewing head violently shakes like he’s about to pull a “Scanners”, his head feeling as though it’s being flattened and misshapen, his skull crumbling around his brain like an egg shell. The pain is beyond words, worse than anything he’s ever experienced, a headache that all the Advil in the world won’t be able to help. If he’s not mistaken, his eyes feel like they are about to pop out of his skull as well. Francis: Earlier, we saw an injured Williams endure Toxxic’s toughest submission and rally. Can the Sensation do the same and out will Williams? Danny had the fans to get him through it, but what does Toxxic have? King: An obsession with winning the title, proving all these idiots wrong…..and the hope of knowing that I will always root for him as long as he doesn’t sell out again. Toxxic’s pride holds his tongue, but when all is said and done that’s all he has left, and when you feel like you are teetering between life and death that doesn’t seem all that important. He doesn’t have any fans to cheer him on in such a bleak situation, no one to help him through, he’s on his own in an island of growing darkness. Also in pain, Danny fends off fatigue, struggling to keep the heat on the fading Toxxic. He listens to the music of the molten hot crowd, the only thing keeping him going. Toxxic doesn’t have such luxury, and pride can go to hell as he taps his blood stained hand against the canvas. DING! DING! DING! Completely burned out, Williams collapses in a heap while Toxxic sinks in a fresh pool of his own gore. The ring is a mess of red foot prints, hand prints, and smudges; it doesn’t like a brawl just happened, it looked like a heinous execution occurred. The crowd is simply ecstatic, somehow mustering enough energy to show their appreciation of Danny’s bloody sacrifice. Unable to stand, Soapdish raises his hand from where he’s at. Williams leaves it up on his own for a little to acknowledge the crowd. Francis: What a performance from Danny Williams! King: Yeah, just the let other guy beat you until they burn out. Sheer genius! I can’t imagine why I never thought of that before….maybe because it’s retarded. Francis: It was the only way, King. His heart was the only edge he had over Toxxic, that and this incredible crowd. King: We’ll see how long that lasts; this crowd is like the tavern whore she’ll leave with whoever’s buying or something like that. Francis: Jesus, King. Soapdish calls for the medics since it’s obvious that neither man is getting up on his own. Since been the bell, both men have done nothing but agonize in pools of their own blood. Williams is in the better shape as he can least talk where as Toxxic lays quietly on his stomach, his agonizing face buried in his hands. Perhaps, he’s hiding his disappointment in himself or maybe he’s simply in too much pain to even be bothered with such trivial matters. Armies of paramedics storm into the ring, both men are quickly administered oxygen, and strapped into stretchers. The fans applaud the doctors as they carry Danny and Toxxic down the aisle, both looking to be seriously injured and drained. Francis: They’re probably going to need blood transfusions. Not surprising considering that this has been one of the more grueling, goriest battles I’ve ever seen. So where do these warriors go from here? Surely both men made a case for the Main Event. King: We both know Toxxic belongs in the Main Event and he’ll win a rematch for damn sure, but let’s not forget that Danny looked like total chump for most of the match. Yeah, he won tonight but I doubt he can make any type of long term impact wrestling this pathetically. Francis: Hopefully, this match knocked the rust off Williams. If he stays healthy, he may make a decent run of it. King: Bah, will agree to disagree. It’s been swell but goodnight everybody. Francis: But we have at least two more matches left, including the Drake/Landon Main Event. King: I know, I was just seeing if you’d bite or not. Francis: Now I wish the night was over.

Thanks for the comments. I don't mean to be anal, I just find it interesting to hear what the marker had to say. "I paid very close attention to the promos you guys wrote out during 'regular season', so to speak, and I didn't get any sort of impression that Danny was coming into this as the weak player. In fact, I got quite the opposite: That Danny was in ring shape. Here's my line of thinking." Your right, I just wanted to throw a swerve and more than tease the possiblity of Toxxic actually being correct; that after being away for so long, Williams wasn't ready for SWF Main Event competition. I didn't mean to imply Williams wasn't in shape, but that his reflexes were slower and he wasn't ready for someone as sharp as Toxxic. In retrospect, I should have made that more clear and I can understand the confusion.