School for Jobbers

Garrett_Grahame: Well well well. I brush the curtains aside and make my way down the makeshift aisle, slapping hands with a few bar patrons along the way. I can't say this is a rematch I'm especially looking forward to, given the mauling I took in the process of earning my underdog victory last time. But I also can't say I don't feel a bit of confidence, and I have a bit of a 'local legend' status after upsetting Big Bear in this very same venue just a few weeks ago. I unhurriedly make my way to the ring, exchanging a few fist bumps with patrons who either appreciated my performance or appreciate the freely-flowing alcohol, then hop up the ring steps. I pause to wipe my boots on the apron and survey the crowd. The bar is packed, with the nearest tables barely separated and fenced off from the ring. It's a good house, and they've already seen some rowdy fights tonight. No doubt, they're looking for another one.

Garrett_Grahame: I slip my husky frame through the ropes and make a quick jog around the ring, waving to the crowd. I'm clad simply and professionally as usual: black boots, blue kneepads, blue trunks. "Annnnnnd introducing first, from Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada," the announcer crows. "Garrett...Grahame!" I step on the turnbuckles and raise both fists for the crowd, who respond with some surprising enthusiasm. That last match carried a little more weight than I expected. Pleased, I hop off the turnbuckles and work on some squats and dips in the corner to limber up. That may be the last happy moment for me tonight. I gulp and turn my eyes back up the entranceway.

Garrett_Grahame:

IamBigBear: The bar lights go out. The sound of war drums echo across the mahogany bar counter and concrete floors. Silence filled with anticipation settles in the air. The curtain moves as a mountain of a bear emerges. Clad in only a black 5xl speedo and black boots, the 400 lb enormous Big Bear waddles toward the ring. My rotund belly and thick pillowy chest wobble with each thunderous step. My tree trunk thighs barely fit down the isle between tables in the packed bar and my right knee is clearly donning a black brace as I hobble a bit with each step. The previous match defining injury seems to have healed a bit, but it is still painful. Climbing the ring steps slowly, the creak beneath my immense girth. I finally squeeze through the middle and top rope as they spring back into place and take my place in the opposite corner. A cold, vengeful scowl across my chubby bearded face as I stare down the big man that destroyed me mercilessly last time. I won’t make the same mistake twice. I wait for the bell.

Garrett_Grahame: Thud thud, tha thump! The war drums set the stage for an intimidating entrance that legitimately seems to chill the crowd. The ornery bear slowly enters the battlefield, not playing up to the crowd, just icy cold and menacing. He tries to bore a hole into me with a glare, but my eyes can't help but be drawn to the sight of a black knee brace. I was relentless in trying to chop down this big redwood of a man last time, and it worked. That knee brace just paints a bright target for me.

Garrett_Grahame: "Alright gentlemen, let's bring it in," the referee insists, beckoning my opponent and I to the centre of the ring, face-to-face and belly-to-belly. Big Bear seems to keep staring at me with cold, murderous intent. "Let's have a good, clean match here. You know the rules. Those barricades outside the ring are a little close, so watch it with the crowd. Good? Alright, shake."

Garrett_Grahame: Big Bear is positioned almost too close for a handshake, attempting to loom over me, but I hesitantly extend a hand. It's the honourable thing to do.

IamBigBear: I grab hold of your hand with a big burly grip and squeeze hard. Hoping to crush the bones if possible. The bell sounds and the ref doesn’t notice. I immediately pull you in close, lower my broad shoulder and wrap both arms around your husky mid section. Charging into the turnbuckle, the reinforced ring moved a few inches as the audience gasps. Better make the most of my still injured knee while I still have use of it. With my hefty shoulder lodged in your big belly, I ram you over and over into the hard turnbuckle. 5 times in total. The crowd goes wild at the early, merciless action. Big Bear has always been the dominate force in this arena. Seeing him back in form, many of the bears hoist their beers to sloshily cheer the massive bloke on.

Garrett_Grahame: My hand hangs in the air for a moment before Big Bear enfolds it in a crushing grip, then enfolds me in a crushing grip. I forgot how fast he can move! Before I realize what's happening, he plows me into the turnbuckle and rams his battleship of a frame into me repeatedly, knocking any breath I had in my lungs out of them and maybe bruising a rib or two along the way. Wide-eyed, I sag to the canvas as the referee indignantly interjects, waving at Big Bear to break off the assault.

IamBigBear: The bear of a ref puts his hands on my thick chest and forces me back. There’s a bloodlust raging beneath the surface and he sees it. He looks down toward you to check on your status and before he can even blink, I’ve charged at you and thrust my fat hip into your face. Your head slams hard onto the bottom turnbuckle. I turn around and sit on your face as the ref raises a finger and scolds me for being too brutal. I can feel you trying to breathe, but I simply cross my arms and shrug.

Garrett_Grahame: WHAM! Wheezing, I try to regroup, but Big Bear breaks free of the official and charges. The hip attack is a complete car crash. I reel in the corner, my head lolling against the turnbuckle. What the hell is happening? Bear sits down, adding excruciating pressure to the neck he just damaged. My legs kick at the canvas as I flail and try to get my bearings. The referee attempts to intercede again. He throws fingers in the insolent brute's face. "Alright let him up! One! Two! Three! Four!" He starts prying at Bear's sarcastically crossed arms. "Off!"

IamBigBear: Finally, adhering to the refs incessant complaints, I lift my fat ass off of the face and chest of my opponent. That’ll put him in his place. The ref has me stand in the opposite corner and wait for the husky fella to stand. The guy is struggling to his feet. I grin. If only he knew how much torture awaited him. I rest both of my heavy arms on the ropes and let my big back hit the turnbuckle pads. Trying to alleviate any weight I can from my knee while I have a moment.

Garrett_Grahame: I peel myself off the mat and cling to the ropes, climbing them one by one until I'm finally upright. My chest and neck burns and I sag forward, struggling to breathe. "You good to continue?" I stare at the referee blankly while I wheeze, desperately trying to inhale fresh oxygen. Do I look like I'm good? I look past the referee and see Big Bear sporting a devilish grin, like a cat toying with a mouse. I cough and gulp a few more lungfuls of air, then nod to the referee. Warily and haltingly, I start forward, trying to arc towards Big Bear and circle to one side or the other instead of confronting him in a straight line.

IamBigBear: I waddle forward, seeing you nearly doubled over. The audience is roaring. Let’s give them something to clamor about. As you get within striking distance, I throw a huge sledgehammer fist in a haymaker toward ya. My right thigh shifts with my weight and I hobble just a bit as a slice of pain cuts up my leg. My eyes move from you down to my knee brace.

Garrett_Grahame: Big Bear throws a wild punch, but with my hunched posture, it misses my cheek and lands as more of a clubbing blow to the shoulder and neck–albeit one that still feels like a hit from a baseball bat. I reel a few steps towards the ropes, then regroup and return fire. I lash out with a leather boot once, then twice into his knee, but both times I hear the creak of plastic as the braces take much of the impact of my hasty strikes. Trying to change tactics to keep him off balance, I hurriedly attempt a forearm shot to his bearded jaw instead.

IamBigBear: My haymaker is sluggish and you move quicker than most men your size, myself included. Your kicks to my knee brace strain my knee, but thankfully, the brace itself absorbed most of the impacts. Distracted though, my body weight shifts and your forearm connects with bearded jaw. “You wouldn’t kick a wounded bear -“ i start to say as your fist forces spit out of my mouth and I bite my tongue hard. I stumble into the nearby ropes and thankfully catch myself with both hands on the top rope. The folks sitting at the table below look stunned, afraid I was going to come crashing over them onto their table. Dazed, I shake my head and turn around with my back to the ropes to try to find my husky opponent.

Garrett_Grahame: The forearm shot cuts off some rumbling trash talk from Big Bear and sends him wobbling back a few paces, nearly pitching himself into the audience. Throwing caution to the wind, I charge at him with a spear to his bulbous middle. My shoulder connects hard against his chest, sending shockwaves rippling through both of us, but the ropes fail to arrest all of our momentum. The top rope slips over Big Bear's head and we tumble through to the outside. Women shriek as we plunge through their table. Our combined nearly 700lb mass simply demolishes the table into a shower of pressboard and spilt alcohol. The force of us finally hitting the floor seems to shake the bar, both figuratively and literally. "Holy shit! Holy shit!" chants drown out the more frantic response of the patrons whose seating we just destroyed.

IamBigBear: My head is ringing. The ceiling lights dance a waltz of luminous wreckage as I lay flat on my fat back. You are still ontop of my chest partially. Your arms across it. I must have…taken the brunt of an impact. We’re on the concrete floor. Fuck that hurt. My ribs are on fire. The table pieces jet out to either side. Chairs and a few other tables are bent and toppled around this cataclysmic meteor impact. I try to move and a sharp, jagged pain sears my back. One of the chairs didn’t break fully. The metal jammed right into my lower back. Fuck. I shove your big body off of me and roll onto my side. All the air knocked out of my lungs. The audience screaming: “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!!!”

Garrett_Grahame: The referee is an old salt that's seen a lot of shit, but he visibly jumps and cringes from the impact. CRASH. He holds his hands to his head while his mouth gapes. They're fucking dead. He frantically looks off to the corner, where the promoter and bar manager look similarly at a loss. Finally, the referee ducks his head through the ropes. "Uh, boys, are you–I'm going to do a ten count here!"

Garrett_Grahame: I groan and try to roll over, but Big Bear does the work for me, giving me a hard shove that deposits me into a pile of splinters, purses, coats, and table detritus.

Garrett_Grahame: Groaning and gasping alternately, I slowly wobble to my feat, nearly knocking other tables over in the process. I finally stagger back to the ring and bellyflop onto the apron. Fuck it, if I can get a countout, I'll take it. I lay my head against the canvas, aching all over.

IamBigBear: Slower than molasses, I roll over onto all fours. An elderly gentleman nearby as a walker. I grab hold of the bottom rung and do of the most difficult push-ups if my entire 400 lb life. My back aches. Im not sure there isn’t a zone of my massive torso that isn’t ablaze. It feels like a train plowed me into a brick wall. I rise to a standing base. Wobbly. Very wobbly. Well, it looks like the room is shaking. That’s not good. My eyes drift upward and I see the ref angrily holding up three fingers. What’s that…is he counting?? I take a step and my knee causes trouble. Steadying myself. I finally see my opponent. He looks out of breath too. I waddle toward him. Audio coming back to my ears in a high pitched feedback screech. The crowd is cheering. They want more. I grab Garrett by the back of his head and slam his head into the ring apron. The crowd counts. 7, 8, 9. The ref gets angry, he stopped counting at 5 out of frustration that no one could hear him. He’s letting the carnage continue.

Garrett_Grahame: Like a monster movie, Big Bear somehow emerges from the violent mess of furniture and nightlife knickknacks. He staggers to his feet and casts a shadow towards the ring. I'm still breathing hard while the referee, alternating concern with exasperation, breaks off his count. Boys will be boys.

Garrett_Grahame: I'm trying to get to my senses when I feel a heavy hand grab me by the scruff of the neck, like a villain has suddenly re-emerged from the shadows to menace the protagonist again. My eyes widen again before I feel Big Bear forcibly clonk my head against the apron. Seeing stars, I limply roll back inside the ring, disoriented.

IamBigBear: After introducing your face to the ring apron, you roll away and to safety. Just out of my clutches. I growl and jam a fist into the ring apron out of frustration. The ref moves to make sure you are breathing after that face lift. I hear the audience going berserk behind me. A few folks gasp. Apparently, some blood had been drawn on my big back. Scrapes from the disaster behind us. I slowly climb the ring apron and lift the top rope, then freeze. I turn to the crowd and slide my sausage sized thumb across my thick neck. My 400 lb sumo sized body waddles to the nearby turnbuckle. *let’s give em a show. Time they see a mountain fly, it’ll be the last thing Garrett sees* I think to myself. Ascending the turnbuckle, I nearly fall, but catch myself. Garrett is on his back, he hasn’t seen me yet. Just before I go to leap, my knee steps onto the rope. The brace buckles and pain jolts through me, causing me to fall forward, off my mark. You look up and watch it all happen.

Garrett_Grahame: The stars begin to recede and and my wooziness fades slightly. I blink up at the ring lights a few times before I realize that my world isn't spinning: the lights are moving from the successive impacts. The noise of the crowd and the referee slowly reaches a crescendo and I feel fully aware of my surroundings again, finally. I finally spot Big Bear on the top turnbuckles. OH SHIT. A jolt of panic shivers up the back of my neck as I try to will my aching body back into action, but I can't. I'm instead saved by my handiwork from a few weeks earlier, as Big Bear's brace shatters and he pitches forward awkwardly, nearly faceplanting off the turnbuckles. I slowly get back to my feet and stagger over to him. Gritting my teeth, I grab a hold of his dangling head, wedging my bicep between his chin and beard. I huff and puff, trying to pull him forward even more precariously. Big Bear is barely on the turnbuckles now, and I'm supporting much of his weight holding him laterally. Until I don't. I throw myself down on my wounded back, driving Bear headfirst into the canvas with a draping DDT.

IamBigBear: Rather than taking off from the top turnbuckle, my right knee betrayed me. I only dangled from the top ropes for a moment, my big back bracing up all of my weight trying to catch myself from a complete fall, but it was too late. You had already sprung to your feet. Your big arms wrapping around me and WHAM. A 400 lb Super DDT off the top rope. The entire ring trembled and an earthquake shook the rafters of the bar. The referee was bounced backward, falling into the nearby turnbuckle and falling to the bottom of it. Barely breathing, I landed like in wrecking ball directly onto the mat on my head. My immense body going vertical for a moment as my rotund, sumo size body shakes the room and lays completely shaken on at the base of the turnbuckle. Breathing shallowly and barely moving.

Garrett_Grahame: The bar grows even more raucous as the impact shakes the ring and threatens to spill drinks. I instinctively lurch my aching body into action and cover Big Bear's prone form for a pinball, but once the referee regroups, he waves me off emphatically: the hulking brawler has half his limbs entangled in the ropes. No way.

Garrett_Grahame: My mind is a bit short-circuited from the punishment my skull has taken so far, but the adrenaline is racing through me and I know I have to capitalize and keep inflicting damage. I step over Big Bear–well, I step ON him on the way–and clamber onto the second turnbuckle, facing away from the ring. Casting a quick look over my shoulder to ensure he's still prone, I grab hold of the top ropes and shake up and down, building some momentum, then let go, jumping off to try to land on his thick chest with a Banzai Drop.

IamBigBear: My eyes blink to existence. The room is darker than I remember. I may have a concussion because my head is throbbing harder than ever. My right arm is over the rope to my right, my left arm above me under the turnbuckle. I can't lift my head. Lifting my eyes, I look up and see a hefty sight. The wrestling trunks of my opponent are plump and casting a shadow over my thick chest. He glances back at me and leaps up, then CRUSHHHH. His big bottom lands hard square on my mountainous chest. My tree trunk legs lift on instinct, but crash back down a moment later as the Banzai Drop lands pounds me hard into the mat at the base of the turnbuckle. My chubby face trapped between his powerful thighs. Unable to move, not knowing what air feels like. My thick body taking another beating.

Garrett_Grahame: THUD. I manage to drop my husky frame squarely on Big Bear's chest and feel him buck and recoil from the heavy impact. I slowly roll off him, satisfied he's at least momentarily incapacitated. I get back to my feet with a grimace, again trying to think of what to do with Big Bear so close to the ropes. I grab his legs and try to pull him closer to the middle of the ring, but even with a thick sheen of sweat as a lubricant, his dead weight is too much. If Big Bear doesn't want to move, he's probably not going to move.

Garrett_Grahame: I evaluate my options and seize upon the obvious target. I kneel down behind the fallen monster and rip at the wreckage of the knee brace, trying to remove the protective carapace shielding the wounded limb. Successful, I hold it up in the air like a trophy and then toss it in the crowd. It's a little mean-spirited, but hey, fuck this guy. I plant my arms on his thick leg, pinning it in place, and then hop up, using by own bodyweight to my advantage and dropping both my knees on the bad leg of his. Bear howls, so I repeat the maneuver.

IamBigBear: I feel the security of the plastic and velcro removed from my right knee. My head hurts and my lungs refuse to allow much oxygen in yet. My tree trunk righ leg feels colder than normal. Suddenly, WOMP. A massive ton of bricks lands right on the kneecap. Again and again. I reach down to try to find relief, but you keep applying your full body weight. You land with a big splash on it again and I howl in agony. Rolling my massive 400 lb body, I manage to crawl to center ring before you grab hold of my right leg again. I claw at the ring as I brace for whatever devilish scheme you have to further my already painful injury.

Garrett_Grahame: Bear howls again and slinks towards the centre of the ring, a wounded beast desperate to escape a hunter. But he's inadvertently turned his back, and moved himself away from the ropes. I wipe sweat from my brow and adjust my trunks as I follow him to the centre of the ring, looming over him. I wrap his injured leg up in my arms and slowly, agonizingly peel it back, locking Big Bear into the St. Lawrence Stretch, my painful single leg Boston Crab. As he struggles, I try to keep his boot secured under my armpit, and I do my best to lower my bodyweight down onto the small his back in an attempt to keep him pinned to the canvas. The big man's leg and hip are contorted in a way they shouldn't move. "Tap!" I bark.

IamBigBear: My huge injured leg arches backward and pain sears through my entire body. The St. Lawrence Stretch. A move so powerful, it has made lesser bears tap and God's beg for mercy. I slam a fist into the mat, spit flies out of my mouth onto the mat as my chubby cheeks turn red. You are arching my big back so much, the table crash from earlier begins to show just how much damage I endured. I try to reach back, but you are safely out of arms reach. Another twist from your armpit and my leg pops. Fuckkkkk. Not this again. I have only had a short amount of time to heal. But it looks like you are reopening old wounds. The ref lays down and asks if I submit. I grip my head with one hand and reach a heavy arm out toward the ropes. They are much too far....I tell the ref no and he gets up and relays the information to you and the audience. The folks in the bar go wild. They know how merciless and destructive this move is and now, with the compound pressure of my injury, they might get to see the Big Bear submit for a second time to the hero Garrett Grahame. I push my full 400 lbs up off the mat. My back screams at me, but I have to make it to the ropes. They are 5 feet ahead of me. One heavy arm lurches forward and I pull. 4 feet. Another heavy arm reaches and pulls. 3 feel. I reach out. So close to the ropes, my middle sausage finger is barely grazing it.

Garrett_Grahame: I'm pouring sweat from the exertion of trying to keep the bucking beast in place as he howls and tries to kick his leg free. Blinking away the stinging pain in my eyes, I risk a glance over my shoulder. Shit! He's almost at the ropes. I'd be able to drag a smaller opponent back in a crab, but not someone like Big Bear. Taking a calculated risk, I throw his leg away with a shove and try to spring forward with my admittedly less than graceful frame. I scissor the arm that was so tantalizingly close to reaching the ropes between my heavy legs, then lock my knuckles across Big Bear's face. With a grunt of effort, I try to cinch in a crossface that could compress his neck and compound the back damage from earlier.

Garrett_Grahame: "No way out, big man!" I feel the rasp of his beard against my arms as I try to arch his head back. "Tap!"

IamBigBear: My heavy leg slams hard on the mat. I buck up in even more pain and reach for the ropes as you quickly lay beside me and trap me in a vicious cross face. My heavy arm that was so close to freedom now tucked betwen your sweaty, round thighs. My other free arm flailing as your chin lock arches my neck back. I feel stabs of pain all around my neck and back as I struggle to take a full breath. The pressure this hold puts on even a big man's body is intense. Having just crunched my 400 lb mass onto my neck, you know just how to capitalize. I can't even see the ropes. My eyes are closed as I scream into your hairy arm. Sweat pouring down my chubby face. "FUUUUUCKKKKK."

Garrett_Grahame: I throw my weight forward and back, trying to use the see-saw motion for maximum leverage and pain. The crowd seems feverish. Big Bear seems as tough as they come, but surely they're seconds away from seeing another David and Goliath outcome. The referee remains pressed flat to the mat, staring at Big Bear intensely, awaiting his capitulation or the chance that he might faint. My arms start to feel increasingly leaden and fatigued from the time I've spent keeping him trapped in the crab, and now this. Something has to give.

IamBigBear: You rock my big head back and forth. I can feel my neck muscles being sawed and beginning to tear. Reaching desperately for the ropes, I take the deepest breath possible and plunge my heavy arm into the darkness. Thankfully, after a moment of it falling, I feel it bounce on a thick wire. I wrap my fist around it and shake it violently so that the ref knows. The ropes. Hold on. The audience is in an uproar. I can't see them, but I can feel their bloodlust. I refuse to tap out like this. This husky fella is going to pay.

Garrett_Grahame: I'm alerted to my foe's escape by the roar of the audience. God damn it! I see the ropes shaking as evidence of Big Bear's defiance. The referee springs into action and starts nudging at my shoulder. "One! Two!" I roll off Big Bear and flop against the ropes. My whole body already aches from the rip-roaring start of the match, but my arms feel like rubber after the strain of holding on with everything I had in those submission holds, for what felt like an eternity. I lean against the ropes and let those tired arms dangle on the outside while sweat droplets rain from my head onto the narrow perimeter of crash pads surrounding the ring.

Garrett_Grahame: What is it going to take to put this frigging beast down? I know the answer from the last match: wreck his leg and give him a hell of a piledriver. But I don't know if that's going to be feasible. I feel like I just gave him some of my best shots. I look over to my opponent, who is still wracked with pain on the mat, yet holding on to the ropes. Feeling a mixture of wariness, time pressure, and frustration, I make my choice. I stand up with a grimace and grab his free arm, then pull his other arm off the ropes. I feel him stir as I wrench his arms behind his back and use them to slowly lever his head and chest off the canvas. He shakes his head, either with further defiance or in fear of what's coming. I plant a boot between his shoulder blades, near the base of his neck, then throw everything I have into it. STOMP. Big Bear's melon head clonks on the canvas with a dull thud and he lays facedown and lifeless on the mat. I tiredly sink to my knees and shove him in the flank, then butt my head and shoulders into him, hurriedly trying to roll him over. He finally tips and flops onto his back, and I smother him with a belly to belly pin, desperately hoping this will do the trick. "One!"

IamBigBear: Time stops. Gasping for air, hand still on the ropes. I made it. The ref forces Big Garrett to release the hold. My neck is paying the price today. Going to need a day at the spa after this. I rest my head on the mat and breathe deeply. Then, the arm holding the ropes is pulled away and my other arm is held tight. Both held in a firm grip behind me. ARGGGG. My back again. I groan as my thick chest and now heavy upper body is lifted off the mat. Your boot plants firmly in the nook of my shoulder blades and neck. You wouldn't be able to tell with my back fat. Holy this stretch sucks. ARGGG. Before I can take another breath, you release my heavy arms and slam your boot with all your fury. THUD. I'm not sure if my nose or chin hit the hard mat first. Bouncing off, my eyes water. I lay there still as night trying to recover. Hoping for a moment of reprieve. Your fists push into my love hands and sides. Pudgy as they are, and covered in sweat, you manage to roll me over. We're both sweating up a storm. Your heat covers me as our nipples fight for top. Your breath feels like a cool summer breeze on the mountain of my pecs. "Two."

IamBigBear: Already a "Two" count? ARGGG. I throw a boulder of a shoulder up and break the count. The ref sees the fight buried deep inside. He backs off. Now if only I could move this big fella from my chest.

Garrett_Grahame: Uff. No dice. Big Bear may be hurting, but I can't knock him out like last time–not yet, at least. I slump off him and wipe sweat from my brow again, then wipe my sweaty palms on the back of my blue trunks. The ring lights and the pressure aren't helping. Taking a few deep breaths, I climb to my feet. Bear stirs and seems to start to follow. Seeing the red welts and nasty purpling bruises on his back from the earlier table catastrophe, I zero in. Balling my fist, I hammer home again and again, striking his bruised back with clubbing hammer blows.

IamBigBear: FUCKK. This guy doesn't relent. The back massage from hell rains down as I realize just how bruised my fat back really is. The ref isn't doing anything toward a ceasefire. This is fair game. I roll out of the ring and onto the concrete again. On all fours, but away from the pummeling. I take a beat. The audience is stunned that I fit below the bottom ropes. It was a tight squeeze. I use the ring apron to slowly get to my feet. Grabbing his foot from outside the ring, I yank with all my might. His head hits the mat hard and half of his torso is now dangling over the ring apron.

Garrett_Grahame: WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! Bear's body ripples under the blows, but he weathers the storm like a tank shrugging off small calibre arms fire and slinks out of the ring. The ref and I both lean over the ropes, with the former starting to administer a count, but it's short lived. Again like a horror movie villain, Big Bear rises from the bar's murky depths, suddenly grabs my ankle, and yanks with tremendous force. I lose my balance and fall flat on my back, with surprise preventing me from cushioning the blow. I see stars and quickly find myself in an unfortunate predicament, as he pulls me outside the ring. I pinwheel my arms and scramble to grab the ropes and avoid a tumble to the unforgiving concrete. Jesus Christ, where did the crash mats go!

IamBigBear: You have knee pads on. Those won’t do. Forcefully, I rip them off each knee. Tossing them into the crowd over my shoulders.

IamBigBear: I ball a big fist and slam both knees with the broad side of both knuckles.

IamBigBear: I see you flail, trying to reach through the ropes to alleviate the pressure I put as I put your knees in a vice grip on your lower thigh. Squeezing the muscles. As you sit up, I grab hold of your arm and swing you around under the ropes. You finally come to a halt, resting on your back. The ropes pressed against your pecs. Your head off the ring apron. I let loose a devilish grin. Climbing the ring apron, I stand above you looking down. My mountainous shadow engulfing you. Sweat cascades down my thick chest and plump belly. The audience gasps as I jump above you and land one of the biggest tree trunk leg drops in wrestling history across your chest. Your head flops backward hard as the ropes catch the impact of your body bouncing off the apron, crushed beneath 400 lbs of Big Bear.

IamBigBear: I sit on the ring apron, my barrel of a thigh resting on your chest. The audience cheers. AGAIN!!! *who am I to deny my fans?* I growl, roll off the apron. Climb back up, making sure to use my left leg for all of the work. Then jump and slam my left leg again onto your chest.

Garrett_Grahame: I see my knee pads forcibly ripped off as if they were scraps of blue papier mache, then tossed into the audience. Then, I grimace as Big Bear distracts me–it's a mere distraction, but a punishing one–and hammers my exposed knees. Before I can react, he swings me around. Discombobulated, I scrabble for the ropes and try to get by bearings, only to see the ring lights eclipsed. WHAM. I feel like I've had a car land on top of me. I rebound purely due to physics, bobbling against the ropes. My head lolls lifelessly under Big Bear's heavy leg. I twist my face in agony. I feel each and every rib in my chest, and I feel not a wisp of breath in my lungs. I try to reach for my chest with a faltering hand as the pressure relents, but–oh no. WHAMMMM. The ring squeaks and rattles with another thunderous guillotine leg drop. I don't know where he found the wherewithal, but Big Bear is relentlessly punishing me for my temerity. My eyes bulge and I cough spittle out of my mouth, but thankfully no blood. I open my mouth to groan in pain, but nothing comes out. I cough and wheeze, trying to curl up in agony, trying to get a breath.

IamBigBear: Crawling back into the ring, beneath the bottom ropes, I drag my husky opponent inside and grab him by the back of the head. Lifting him to a standing position, he slouches and rests his hefty body against my extra wide torso. I throw him into the nearest turnbuckle chest first. Adding insult to his already injured chest. Lifting him from behind, I set him up so that he is seated on the turnbuckle. His head bobbles. I feed a massive knuckle sandwich to his right kidney, making his back arch. While he recoils, I secure his feet beneath the top metal support that creates the turnbuckle. He tries to fight back, but I elbow is other kidney, then tuck his other leg behind the same bar. He tries to hold onto the ropes for dear life. But it’s no use. I jab his lower back with a firm elbow and he falls backward, locked upside down on the turnbuckle in a fiendish Tree of Woe.

Garrett_Grahame: Wheezing, I'm helpless as Big Bear steers me back into the ring. I partially rise to my feet on wobbly knees, but Bear does much of the work by hauling me up by the scruff of the neck. I slump forward against his intimidating bulk for support. Manhandling me like a toddler, he spins me around and shoves me into the ropes. I groan as the turnbuckle collides with my sternum, and can't mount any counterattack as I feel myself lifted onto the second turnbuckle. AGH! I recoil and lose even a tentative grip on the ropes as a meaty fist collides with my kidney. I groan and feel the brute start to pretzel my legs. I hastily reach up and try to clip him with back elbows or punches, but he silences me with a stiff forearm shot to my other kidney that makes me gasp. I strain to hang onto the ropes. THUD. The elbow sends a shiver up my spine. I flail my arms, but find myself upside down, looking at a relentless hulk of a human being.

IamBigBear: The audience erupts is chaos. Their hero is trapped and the ring is holding his huge body upside down. I crack my knuckles and begin a flurry of blows to your vulnerable belly. 5, 6, 7, 8. Each impact sending blubbery shockwaves across your gut and chest. The crowd counts loudly. 9, 10! I don’t have to worry about assaulting your knees. The pressure from your body weight being pulled by gravity is doing all the heavy lifting for me there. Tearing those leg tendons. Stretching you so painfully, yet unable to free yourself. I take a big size 14 wide boot and press it to your neck, pushing your head beneath the bottom turnbuckle. Your chest and belly arch out, into the ring toward me as you are bent backward over the turnbuckle. The ref has to count to three. Finally stepping in and forcing me back a few steps. He tries to free your legs, but they are wedged up there pretty good. Just before he manages to release you, the ring starts to shake. I had used the time to wander to the opposite corner, put both fists down on the mat, sumo style, and have charged and lept upside down into your exposed chest. For a huge cannonball splash into the tree of woe. The ring buckles and pushes against the guard rails. Knocking over a few fans drinks and pushing some tables even further back. Just before I jumped, I felt another pop in my knee as I used my right leg to make the maneuver. A sharp pain, like a knift cuts up my leg as my knee hits the top metal bar of the turnbuckle and my leg bends backward over the top rope. I went too hard. My leg goes numb. Fuck. I messed up. I scream in agony and hold my knee while lying on the mat in front of you.

Garrett_Grahame: THUMP, THUMP, THUMP. Big Bear works over my doughy midsection like a heavy bag at the gym. My knees groan with protests of their own as they're forced into bearing my full bodyweight. I hang limply, twitching from muscle spasms and pain, knowing I desperately need to get free but helpless to do so. I see the referee begin to move as a hefty boot crosses my vision, and then suddenly I'm contorted painfully, flailing and scratching and prying at the unyielding boot against my neck. Finally, the referee intercedes and delivers a strong rebuke to Big Bear. The shadow looming over me is gone momentarily, but as I feel the referee prying at my legs, the world starts to shake. I struggle to focus my vision properly, until I see a moon about to crash into me. WHAM. Big Bear flips head over heels and decimates me with a massive cannonball. The turnbuckles squeak and rattle and there's a general cacophony throughout the bar that I can barely feel through the pain. My legs finally loosen and I slump to the canvas in a heap, utterly shellshocked, utterly winded. I curl up into a ball on the mat while another sound cuts through the air–a scream of agony from Big Bear.

Garrett_Grahame: He writhes in pain in front of me while I try to will any of my limbs to operate normally again. My whole torso feels seizes up and sore, and I greedily gulp down lungfuls of air, trying to get my diaphragm to act normally after the punishment Big Bear has wrought. I roll over, roll back, get on all fours, collapse, get to the ropes, fall back to one knee, and finally manage to scrabble upright after what feels like an hour as the referee attends to Big Bear, trying to see if he needs to call off the match.

Garrett_Grahame: I stammer forwards and try to aim a kick at Big Bear, but miss completely and totter to the opposite ropes. I hunch over, holding my ribs, while Big Bear grits his teeth and sits in a seated position, the referee examining his leg.

Garrett_Grahame: I lurch into action again, approaching my seated opponent from behind. I kneel down behind him and slowly at first, then more quickly, start raining down clubbing blows to the chest and downwards elbows to the head. He gets his arms up and tries to fend me off as I attack with lethargic and then increasing ferocity.

Garrett_Grahame: Big Bear sags forward and I stand behind him, trapping his head against my lower midsection, then step around his arms. I reach forward, feeling every muscle in my back twist in agony in the process, and reach for that wounded leg. I shoo the referee away, wrap my arms around the leg, and yank with all my might, attempting to tear the leg from its socket and hyperextend the hip and knee with a Stump Puller [].

IamBigBear: The ref keeps asking if I need to quit. I shake my head no. He asks again and again. I shake my head no and hold my knee. The metal turnbuckle did a toll. But the match isn’t over. Not until that husky fella taps out or is counted out. Suddenly, big fists are hitting my plump chest. Then some hard clocks the top of my head. The ref backs up. My opponent manages to stand over me as I sit on the mat. He lifts my injured leg. I let out a loud yelp. Fuckk barely moving it is unbearable. My opponent shows no mercy. He lifts my wounded tree trunk of a leg up. My 400 lb body isnt meant to bend this way. My barrel gut is forced to take the pressure of my leg bending up toward me. Just when I think it couldnt get worse, Garrett bends be leg sideways. Another loud pop and I nearly lift off the mat from the knee jerk reaction. “Fuuuuuuckkkkkk.” My heavy arms flail behind my opponents legs. As he nearly sits on my broad shoulders, I can’t reach high enough to grab his arms. Another twist of my leg. Could this be…the ocean of agony swelling inside my gut in unmistakeable. I roar in torment. My head tucked down into my chest. This submission hold sending my mountain of a body into near shock. I. Have to..hold on…fuckkkkkkk. The ref checks to see it I submit. I bite my tongue and say the words that may seal my fate…. “I….refuse….”

IamBigBear: I claw desperately as your calves. After what feels like an eternity, I grab hold of your knees from behind and jam my thumb behind your kneecaps direcly. Thrusting my weight backwards with all of my might, I roll us both backward until Im laying ontop of you on the mat for an accidental cover. Chest to chest.

Garrett_Grahame: I grit my teeth so hard I fear that I might break a filling. "TAP!" I should. "TAAAP!" The crowd doesn't take the old-school submission seriously until they see Big Bear's formerly cold, murderous mien transformed into utter agony. They're rowdy and on their feet now–although some of that may be from the tables and drinks Big Bear knocked over with his world-shaking cannonball only moments–or minutes?–before. This has to be the end. "TAP!" But then Bear has a stroke of desperate genius and stabs my kneecaps. I gasp in pain and then get toppled over, then winded from his bulk rolling back and on top of me. I wheeze and flail my legs. I can't get a shoulder up, but I manage to drape a hand across the ropes. But every moment Bear smothers me into the mat is pure agony on my bruised ribs.

IamBigBear: The battle is getting harder by the second. Winded. I push both meaty hands down on the chest and gut of my opponent. The ref counts. “One.” “Two.” A sluggish shoulder swings up. I could have ended it there. If only I were that lucky.

IamBigBear: I push off of your doughy gut. And slowly stand. Not fully upright. I look drunk more than anything. I reach down and grab your trunks and pull you to your feet by them. You fall forward against my sweat mess of a torso. A colossus and a hero. How fitting. My heavy arms reach beneath yours and pull you in close. Chest to chest. sweaty belly to sweaty belly. A bearhug to end all. I clasp my fist by the wrist and the hold so tight it would break a fridge in half. “Submit, Big Man. Or I’ll break you in half.” I roar

Garrett_Grahame: Big Bear enfolds me in a crushing bearhug, trying to squeeze me between his locked arms and his bulky torso like he wants to get the last toothpaste out of the tube. I try to groan, but it's again wordless and noiseless; I can't really breathe. Pain spreads from the small of my back, where his knuckles are locked, through my bruised chest and flanks. I try to rear back and get enough distance to throw a decent forearm shot or punch, but it's to no avail. Desperate, I try a thumb to the eye, but I miss, and my thumb glides harmlessly off the side of Big Bear's sweat-soaked face. Fading...fading...my arms dangle to my sides. I've got to tap before he snaps me in two. But I have one last card to play. I bring my arms up, clapping Big Bear on the side of his head across both ears. WHAP. Again, with more gusto. WHAP. The dizzying blows cause his grip to slacken and I suck in lungfuls of precious air. I grab his beard with both hands, holding him in place, and clonk him with a headbutt that dizzies us both. He lets me loose and I fall to the floor in another crumpled heap, but using the last of my reserves, I hobble up while he staggers drunkenly. I double over, holding my ribs in pain, but push through and spring forward with a last ditch attack. I wrap my arm around his neck and lock it into place with the crook of my elbow in a desperation sleeper hold. You can't kill if you can't breathe, Bear. I try to push my weight into his back and force his head forward to compress his neck against my forearm and constrict that precious blood flow. He pitches back and forth, trying to shake me loose while I try to grip with my legs, attempting to get on his back and hook it in further with a body scissors.

IamBigBear: Your rear naked choke locks in. My neck being crushed by your steel beamed forearm. I try to reach up and back toward your head, but that only allows your hold to lock in further. I fall on my good knee as my injured leg jets out to the side. Barely…conscious…darknesss….drool runs over your forearm and drips onto the mat. Im still kneeling. Your leg trying to wrap itself around my wide barrel of a body to no avail. If I fall backward…its over. i wont be able to break your choke hold. Stay conscious. Stay…i feel the darkness close in. A shadow circles me. It’s the ref. My heavy python sized arms have fallen to my sides. How long have they been like that. The ref tries to lift my right arm. It falls quicky back to my love handles and bounces off. “One.” Body…move….you have to obey…. The ref lifts my arm again. It falls disobediently. “Two.” The ref is blurry. My eyes are crossing. I close my eyes. I feel my arm rise. I remember….in that moment….the shame….the crushing defeat to the hero last match. Having to be helped out of the ring and rushed to the hospital. Doctors questioning why I could be so careless. They didn’t care. They didn’t understand. Why I had to return to the ring. Why I had to ignore their commands to stay off of my injured knee else risk permanent injury. The hero one. He conquered….the villain. Im…the…bad…guy. The monster at the end of the maze who strikes fear into all foolish enough to challenge them. The nightmare to end the dream of any challenger. A fire begins to burn. Deep inside. Fueled by shame. Doubt from others. Anger. Rage. My heavy, python sized arms catches mid air. I clench the refs shirt and release it. “That’s right. I AM THE BEAST.” Reaching up, I grab your arm and squeeze hard. Shifting my body weight, I judo throw you over my shoulder. You land hard on the mat. I stand over you and step on your chest walking to the ropes. The crowd is enamored. Fearful, but amazed. They are witnessing a monster come to life once more.

IamBigBear: I turn around and lift you up by your hair. Turning you around, I bend you backward and lift you on my broad shoulders into a kneeling torture rack. My burly hand pushing your neck down. My other arm wrapped around your inner thigh.

IamBigBear: I kneel on my good knee. Im not sure how long I can hold this, but for now, I hear you moaning and screaming toward the ceiling. Let’s see if your God above can save you.

Garrett_Grahame: There's something about a sleeper hold where you can really feel when they start to go. I hang on for dear life, feeling the rasp of Big Bear's beard against my arm, and feel his life force seem to fade. He tips further and further. A hand drops lifelessly. Again. Holy shit, I did it. Again!

Garrett_Grahame: The crowd is rapt. And then, gutturally..."I AM THE BEAST!"

Garrett_Grahame: In wrestling, you win some, you lose some. It doesn't always go your way. Sometimes you give a thrashing, and sometimes you take an asswhooping. You can't always be stoic, you can't always keep your cool, but I do try to live by a code of sorts: don't let them know you're afraid. That goes for both the audience and your opponent. But in that moment, with that inhuman cry, I feel fear, and I know he's going to break free even before he manages to heave me to the canvas like a sack of potatoes.

Garrett_Grahame: Disoriented, I hear Big Bear snorting and sputtering before I feel him step on me. I cough and windmill my legs against the canvas. The crowd still wants me to win, per se, but they also can't believe what they're witnessing. I can't put any of the pieces together for a clever counter or even a basic one and I feel myself lifted high off the canvas, my belly pressed against the back of Bear's head, my spine contorted painfully to one side, my neck straining under the inexorable pull of a bear paw. He kneels down–I've at least taken out a leg–but keeps it locked in and jerks me around, jostling me up and down, amplifying the pressure and sending jolts of pain through every muscle, ligament, and tendon.

Garrett_Grahame: I don't so much make a decision to tap out so much as tap out autonomically. But after a few prolonged seconds of agony, I realize the ref hasn't seen it because Big Bear is jostling me up and down so hard that my hands are flopping erratically. I try to verbally submit, but spikes of pain keep taking the breath from my lungs. And I come to the grim realization that I might not have lost this match yet: not because I haven't been defeated, because I have. No, I'm only in this match because they can't tell.

IamBigBear: I thrash my prey upon my broad shoulders. My torture rack at the center of town square. Where all the townsfolk can watch the destruction of their fallen hero. After a few minutes, your husky frame slips a bit and in the haste of readjusting my weight, pressure is added to my right knee. I feel the pain well inside, but Im done feeling anything by now. Ive become the thing the living fear. Dead inside. A true monster of legend. I drop you onto the mat, releasing the torture rack. You land face down. Your large ass in the air. Unmoving. I survey the crowd. The townsfolk will need proof. Proof that their hero is finished. Proof of a victory earned and a defeat forever scarring. Proof that monsters are beyond the grasp of mere mortals. The Big Bear is hungry. Straddling your obese body, I sit my superchub 400 lb behemoth frame down on your lower back at center ring. Lifting your legs, I tuck them beneath my sweaty, giant armpits. My thick sumo body exerting tremendous pressure. Wrenching your legs back, the grand finale had begun. A boston crab to make even the God’s surrender.

IamBigBear: “Tap out, Big Man. Submit to your Daddy Bear.” I command in a bellowing deep tone that is as cold as it is daunting.

Garrett_Grahame: I try to submit, but even when I have the air, the words just come out of jumbles of pain. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Bear's leg must have given out and I slip off his shoulders and flop gracelessly to the mat. I can't move. I try to regroup, but nothing in my body will obey my commands; I feel completely seized up, completely tenderized. I slowly pull my arms under my chest and start to crawl, looking for the safety and stability of the ropes, when a shadow falls over me. My legs lift, seemingly of their own accord. And suddenly, a crushing weight lands on my back. I yelp as the agony returns at full intensity. Bear has seen my single leg crab, survived it, and chosen to up the ante with a full Boston Crab. My face contorts into a mask of pain and I scratch and crawl at the mat, trying to reach for ropes that feel tantalizingly close. If this was a cruiserweight on me, I could reach them. But it isn't, and I didn't just get flipped around with a few hurricanranas: I have been to war. Bear's weight is a crushing fulcrum, and I just can't move.

Garrett_Grahame: There are times when you have to concede as a tactical defeat, and there are other times where it's more strategic, or where discretion is the better part of valor, and you have to give up in order to live and fight another day. This is all these things. The pain is unbearable, and I simply can't fight back.

Garrett_Grahame: I bite one of my hands, as if trying to stop it from tapping out. "Submit to your Daddy Bear," Big Bear rumbles a taunt. It's humiliating, but I've got no choice. I slap at the mat. Nothing happens. I tap again, then reach back and slap at one of Bear's meaty calves. "Give, give." The bell has already been clanging. The pain is excruciating, and I feel my body start to shut down, like a crashing computer with a cascade of programs locking up. My legs and lower back just feel more numb than anything. My arms feel increasingly wooden. I'm starting to feel lightheaded.

IamBigBear: I keep the boston crab locked in. The hero is tapping feverishly. Time no longer matters. Nothing does. This is about sending a message. To other heroes who, in seeking adventure, or belief in their strengths, decide they are brave enough to step into my cave. My domain. This is how your journeys will end. In pain. Desolation. And fear. The sound of the bell finally reaches my consciousness as the ref is tapping on my chest to release the hold. The match ends. I drop the husky heroes legs and sit down next to him. The ref raises my heavy arm in victory. Sweat soaking my 400 lb sumo body. The audience a symphony of cheers for the war that took place. The husky hero dominated. The Behemoth Big Bear, the superheavy weight champion.

IamBigBear: Monsters exist. Some live in caves. Some forests. Others inside rings…

IamBigBear: -END-