Cerberus comes toe-to-toe with the twisted timber slayer; it’s a rare thing for the Canadian to have to look up at a foe and rarer still to be so heavily outweighed.  If the hound is aware of these advantages he hides it well, as he locks up with Big Jim and throws him to the mat. Everybody is amazed at how powerful the red giant is, not least Jim himself.  However, no one ever accused Big Jim of being compliant, and so he tries his strength against the dog once again and fails.  Sensing a need to review the situation, the Logging Crew retreat to the outside, to confer, and perhaps to rethink their ever forward game plan.  After reaching some agreement, and after the requisite stroking of animal skins, Big Jim climbs back into the ring, only to immediately tag Cletus. Cerberus is unmoved, staring blankly into the Logging Crew corner, ever the blunt instrument.  However, the pine island powerhouse is little sharper than his axe and charges forward into a lock up.  His verve may well be greater than that of his partner, and his size as well, but it makes no difference as he too is thrown to the mat.

Well all of that talking didn’t change much in terms of strategy.

These guys got shit for brains Teddy, but they’ll fight ya.

I think that’s just what Robert Hope wants, let them wear themselves out beating against Cerberus.

Cerberus grabs Cletus, easily lifting him to his feet, and begins lambasting him with backhand chops. He forces the birler into one corner and Irish whips him into the opposite corner with such force as to shake the ring, eliciting a collective groan from the fans in the stands. Yet, the logger isn’t out of the woods yet, as Booby’s beast follows him in and stomps him in the guts until he is little more than a coiled writhing mass in the corner. Adding insult to injury, Hope commands his dog to grate his boot across the lumberman’s face, a humiliating face-wash that Cerberus quickly delivers. He drags Cletus toward the centre of the ring, delivers a crushing elbow drop that sets Cletus to wailing, and then tags Robert Hope.

Robert Hope, ever the cunning opportunist, notice how he always goes in when the opposition is weakened.

Hell yes, I’d hide behind a 300-pound partner too.

Cletus gets up just in time to get bulldogged back down by Hope.  The prophet attempts a pin, only to force the whistle punk to kick out, expending more energy.  He waits, an adder’s cunning evident behind his intense gaze, until Cletus rolls to a sitting position before hitting him with a flying mare and slapping on a reverse chin lock.  The river forks rambler, his eyes glassy and unfocused, struggles against the downward pressure slowly stemming the flow of blood to his brain.  His agony and lethargy written across his bearded maw as he strains to place his feet under his massive frame and lift both he and Robert.  As he does, he drives Hope's back into the corner and frees himself, yet the apostate tries a schoolboy pin as his burly opposite stumbles toward his corner. The count is only two before Cletus’ legs propel skyward and liberate him.  

I don’t care how good you think you are or how stupid that big bastard Cletus is, you don’t beat him this early on.

True enough partner, but I think that attempt was more to keep him from gaining any of that all important momentum.

The two warriors lay wounded only for a moment, before Hope springs lively to his feet, a sinister snarl crawling across his visage.  He hits the ropes, intent upon some plan, but its end remains a mystery, as Cletus catches him coming in and drives him to the canvas with a spine buster.  Still visibly shaken, Cletus drops an unsteady leg on Hope, before crawling to his corner and offering Big Jim another taste of the action.  Big Jim catches Hope on the rise with a running high knee, then tries a cover but manages only a two. The serpentine limbs of the sou’west savage begin to twist around the body of Robert Hope, intent upon inflicting some submissive prospect, but Cerberus, like any good mutt, charges to his master’s aid and breaks the whole thing up.  Soon Cletus gets back into the ring in reply and the scene devolves into confusion. The referee lays down a firm count and a haymaker from the Hound of Hell sorts Cletus for the time being.  With that, Cerberus obediently strides from the ring, leaving only the three guys who ought to be within the ropes.  Jim gives Hope a scoop slam and then throws in a few stomps for good measure. The brute of Black Rapids lifts his foe into a hanging back breaker, but Hope comes out the back door.  Before Big Jim can catch his quarry Cerberus gets tagged back into the match.

The Logging Crew is in for it now! They haven't had an answer for the big man since this match started.

Well, you don't have to sound so happy about it!

I can't help it, for what these bullies did the last few weeks, it's time they got their comeuppance.

Big Jim backs off a touch and soon he and Cerberus begin to circle each other around the ring. Jim looks determined, but cautious, while his hellish counterpart stalks him while hiding his intent behind the red mask. The referee urges them to fight or get off the pot and both men charge each other and begin to exchange haymakers in the centre of the ring. The crowd is on its feet at the sight of this exchange of fisticuffs. While seemingly not too smart on Big Jim's part, he knows what he's doing. At the height of the brawl, his fingers find the black holes of the dog’s muzzle and he gouges Cerberus's eyes.  After a firm kick to the gut, Jim executes an improvised DDT that puts the giant on the mat for the first time in the bout. The wild woodsman grins at the crowd and proceeds to tag his partner. The Logging Crew revisit an old favourite, letting the man from parts unknown regain his stature just enough to allow a barrage of double axe handles make him wish for a hope in Hell. As Big Jim exits the ring, Cletus asks Hope what he thinks of his partner now.  Hope says nothing, but gives the inquiry a disconcerting smirk.

I can't help but notice that the pinfall attempts that we saw early on are a good deal scarcer now; do you think it was a case of the jitters?

Possibly, there is a lot at stake in this one, and I think both sides have just resigned themselves that this is going to be a drawn out affair.

It's gut-check time to be sure...

Turning his attention back to the felled leviathan, the birler cinches in a chin lock of his own and, using his beard to camouflage his efforts, begins biting Cerberus's scalp. The hound whines and screams like a demon loosed from the depths. With that, the mammoth begins to move, trying to rid himself of the loathsome lumberman. As he gets his feet under him, Cletus releases him and throws a thumb into his throat. Surprised and stunned, Hope’s hellish mercenary is left open for a bear hug. Cletus keeps a seamless grip, pressing his head into notch between Cerberus' arm and torso. Hope shouts angrily at his man and berating him in the manner of a drill instructor.

Ya gotta feel bad for Cerberus here; he's got Cletus beating on him inside and his partner chewing him out from the apron. He's getting it from both barrels you might say!

I'm not so sure, I think it's firing the big man up. If that adrenaline is flowing through his big body, look out.

Cerberus's eyes take on a maniacal glint and his hands grasp his foe's head and the two behemoths exchange a stare, Cletus ramps up the pressure, perplexed at the mountain's intransigence, but it's too late for the brawny birler. A mighty thrust sees the cur wedge his arms at his sides, break the hold and counter with a bear hug of his own. A tortured whoop erupts from the woodsman and he reaches in vain to make a tag.  Loosed for but an instant, Cletus staggers to his feet, but is caught by a huge powerslam. With that, Hope enters as a tag is made.  Hope perches himself on the top rope, ready strike; when a weary Cletus turns toward him, he executes a targeted missile dropkick worthy of the many camera flashes that greet it. Following this act of aerial artistry, the sinful sibyl shows off his power by forcing his opponent to his feet and then whirling the barely conscious Cletus around on his shoulders; a nausea-inducing airplane spin.  Big Jim is howling at his partner to come up with something, but it's of little use, the man from Beaubears Island looks like he's been drug through a knot-hole ass backwards. Going in for the kill, the oracle hooks the head and follows through with a swinging neckbreaker.

That could be all she wrote.

Well, he ought to go for a pin here.

Hope has other plans though; he waits for Cletus to raise his head then delivers a gruesome baseball slide. A collective groan, tinged with a few cries of approval, issues from the crowd as Cletus' nose is suddenly a bloody mess. He staggers toward his corner, arm out-stretched, only to receive a standing dropkick to the back. Sent sailing into the buckle, his only consolation is the tag Big Jim makes across his back. The man from Black Rapids charges into a drop toe hold, before falling victim to deep arm drag that has many believing that the loggers have little hope of disproving Robert’s revelation. The agile auspex applies an arm bar, before reaching back and tagging Cerberus once again. Cerberus rewards his master by hoisting their adversary high into the air and pressing him before slamming him to the canvas. He drops a fist, then a leg, and finally a headbutt, before going for the cover. Cletus rushes in to break it up, but is met with a leg lariat from the conscientious clairvoyant, Robert Hope. The referee counts 2 and three quarters before Jim can roll his shoulder, but the overzealous timekeeper rings the bell inadvertently.

No! I think Big Jim got the shoulder up there.

Yeah, the ref seems a little confused

The Hopeful raise their hands in a token of victory. The referee springs to action and lowers the raised arms before waving off the false bell vehemently.

Looks like this match is going to continue!

Clearly the false finish has caught the four men off guard and Robert Hope angrily berates the timekeeper.  Cerberus stares icily at the referee, while the lumberjacks try to catch their breath and regroup.  The official is trying to avoid the steely gaze of the pooch, and turns to direct him toward the action once more.  As he does, Cletus & Big Jim attack with a battering ram, sending Cerberus out of the ring. Robert Hope comes back in to get the measure of the matter, but takes a ramming himself, before Big Jim kicks the fallen forecaster and applies a stump puller, hoping for submission. Being so near Big Jim’s groin makes Robert’s hope flag more than a little, but the wily woodsman knows this is little more than a wear down hold.  To Bob’s gagging contentment, Jim lets him go, but takes hold his head. Big Jim fires a punch to the augur’s forehead and manages to strike open a wound above Hope’s eye. Seeing this, Big Jim pounces and begins to bite and claw at the wound, trying to open it wider.

We saw this last week, the Logging Crew showing that nothing is beneath them.

Probably because of the smell….

The referee steps in immediately and scolds Big Jim, not that the latter pays much mind. Yet, the sight of his blood gives Hope a renewed vigour. He gets to his feet and grabs the heretofore self-satisfied Big Jim in a belly-to –belly suplex that surprises the pulp hook punisher. He gets Jim to his feet; Irish whips him to the buckle and follows him in with a slash, which sends a wounded whoop through the halls. Another whip sends Big Jim across the ring and Hope follows once more, monkey flipping Jim to the centre of the ring. With Jim on the mat, Hope lets out a manical bellow that leaves the audience with moist pantaloons. He tries to mount Big Jim, but the rustic isn’t so soft yet, and turns it into a sunset flip. Hope claps his legs on either side of Big Jim’s head and rolls away.

This match has been up and down like a whore’s drawers!

You’re starting to sound like Cletus partner..

Jim tries to shake it off and casts an eye to the eager prognosticator who quickly rejoins the battle. The two men lock up and Hope is pushed into the buckle by the wily woodsman. The third man in the ring calls for a break, but Jim gives a parting token in the form of a slap. The official is hot and, oblivious now to Cletus’ throttling of Hope, he jabs his finger in Big Jim’s barrel chest and tells him to smarten up. The Logging Crew return to the attack courtesy of a set of nasty shoulder blocks to the revocator’s mid-section, a tag and a spike piledriver is quick succession. Cletus, the relatively fresh man still nursing a broken nose, picks up the prone prophet and gives him an atomic drop. Hope goes stumbling towards his own corner. Cletus, realizing what he’s done tries to intercept, but is too late and Cerberus gets the tag.

Here comes the Hound of Hell, Cerberus, and you know Cletus can’t be happy about this.

Of course not! Would you wanna be in the ring with a freak like that?

Cletus tries to beg off the beast, but quits early and starts in with the rights and lefts. The blows have no effect as it’s clear that the goliath has adrenaline streaming through his blood. In desperation, the logger goes to the eyes, but his subsequent Irish whip is reversed and he bounces off the ropes straight into big boot. With an eye to torture, the big man sinks in a half crab on the rustic foe and, at length grabs hold of his face for good measure. Cletus gives a scream of pain as the partial claw is clearly twisting his nose in all sorts of unnatural ways. The official thinks this a bit of dirty pool and forces the break. Undaunted, Cerberus ascends the top rope, bathes in the approval of his master, and flies headfirst into a wounded Cletus; a skull-splitting flying head-butt.

Good God Almighty, it’s over.

Positively, that’s three hundred plus pounds crashing into the body of Cletus.

You know something, I think he’s still not done yet…

Indeed, now the monster scoops Cletus up in his massive arms, a sensation the lumberjack has rarely felt, and turns him upside down in the corner; tied to the tree of woe. He backs up and eyes his target for a baseball slide.

He’ll take his head off if he hit’s this!

Big Jim might have to find an old lonesome pine to plant his buddy under….

Big Jim senses the same and, with a mere fraction of a second before impact, he rushes to the neutral corner and hauls his compatriot up and out of harm’s way. Cerberus crotches himself on the post, and Big Jim wastes no time slamming those tree trunk legs into the unyielding steel. He then gets up on the apron, and drops Cletus onto the motionless fiend. Before he can do anymore the enraged Robert Hope drags him off the apron. Jim is unfazed, he turns and attacks the diviner; a brawl ensues and calls the attention of the referee.

This is pandemonium, definitely grounds for a disqualification.

Are you an idiot? No one wants to see that. These teams have gone this far, they deserve to go all the way.

Meanwhile, Cletus  is still limply pinning Cerberus. The referee, having returned Big Jim to his corner, turns around and hits the deck

1…

2…

The big dog rolls his shoulder and staves off defeat.  A hail of obscenities rail on the ring from the capacity crowd, as Hope enters the ring again. While setting up Cletus for a DDT, he slips on the ice, receiving the Big Jim Russian leg sweep. Cerberus struggles to his feet, favouring his right leg, which is the one Cletus chop blocks out from under him. As their partners go at it outside the ring, Cletus takes hold of Cerberus’s leg, perhaps to wrap it around the ol’ pine and make a desperate attempt to finish the bout.  Cletus wearily drapes Cerberus’s leg around his neck, and plants a knee across the hound’s shoulders, bowing his body outward like a young sapling. The red giant moans in pain, and Cletus screams in reply, demanding that his opponent give up. On the outside, Hope tries to intervene but only makes it to the apron before Big Jim takes hold of his leg and hauls him to the floor, his head bouncing off the edge of the ring on the way down with a nasty smack.

That’ll leave a mark…

Big Jim clamours to the inside, signalling Cletus to lift the big man up, while he climbs the turnbuckle.  Jim leaps and connects with a flying axe handle to Coco’s sternum; he falls lifeless to the canvas. While Cletus runs interference, Jim makes the cover and the referee counts the final three.

Your winners of the match, Cletus the Lumberjack and Big Jim, The Logging Crew

The Logging Crew isn’t finished yet however. The two deranged lumberjacks now Put Cerberus through the Mill, stretching his body between a figure four leg lock and a triangle hold. Jim emits a series of feral screams, while Cletus sings at the top of his voice.

What is this? The match is over; there’s no call for this sort of thing!

This is just a little extra-curricular activity, the boys having some fun; unwinding a little…

This is sick is what it is! They proved their point by winning the match.

Obviously they don’t see it that way.

Finally a clutch of officials come to the ring and, threatening to reverse the decision at the sight of this display of un-sportsman like conduct, convince The Logging Crew to relinquish their hold and leave the ring.