School for Jobbers

Garrett_Grahame: The promoter had asked me "You feel like taking on a big fella?" My answer is usually "Not especially," but I did like the payday, so here I am, about to face off against an unknown quantity I've only been told is "Big Bear". I shove the entrance aisle curtains aside and survey the scene. The lights are dim except those illuminating the ring, and the bar is rowdy–I can barely hear my entrance music over the general din of conversation and clanking of bottles. I stride down the makeshift entrance aisle and slap hands with a few enthusiastic (and possibly drunk) fans, but it's clear that this group is probably here for a fight than a brilliant technical display. "Annnnnnd making his way to the ring first, frommmmm Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada, weighing in for this contest at two hundred and forty one pounds...Garrett...Grahame!" I hop up the ring steps and wipe my boots on the slightly frayed ring apron, which seems like it has seen better days. I'm clad professionally, as always: maroon trunks, maroon pads, black boots, black jacket. Nothing fancy. Here for a grappling contest or here for a brawl, plain and simple. I duck through the ropes and jog a quick circuit around the ring to loosen up.

Garrett_Grahame: I shuck off my ring jacket and do a few dips and squats in the corner, making a few last efforts to get limber. As the referee pats down my kneepads and boots, checking to make sure I'm not about to introduce a foreign object into this contest, I fix my eyes on the entrance ramp. Alright, let's see what this Big Bear is all about.

IamBigBear: The lights in the arena go out. The audience, once rowdy, goes quiet. The air gets colder somehow, a chill travels up your spine. Suddenly, drums. War drums. Echoing throughout the chamber heralding something ferocious, powerful. A monster. A solo light shines down toward the entrance. Standing in the doorway, filling up the entire frame is the mountain himself. The 400 lb Big Bear is clad only in a black speedo and black boots. The speedo, a 5x, stretched to its absolute limit to fit all of his mass in. Slowly, methodically, I waddle toward the ring. Sweat glistening on my pillowy chest and rotund belly. Fat and muscle jiggling with each step. Making it to the ring, I slowly climb the apron and split the top and middle ropes. Squeezing my massive sumo sized body inside the ring, I take my post in the opposite corner. My big back resting against the turnbuckle. Both heavy, python sized arms resting over the top ropes to either size. My extra thick body on full display as I breathe heavily, glaring at you. I crack my big knuckles and broad neck and wait for the bell.

Garrett_Grahame: Well, shit. I guess he lives up to the name. A few of my game plans instantly go out the window upon seeing the mountain of a man glaring me down. With an inch or two of height on me and north of a hundred and fifty pounds, there's no doubt that I'm not going to be up against a stick figure of a cruiserweight that I can bully around. I've fought bigger guys than me, and I've sure fought taller guys than me, but I'm not sure I've tangled with anyone of Bear's stature before.

Garrett_Grahame: I wipe my hands on maroon trunks, my palms sweaty with a little bit of nervousness, perhaps. I set my jaw and nod to the referee. To hell with it, here we go.

Garrett_Grahame: CLANG CLANG CLANG. There's a few whoops from the crowd, no doubt from a few rowdy folks who want to see how this car crash is going to go down. I circle Big Bear, keeping an eye on his stern, impassive expression. A test of strength seems relatively hopeless–even if he's not especially more powerful, there's just no way I'm going to overcome that difference in mass. Instead, I try to shoot in low, attempting to grapple one of his tree trunk legs for a single leg takedown.

IamBigBear: The bell finishes sounding and I see you circling me like a shark. "You ready for the beating of a lifetime, bub." I growl as I lung both arms out toward you trying to grapple your neck, but you duck low and grab hold of one of my tree trunk thighs. I make a gesture to the crowd, both arms raised like 'is this all you can muster...some warrior you've sent.' Before I look down at you. Your head is pressed into my thick belly as you hold on, but you manage to spin at just the right moment and my balance is shaken. I hop on of foot to try and recover as one of my meaty hands grabs the scruff behind your head.

Garrett_Grahame: I feel a lot more like a toddler than I expected as I try to heave the big man off balance. I've just about got him at the tipping point, but Bear wrangles a hold of my neck and temporarily foils the takedown. I try to fight him off by throwing some stiff shots into the liver area of his meaty flank. It's going to be a bad, short night for me if I'm within close reach of him for long.

IamBigBear: The first few liver shots don't feel like much, my fat back absorbs most of the damage. The fifth time you land the hit, a sharp pain sears through my spine and I take a step forward from the pain, growling "ARGG" and clenching my chubby face. The burly clenched hand on the back of your neck shoves you away by pushing the side of your head. Afterward, I rub my back with my now free hand as you slow your momentum against the ropes. "Let's see what you can do, lad." I growl, taunting you and gesturing for you to bring it while I brace myself lower.

Garrett_Grahame: Lad? I'm older than you. I ignore the shove and glower back at him. Taking my time, I peel myself off the ropes, looking for an opening. I feign like I'm going to go back to the well for a takedown again, but instead I change levels, exploiting the Bear's hunkered stance by grabbing his melon head with a tight headlock. I shove myself against his hefty frame, bracing and trying to really wrench it in.

IamBigBear: You're quicker than your size lets on. Before I realize it, you lunge forward and secure a tight headlock around me. One of my hands rests on my knees as I struggle to breathe. I was already heaving pretty heavily just getting to the ring, but now, my airway is being closed powerfully. You flex and the hold grows unbearably tighter. My chunky face and fluffy beard pressed into your chest and belly. My free arm flails behind you for a few moments, pressing onto your back, trying to find perch. I let myself be distracted, and now...air is a commodity I can't afford.

Garrett_Grahame: Bear wheezes pries at my back. My own face starts to redden as I keep my hands clasped and try to squeeze with all I've got. Maybe he's a paper tiger. I use my bodyweight to try to pull him further forward and off-balance, dropping to one knee in an attempt to anchor the intimidating bear.

IamBigBear: I'm losing air fast. Both of our sweaty bodies pressed together. I close my eyes for a moment and just as I do, you step forward. Your leg was in front of mine and I fall forward to one knee. The mat shakes below us. Drool is beginning to drip down my mouth and onto the mat below. I have to move. With tremendous force, I throw my arm that is now resting on the mat up and into your belly three times, trying to knock the air out of you. The crowd is roaring. They weren't expecting the Big Bear to be on one knee so quickly, if at all. A fourth sledgehammer fist pummels your chest, this one slower than the last.

Garrett_Grahame: WHOOF. The force of the first blow almost propels me back, and it feels like I've been hit in the gut by a Christmas ham. My grip slackens, but I don't let go until the second, then third blows hit home. The fourth hammer blow seems to hit me square in the diaphragm and I sink down to all fours, losing my grip entirely, and struggling to breathe like my opponent.

IamBigBear: I feel your powerful bicep let loose from around my thick neck. As you fall forward to all fours, I can finally hear the crowd again. The arena is in an uproar. So many cheering for you, the apparent underdog of the match. Well, it's time to disappoint them all. "These folks are going to watch their hero suffer and tap out." I growl, massaging my neck as I get back up and stand powerfully above you atop my tree trunk thighs. I straddle your back. My big calves on either side of your big back. "Better get comfortable down their bub." I growl and jump, letting my weight slam down onto your lower back as it sends you crashing flat onto the mat. I watch spit fly out of your mouth onto the mat to the side. Lifting you by the back of the hair, I get you to all fours again and repeat the same, devastating process. A jump, followed by 400 lbs crushing your lumbar region until you are flat as a pancake.

Garrett_Grahame: My ursine opponent stirs, shaking off the effects of the oxygen deprivation. WHAM! I cough and sputter as the force of 400lbs dropping on my back flattens me to the canvas. I groan in pain and don't have the wherewithal to fight back as Big Bear drags me up and repeats the process. My face is clenched into a pained grimace as my back seizes and burns.

IamBigBear: After the second squashing, I take my sausage sized thumb and drape it across my neck, "It's over for this chump! Behold, your champ." I squat down and pull your arm over my hefty knees, draping them back. Left arm secure, now right arm secure. My burly hands lock under your chin as I wrench your head back. My full 400 lb body weight locking in a destructive camel clutch. Your chest and belly on display for all in the front row to see as you struggle. You weren't aware that your Big Bear of an opponent was also a submission style wrestler. With my full body weight on your back, I grin. "Feel free to tap out, if you're a wimp." I taunt you.

Garrett_Grahame: I've been in a camel clutch before, but not THIS camel clutch. Bear's weight sits slow on my spine, boat anchoring me to the mat, and he uses the leverage to contort me backwards in agonizing fashion. I flail like a dying fish, struggling against every instinct to instantly tap out. We just barely started this fight, but this is excruciating. I try to shimmy forward, but it's of absolutely no use. I'm not going anywhere until I give in or find another way to get out. Doing my best to buck against his grip and shove left and right, I manage to spring my right arm loose. I pry at his tight grip and then reach for the bottom rope, which feels tantalizingly close.

IamBigBear: I hear your moans. I know you're in terrible pain, but still, I proceed. Wrenching back further, you loud out a shrill gasp. "Aw....does that hurt. Can't take it anymore bub? Pathetic." Your flailing works and you regain control of your right arm after a moment. I let go of my hold of both arms around your chin. Holding your face with just one arm, I reach forward. Instead of grabbing your arm, I whisper in your ear, "There's only more pain if you keep fighting." Then I bring a sledgehammer fist down and slam it into your chest twice. On the second swing, I throw a bit too much of my weight forward and accidentally drop the hold completely.

Garrett_Grahame: I can't quite make it to the ropes, but I get a painful reprieve from more hammer blows from Big Bear. WHAM. WHAM. He overbalances and I crawl away on the canvas, clutching a chest that's quickly turning beet red. I try to get to my feet, but a jolt of pain from my back drops me down to one knee. Jesus Christ. I grit my teeth and try to get back to my feet with the aid of the ropes.

IamBigBear: I slowly stand, holding onto the middle rope then making the top rope very wobbly as it tries to support my weight. Im a sweaty bear and the stadium lights shimmer across my plump sumo body. I'm winded. It takes a lot to move this much weight, especially wrestling. I try to overpower my opponents quickly with my mass, but this big fella didn't tap when I was squashing him. He's tougher than he looks. If I don't win soon....I'm going to run out of steam. Gasp. gasp. Sweat is dripping into my eyes. I wipe them somewhat clear as I look toward you. You've made it to the corner and are standing facing me against the turnbuckle. "I'll end this now." I growl and charge as you. The ring is experiencing an earthquake. I am slow, but gaining momentum. I can see you supporting your weight too, you're watching me, waiting for the right moment for a counter attack. I dive forward, hoping to impale you into the corner with my massive size, hoping I will make contact with that bright red chest of yours that is making such as good target. But I'm sluggish, and breathing heavily....my attack is slower than I expected....

Garrett_Grahame: I struggle back to my feet with the aid of the ropes. Winded and pained, I hang from the ropes and use the turnbuckles for support. But the punishment that the superheavyweight has dished out has also run down his gas tank. My eyes bulge as I see the mountainous main charging at me for a corner body avalanche that might well either end the match or break the ring. At the last second, I manage to lurch into action. I step forward and aim a kick squarely at the charging bruiser's unprotected kneecap.

IamBigBear: Unable to dodge, your kick connects with my big knees and I feel a pop. It knocks me completely over as my giant body collapses down in front of you. My momentum finally stops as I hold my knee and moan "Fuc....." I growl and grit my teeth, unsure if I can walk. It feels bad...real bad. My big body tumbled over itself and Im sucking in air trying to get a full breath. Laying on my side, I feel your shadow above me as you grin and I know Im in for a world of hurt.

Garrett_Grahame: "Professionals wear kneepads," I snap at the downed beast, although my bravado covers up relief at barely avoiding certain doom. I snap a hasty, spiteful kick to Big Bear's rounded middle to tip him over onto his back, and then grab his wounded leg with both arms, draping it across the bottom rope. I clasp the top rope with both hands and bounce up and down on the bottom rope before hopping off, intending to land on the seat on my trunks, with all my bodyweight on his extended knee and leg.

IamBigBear: I feel my wounded leg lift and drape over the rope. Every moment is agonizing. I wave my meaty hands in your direction, hoping you will have mercy. You taunt me with a line about kneepads before you leap and use my wounded tree trunk thigh as a trampoline. Your full body weight tearing the ligaments. I feel another pop and scream louder with each bounce. Clenching my hear with a pained look across my chubby face. Finally you jump and land with your butt on my knee and I writhe in pain on my big back. Slamming the mat once with a big fist. The crowd cheering you, their hero on. My leg feels broken, and the match is so early. Your full weight sits on me as you pull my calf back under the rope to further the damage. "ARGGGGGGGGGGG" I scream completely at your mercy.

Garrett_Grahame: I drape my body over Big Bear's heavy leg and turn my back to him, darkly pleased at hearing a scream of pain from the brute that was tormenting me only moments before. I hook my own leg under his wounded knee to lock it in place, and then wrench and yank at his foot with my hands, trying to work over the ankle and do what I can to turn a liability into an injury. I don't expect a tapout and he's not far from the ropes, but I'm keen to at least try to compound the damage and keep him grounded while I can.

IamBigBear: "wait...what are ...you..doing..ARRGGG." I yell out as you entwine your legs around mine. Locking in the submission hold. My knee already terribly damaged, you now focus on my ankle. "CUT THE BIG MAN DOWN!" One audience member cheers loudly. My head is thumping the mat on the backside as I hold my arms over my face. Your legs are powerful and without the ability to gain a proper angle, I am stuck for now. After about a minute, I pause my thrashing enough to see the ropes above me. They are fairly close. If I reach.....I can probably grab them. I put a big hand on your back and you twist my knee and ankle powerfully. I slam the mat with a fist and then direct my efforts to reaching above me toward the rope. Inching closer...and closer. Finally, my finger tips wrap around the bottom one. I shake the rope so that the ref knows and he taps your shoulder to force you to release the hold.

Garrett_Grahame: I hear the big man thrashing and squirming as the bar crowd grows a little more bloodthirsty. I grit my teeth and pry at the musculature concealed under Bear's black boot until the referee slaps at my shoulder, demanding that I release my opponent from this proverbial beartrap. "One! Two!" he throws fingers in my face, and I'm torn between desperately wanting to inflict damage on this big bastard and my code of honour. "Three!" I reluctantly let go and hold my hands up to placate the official. I climb to my feet, still feeling aches throughout the entirety of my back, and adjust the waistband of my trunks around my middle.

Garrett_Grahame: I loom over Big Bear and try to reach down to drag him to his feet, but I simply can't. I yank at him by his armpit and meaty neck, but my back groans in protest, and it's clear I can at best guide him up if he wants to get up.

IamBigBear: The ref forces the release of the torturous hold. My leg feels shattered. Breathing heavily, I'm drooling onto my mountainous chest. Im dazed from pain as I feel you claw around my plump upper body. You eventually grab hold of my beard and I have no choice but to obey as I slowly get to one knee, my injured knee aches. The middle rope cant support my 400 lbs and shakes as I hobble up to all fours. You hold my beard and I am covered in sweat and swaying. You're essentially holding me up. I wince as my knee tries to support my big body and know it can't take much more damage. Sweat is dripping into my eyes and I throw a wild haymaker trying to get you to release my beard.

Garrett_Grahame: As the ring official protests, I painfully yank the brute around by his cloud of a beard. Lining him up, I cock a fist, preparing to pop him clean in the jaw. Before I do, a big bear paw rises up and clocks me. I stagger back a step and hunch over, shaking my head to try to clear it.

IamBigBear: I take a few steps toward you as you are in the corner now, but my knee pops out again and I nearly double over. "You'll pay for this bub." I growl and look up at you. Charging you I throw all of my weight ontop of you in a massive avalanche splash that moves the ring a solid inche. Your face is buried in my chest. I put a meaty hand around your neck and push it back over the top turnbuckle. Your broad chest is exposed and bright red. I quiet the audience with a shhhh. The room goes silent again. Licking my big hand, I raise it high and slap your chest so hard that it sends a shockwave through your entire body. I keep chopping and slapping your chest 4 more times, 5, 6, the audience counts...8, 9...10!

Garrett_Grahame: I get my bearings and look up, only to see the big man charging with more speed than I thought possible. OOF! The ring rattles as I'm pancaked into the corner and enfolded by Big Bear's bulk as he gets a second wind. I wheeze and spit, out of it. I'm completely winded by the crushing force of the impact, and only dimly aware of my tormentor peeling me back over the top rope, exposing my chest. WHAP. The chop sounds like a gunshot, and awakens me from my stupor. WHAP. WHAP. My eyes bulge as the hulking brute wallops me over and over in the chest, completely tenderizing it. I'm breathless and helpless until the referee finally, mercifully intercedes. Feeling unable to breathe–my chest feels like it has caved in–my legs buckle and I slowly sink down into the corner as I struggle to clasp the ropes for support. I look down and see my chest red and bruised, marred by nasty welts.

IamBigBear: The ref gets in my face about letting you fight back. "Ref! You see what he did to me??!?" I gesture to my mangled leg and argue, but he doesn't care. I scoff him off and look down. Your head is resting on the bottom turnbuckle pad. You look dazed. Legs outspread, chest the color of a well cooked lobster. I grin. Turn around slowly and pull my 5 xl speedo up tight so that it is nearly in my crack. The audience has seen this only once before. Slowly, I hobble backward, spanking my fat ass, and sit directly onto your face.

Garrett_Grahame: Oh fuck. Bear piles on the humiliation, shoving me into the corner with a Rikishi-style stinkface in what may be a low point of my career. I sputter, spit, and struggle as even some of the the audience members cheering for me can't help but laugh. Finally, blessedly, the referee intercedes. Struggling for air, I roll under the bottom rope and drunkenly stagger over to one of the bar tables nearby. I grab a glass of water and then another–hey, they're free–and splash and douse my face, trying to get clean of whatever the fuck that was. I stumble back towards the ring.

IamBigBear: The audience is hooting and hollering. I've made my point. Mess with the big bear and you suffer. I start to climb out of the top ropes. My bad leg over first. I don't care where we fight, but I'm not going to let you recover. Lifting my leg proves to be a nightmare as, once it is on the other side of the ropes and hits the apron, I can't support my weight again. The adrenalin is gone. I scream out in pain, but now find myself halfway in and halfway out of the ring. That's when I look up and see you at the base of the ring apron, water dripping from your freshly cleaned face, looking up at me, menacingly...

Garrett_Grahame: I get a moment of respite as the big man plants a foot wrong. He yowls, poised midway through the ropes. Huffing and puffing, I clamber onto the apron and unceremoniously and forcefully kick the rope between Big Bear's legs, crotching him with one of the barely-padded steel cables that comprise the ring. The crowd oohs as the referee explodes at me, but I hold my hands up and suppress a smirk. With his taunts, I feel like my opponent kind of had that one coming.

Garrett_Grahame: I slip into the ring, feeling stings as water and sweat drips onto my brutalized chest, and seize hold of Big Bear's head while he is still incapacitated and awkwardly poised between the ropes. I yank and prepare to throw myself to the mat with all the force I can muster, attempting a DDT.

IamBigBear: The steel cable slams into my manhood hard as I bounce a few times holding my groin. "OOOOOOF." I exhale as you slide in the ring, tuck my head under your sweaty armpit and DDT my big head directly into the mat. My sumo sized body nearly goes vertical! The audience is stunned as to what they just witnessed. No one has ever manhandled the 400 lb behemoth like that before and the ref wasn't even sure the ring could handle that kind of impact. Still barely conscious, our combined weight crushing my dome. I claw helplessly toward the center of the ring, not moving at all, but the ref can tell, I didn't die, though the force of the impact would suggest otherwise. Laying face down, my rotund body sprawled out, completely dazed.

Garrett_Grahame: WHAM. With his unsteady footing, my bodyweight offers enough leverage to spike Big Bear into the canvas with authority. I survey the damage to him while I clutch my chest. Is this rib bruised?

Garrett_Grahame: I've got a call to make - try to roll him over for the pin, or keep up the attack. I decide to press the attack, wary of the time it might take to get Big Bear into a pinning predicament, and how much power he'll be able to muster for a kickout. I climb to the second rope and leap off with a Steve Austin-style front elbow drop, aiming the point of my elbow between his thick shoulder blades.

IamBigBear: Completely unaware of the world around me, blood is rushing to my head. I can’t hear the audience again. My own pulse is raging in my ears, drowning them out. My heavy arms are out in front of me reaching. I look up to see the ref. He was checking on me, but now he’s backed up. Why is he backing away. He’s looking up at something behind me…his eyes trace at something moving quickly in an arch and then…. BOOOM! A sledgehammer lands between my thick shoulder blades, directly on my spine. Another cracking sound, or perhaps it was a pop. My face slams hard into the mat and I feel all of my limbs bounce up from the impact as my opponent just landed on me. I’ve never been sawed in half before, but I imagine that this is what it feels like. A heavy man just landed on my broad, fat back and I took all of the impact. I let out a gasp as all of the air in my lungs rushes out at once, crushed at the tremendous force applied. I can’t move…Im gasping for air that refuses to fill my lungs. Breathe. Just one small breath. This guy might just be the hero they believe he is. I groan in insurmountable pain as you lay against me, keeping me face down in my own drool. Catching your second wind, the crowd erupts in cheers as you begin to dominate the Big Bear.

Garrett_Grahame: I take the landing hard on my knees, but the focus of the impact is the point of the elbow. My opponent clearly doesn't see it coming and, to my satisfaction, visibly recoils from the collision. I lean back on my haunches and nod to the crowd. Yeah, that's right. Weren't sure if I could take the big guy down, huh?

Garrett_Grahame: Still breathing hard–it seems like we've been beating the piss out of each other enough that neither of us has taken a good clean breath–I stand over my downed opponent. I'm known as an expert practitioner of the single-legged Boston Crab that I call the St. Lawrence Stretch, but it's difficult against a challenging opponent, and may be all the more difficult here. But, what better way to work over that leg? I sit down on Big Bear's back, trying to affix him to the mat, and reach forward. I attempt to collect the wounded leg and pull it back, trying to bend him enough and fight off his resistance in order to secure his foot under my armpit and lock it in.

IamBigBear: My eyes blink as your weight shifts off my plump love handles. I feel you take your throne, seated on my lower back, but am unaware of the misery about to ensue. You grab hold of my badly injured leg, bend it backward and lock it under your armpit. The submission hold is sealed. Nothing could have prepared my sumo sized body for the searing, tearing pain if bone on bone breaking. You arch backward powerfully, in full control of the 400 lb behemoth below you. I push up a bit from the mat instinctively, or try to, but you are perfectly nested into my back with your weight balanced so that my face is pressed into the mat again. I am arched backward in a half crab that, to all onlookers, appears to be dealt by the hand of God himself. I claw at the mat and pound a closed fist twice. I know now that my leg is broken. There’s no denying this hell. The question races through my feverish mind, “How much more can I take?” The ref lays down in front of me, asking if I tap. My burly hand shakes like no tomorrow. Hovering an inch above the mat. I ball my fist. Sweat dripping down my face. I refuse…..I can’t surrender that easily. As if you hear me internal struggle, you wrench my knee back further and twist a bit. I scream and bite my hand. You can hear how badly this hurts me, and I can see your grin from here. You’ve got the Big Bear right where you want him. Trapped, in the most devastating signature submission move this side of the Atlantic Ocean. The reason you became King of the ring. How much more can the Big Bear endure…

Garrett_Grahame: "Come on, big boy!" I shout, as the crowd looks on. "Tap!" A lot of the usual bar din has died down as the patrons have become captivated by the heavyweight slobberknocker of a match in the ring. I grin cruelly to conceal a grimace: bracing in a leaning posture like this is doing nothing good to the sore back that Big Bear worked over with that camel clutch earlier, and the sting of sweat on my savaged chest is a painful distraction. I tremble from the strain, blinking away sweat from my eyes, and struggle to hold position and maintain body control, perilously close to losing a sweat-slicked grip on the wounded leg.

IamBigBear: I hear you goad me, commanding me to tap. Every fiber in my being wants to agree. I've never felt a half crab this powerful. The ropes are a few feet away. I reach out for them, but cannot grasp them from my current place in the ring. Huffing and puffing, I take as deep a breath in as I can muster and inch my body forward on the mat. Moving 400 lbs is a lot when its just your weight, but moving your weight plus another grown man while they are ontop of me is another. Another inch. Using my powerful arms, I'm able to claw about a foot forward. You're not stopping me like before, I can tell you are winded as well, but just as I start to doubt your power, you yank my thick leg back and twist and I am reminded again of the position I'm in. Pain surges through my massive body and I instinctively try to escape it. Taking another huge breath, I swing my free leg down and out, knocking your leg out from under you. I know it worked as my injured leg is dropped hard to the canvas and you fall forward, having lost your balance. I scream as my injured knee hits the mat, but crawl the remaining two feet to the corner turnbuckle. Slowly, climbing the padding with my now very sweaty hands, I get back to a hobbled standing position. My arm supports my weight on the top rope as I turn to survey the ring. You are still on all fours, breathing deeply and holding your back at mid ring. It's now or never. I hobble out toward you and straddle you again. My heavy body can't take the force of impact from slamming your back again, so I try a new approach. Reaching down, I wrap my python sized arm around your neck and pull your head back. I put you in a strong rear naked choke and lay back onto the mat. Your back resting on my superchub bear body. Your belly and chest facing the ceiling. I wrap my less injured leg around your big mid section and arch your back while choking you. "You thought you had me with that submission hold bub. You'll have to do better than that." I whisper in your ear.

Garrett_Grahame: I grit my teeth so hard that I begin to worry about chipping a tooth, bearing down while the beast huffs and puffs. I adjust my grip and try to redouble my efforts, but Big Bear manages to cock his free leg and swipe it between mine, tipping me over. I sink to all fours, spent from bracing my core for that long, for crouching that long, for trying to hold the big brute's leg for that long while he screamed and flailed with everything that he had. I take a few long moments for a breather as I hear dull thuds and scrapes on the mat and the referee checking if Bear is able to continue. But I make what may be a fatal mistake, and I'm too overconfident about how incapacitated the bull of a man is. He lurches into action and suddenly enfolds me like a lead blanket. I'm too surprised to mount an effective defence as I feel a thick arm wrap around my throat, and then suddenly I'm turning, arched over Bear's belly and staring up at the ring lights. Bear pincers a heavy leg across my belly and hisses in my ear with vitriol. Oh, he's mad now.

Garrett_Grahame: I flail my free arms and try to twist and turn, but I'm completely anchored, with his thick arm wrapped across my throat and his good leg across my midsection like the safety bar on an amusement park ride. Even the bar patrons who aren't wrestling fans have seen enough MMA to know this is, to say the least, bad. I throw my weight repeatedly to one side, trying to get ever closer to the side of the ring that's marginally closer, but god damn, we're pretty much in the middle. Eventually, I manage to tip us over to that side, but it's of little use. It's still so far. I start to feel a little woozy. It's challenging to move with urgency without expending all my diminishing oxygen supplies in a panic. I keep instinctively flailing, reaching this way and that and throwing mostly ineffectual back elbows. I grab Bear's leg and dig both my hands into it, trying to forcefully move it, but to little avail. Starting to see spots, I reach up over my head, finding at first bushy beard, then a nose. More spots. Aha! Fading, I try to claw and jab at his eyes, anything for a distraction or to loosen the pressure.

IamBigBear: I can feel you gasping for air as I flex my python sized arm around your throat. Victory is at hand. Suddenly, you hand reaches up and rakes my eyes painfully. "ARRRGGG" I release the hold. You roll off of my massive bear body to the left as I roll onto my blubbery side on the right, holding my eyes. "I can't see...." I growl loudly. Rolling over reminds me that my leg is in bad shape as I try to move it and my body stops me. Now, laying on my big back, eyes closed, I hold my face and wait for my vision to return.

Garrett_Grahame: Thank god. I flop onto the mat, facedown, and feel Bear roll off in the other direction. But I'm in no position to capitalize. I lay facedown on the mat for what feels like an eternity, greedily sucking lungfuls of fresh air and trying to dispel the dizziness clouding my vision and thoughts. That was far too close. I ease up onto all fours again and shake my head again, trying to clear it, and then slowly wobble back to my feet, searching for my opponent.

IamBigBear: I am only just on all fours. My eyes have not regained their full vision. My right eye will barely open. You may have poked it the hardest. Being at center ring, there are no ropes or a sturdy turnbuckle to use to brace my weight as I try to stand. For now, Im kneeling on my good knee, with my bad leg outstretched to the side. It'll have to do.

IamBigBear: I try to stand, but my good knee is wobbly. The downside to being a superchub bear and having your legs taken out, hard to get back up.

Garrett_Grahame: I stumble back towards the centre of the ring, still loopy, and find Big Bear thankfully still partially incapacitated too. I wipe away some of the sweat pouring from my brow and stagger over to him. Grabbing his beard half for balance, I cock my fist and pop him in the jaw. The referee, already quite displeased over the eye poking incident, backs me off and berates me for using a closed fist. "Sorry, sorry," I say unconvincingly, as I hold up my hands apologetically. Over the referee's shoulder, I still Big Bear still teetering on one knee. Breathing hard and trying to build up steam, I throw myself at the nearby ropes and launch myself at him, intent on bowling him over with a lariat.

IamBigBear: I feel you grasp a big chunk of my fluffy beard. My head is yanked up to you as you rear back a hard fist and lay it into my cheek so hard that spit flies out of my mouth across the ring. I nearly topple over. The ref interfering only gives me a moment of reprieve. As my mass returns to kneels on one knee I feel your big body spear me directly in the chest. Your broad shoulder tucked under my pancake nipples as all of the air rushes out of my lungs. My back hits the mat first, then my head hits like a ton of bricks. The lights on the ceiling are spinning. You are square ontop of me, both of my arms laying above my head. The audience cheers so loud that you've just speared the bear mountain himself and knocked him over hard.

Garrett_Grahame: It feels like I've just tackled a car. I blink from the violent impact and regain my bearings, coming to appreciate the fact that I've bowled this big brute over and that the audience is roaring for it. I'm late on capitalizing with a game plan, but I belatedly make a pin attempt. I'm already straddling his belly, so I reach up and hold his hands behind his head and lock my legs against his flanks, trying to hold him down for a delayed pin.

Garrett_Grahame: "One!"

IamBigBear: I struggle to open my eyes still, but I can feel the ref pounding the mat next to me. I lift my shoulder off the mat enough for the ref to stop the count. You've got my body pinned, but I can delay the count out for now. You slam my arms back down immediately. You're a powerful fella. I should have taken you more seriously.

IamBigBear: "You'll have to earn the victory, lad. I won't give it to you for free. Submission or knockout." I growl

Garrett_Grahame: The bear growls back at me and it truly feels like I'm fighting an animal in here. Our hands are locked and we struggle for position, with me trying to use simple bodyweight to pin the brute's arms to the canvas, and Big Bear fighting back with raw power. Deciding this probably isn't going to work, as the strain of trying to muscle him down is starting to wear on me, I get my legs under me and let him start pushing me away, then plant a foot on his chest while our arms are still locked. STOMP. I jam a boot into his sternum and shove him back into the mat. Tiredly, with our hands still locked, I peel him partially off the mat, then stomp him in the chest again, I let go of his arms and tiredly throw a few extra stomps in for good measure until the referee again intercedes, jabbing a finger into my face accusingly. I stumble to the ropes and lean across them for support, ignoring the referee while Big Bear and I both attempt to recover.

IamBigBear: You lift your weight off my big chest enough for me to breathe, but then you grab my wrists. With my arms outstretched above me, you stomp my thick chest dominately, over and over. I bounce off the mat, right into your boot, and slammed hard down again. The audience counting: 4, 5, 6...8...9...10. Payback for me brutalizing your chest with my tenderizing chops earlier. As the ref creates space for me and pushes you to the opposite turnbuckle, my arms cradle my broad chest. If ever there were a hole in my heart, its now. It's difficult to take air in. My lungs feel beyond bruised...maybe worse.I gasp and spit on the mat to the side as I lay on my back opposite you. The ref is still in your face and I roll onto my side, then use the turnbuckle to slowly get to my feet. Heavily resting against the corner padding. The Big Bear mountain is looking rough. My injured leg is being nursed and still can't hold my full weight. Both arms on either side of the turnbuckle keeping me up. Breathing is all I can focus on. My vision is blurry. The ref steps to the side as I see you making your way across the ring to me.

Garrett_Grahame: I stomp over to Big Bear, still reeling in the corner, still somehow getting to his damn feet. I slowly climb the ropes, pinning him against the turnbuckles with my weight, and hold my fist up for the crowd again. A little showmanship never hurt. Standing on the second turnbuckle, I rain a series of punches down, with the crowd counting along again. It's a test of their sobriety, my endurance, the referee's patience, and whether Big Bear can escape. One! Two! Sweat flies as I clonk Bear with another downwards punch. Three! Four! Five!

IamBigBear: Your weight is pressing on my chest again as you straddle my huge body, pinning my heavy arms down over my belly, and climb the turnbuckle. 3, 4, 5. Destructive fists bash my head to the side, deep jabs to the temple. My eyes are spinning again. Spit flies out of my mouth as you wail on me more...6, 7. My massive body is trembling. You are forcing my severely injured leg to hold up my 400 lb body and it's about to give out. 8, 9. You pull my head back hard, my mouth ajar. You wind up a powerful fist and clock me right in the temple again. My leg is nearly gone. But both of my arms suddenly wrap around your thighs and under your butt. I fall forward and hold on to you. What may look like a planned rebuttal to the audience is really just gravity doing most of the work. I powerslam you onto the mat, at the base of the turnbuckle and fall backward on my fat ass at the base of the corner. Arms over the bottom ropes, sucking in air and watching the ceiling lights swirl from the force of your 10 count barrage to my head. The ring shakes as we both land. The audience is getting their money's worth. The two big brutes are laying everything on the line.

Garrett_Grahame: Wham! Wham! Wham! I'm rewarded by seeing Big Bear's head bobble from the blows. I hit a climactic tenth punch, stirring both the audience and the referee into different kinds of frenzies, when Big Bear lurches into action, half-slamming, half-powerbombing me to the canvas with a thundering impact. Jolts of electricity arc up my back and I writhe on the mat, both pained and winded. I try to get a head up off the canvas, but it flops back down. I feel totally seized up by the impact, except for spasms of pain. I manage to flop over onto my stomach, and then slowly get on my hands and knees, wincing and holding the small of my back as I do so. I manage to clamber back up to my feet, and I turn around, trying to locate my foe once more.

IamBigBear: The world is off its axis. A hamster wheel rolling down an endless hill. Disoriented, I gaze across the ring and see my opponent stir. He survived that. He still has fight in him. My big sumo body has remained idle for too long. Muscles are tensing up. My upper calf muscle above my injured leg is hard as a rock, bruised and swollen from holding my full immense weight on a bad knee. “Well, if he’s getting up, I best try knock him down again.” I think to myself. As I slowly climb the turnbuckle to a standing position in front of it, I grin. Hobbling toward my opponent, I can see that he’s struggling too. “He can bleed.” I growl under my breath. I take one step on my good leg. Then put my weight onto my bad knee and it buckles. I fall forward and find myself on all fours. My bad knee outstretched to the side on the only angle I can hold it where it doesn’t scream at me. I let out a yell in frustration. Bet it looks like Im bowing to this schmuck. I look up and my head is already between his powerful thighs.

Garrett_Grahame: My handiwork saves me. I turn around just in time to see Big Bear collecting himself and surging into action. He lurches forward, but loses his footing and collapses onto one leg, clearly in pain and digging deep. I try to capitalize on this situation and attempt to put him away. I jam his head between my hammy legs and loop my arms around his wounded leg. I tug and yank ferociously, trying to lever him up into position for my Tidal Driver (Gotch-lift piledriver) repeatedly. Sweat pours off my face as I hunker down and try to tip him upside down, but he's planted too firmly. I can barely get him off the mat. Fuck. Change of plans! Cursing, I abandon the piledriver attempt, grimacing at the strain on my back, and hook one meaty arm, then another. Maybe I can Pedigree this sonuvabitch.

IamBigBear: You lift me to a standing position, bent over between your powerful thighs. They tighten around my head. Your wrap your arms around my rotund body, but I spread my tree trunk thighs wider, enhancing my stance and lowering my center of gravity more. You must have changed your mind, because the next thing I feel are your arms hooking mine up and behind my back. I can barely stand. I try to buck you off, but its too late. My leg buckles and you take full advantage of the moment.

Garrett_Grahame: I hop backwards as the crowd loudens. PEDIGREE. My nearly 250-pound bodyweight forcibly drives Big Bear face first into the canvas. The crowd erupts, with even the lapsed wrestling fans recognizing the move. Breathing hard, I shove Big Bear repeatedly in his flank, desperate to capitalize. But as many cruiserweights have found fighting me, sometimes it's just hard to move a big guy if they don't want to move. I tuck my head down against his bulk and piston my legs, ponderously turning him over to flop on his back. The brute seems to be seeing stars as he looks up at the lights, and I smother him for a lateral pin. I struggle to bundle up his wounded leg. The referee throws himself to the canvas and slaps the mat next to Big Bear's head. "One!"

Garrett_Grahame: "Two!" the crowd is chanting along now.

Garrett_Grahame: "Thr–" No! Bear bucks up, crosseyed but still summoning the wherewithal to get a shoulder up. He raises a hand in a fist, then tips back over onto his belly. He's got fight in him, but maybe not enough. I hold my hands on my head, in disbelief along with the crowd. It's make or break, now or never. If I can't put him down after this, it's only a matter of time before he puts me down.

Garrett_Grahame: Bear drunkenly wobbles back on all fours again, and again I trap his head between my legs. Feeling a surge of both adrenaline and desperation, I make a throat-slit gesture and duck down, just managing to get my arms around one of his heavy legs and locked into position. I huff and puff, putting everything into this, feeling like the tendons in my shoulders and back are about to snap at any moment. It feels harder than any lift I've done in the gym or in training. But slowly, ponderously, I manage to tip Big Bear upright. My knees start to take the load now, and my quads and glutes now feel like they're about to explode. The crowd loudens in a continual "ohhhhh" as they see the big man slowly, now seeming almost inexorably, lifted upright, until he's almost completely upside down. My face is completely red and I'm almost about to grey out. With finality, I let my legs go and drop on the bottom of my maroon trunks, drilling Big Bear into the canvas with a rattling thud that sounds like a gunshot. The crowd explodes. The maneuver is devastating: the larger an opponent is, the more their own bodyweight will compress their spine and neck on impact, increasing the likelihood of a knockout or more damage. I let Big Bear go limp–not like I have much of a choice–and his dead weight slowly rolls over me and flops onto the mat. My legs and arms feel like lead and I'm seeing spots in my vision, but I slowly drape myself over my opponent laterally, pressing him down with my bodyweight. I can't hook a leg.

Garrett_Grahame: "One!" the crowd is so loud now.

Garrett_Grahame: "Two!"

Garrett_Grahame:

Garrett_Grahame: "Three!" The crowd explodes–we may have started as anonymous brawlers, but they damn well got invested into this match. I exhaustedly slump off my opponent, coming to rest on my back not far from him. It looks like a double countout more than a victory, with both battered warriors staring up at the lights, but I manage a smile as the referee raises my hand off the mat. After a long delay, I slowly manage to roll onto my knees and survey the crowd. The referee raises my arm again and I stagger to my feet, surveying my fallen foe and my ravaged chest, which looks like hamburger meat. I clutch my aching back with my free hand while sweat stings my eyes. Holy hell.

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