A greasy grin unfurls across Big Jim’s face at the thought of grappling to come. As Blade begins to beckon him in, the man from Black Rapids winds his arms and comes toward the centre of the mat as the bell is heard. Jim tries for a lock –up, but the man in black will have none of it, he gives a swift kick to the inner thigh that buckles the woodsman long enough to apply a front facelock and hit a swinging neckbreaker. He quickly gets to his feet and, standing over the fallen logger’s upper torso, swivels his hips in a manner befitting Rick Rude, before dropping drown to sit on his chest. The wounded whistle punk emits a short and sharp grunt as the air rushes out of him, but still has the presence of mind to pull Jonathan over into a sunset flip for a count of 1 ½ . The two combatants roll away from each other a few inches and both come to a knee opposite each other. Quick to follow up, Blade charges in with an attempted spear, but comes up empty as Jim drops flat to avoid the collision, sending the 25l pounder skidding across the mat. As he rises, the perverse pulp peeler is there with a kick to the gut that rolls him onto his back. He splits his foe’s legs and delivers a headbutt.
 
Look at this ugly bastard, right to the nuts….
 
Precisely Joey, Big Jim likes to play dirty.  Jonathan Blade is gonna have to watch out in this one.
 
He’s gonna have to watch out he doesn’t get sued for gimmick infringement Ted.
 
Jim’s through playing now though, and lifts his opponent up. He stands behind and hooks a leg over Blade's opposite leg. Jim then forces him to one side, traps one of the arms with his own arm, and drapes his free leg over the neck, forcing it downward. The Octopus hold is synched in, but Jon’s not in the mood to give Big Jim the satisfaction of a submission. Jim’s not looking to end this anyway, and grabs the top rope to add more pressure to the hold, at least until he breaks it in the face of the official’s disqualification count. After a brief reprimand from the striped enforcer, Jim is back on the hunt. He makes to raise his adversary from his doubled over position, but a sharp thrust to the throat sends Jim away coughing. The master of Thuganomics puts both hands round Jim's head while jumping up to place both his knees against his back; both grapplers fall backward, the collision with the canvas giving the lung blower it’s ghastly effect. Adding insult to injury, Blade rubs his boot into the lumberman’s face, then runs and rebounds off of the ropes to deliver a running low-angle single leg dropkick.
 
Jon is dictating the pace of the match up so far, a credit to his in-ring ability.
 
Try to keep it at half-staff Teddy.  Jim had him tied up in knots earlier on, but he let go. I guess no one ever accused him of being a genius, but he’s usually smarter than that.
 
Jim escapes to the outside, trying to collect himself and rethink the situation. His primitive mind offers him few solutions and he stops at the timekeeper’s table to rub his moose skin in the hopes of some inspiration. Finding none forthcoming, and ever mindful of the referee’s count, he mounts the apron once again, only to have Jonathan baseball slide under the bottom strand and knock the pins from under him. Jim keeps a firm grip on the top rope and manages to land on the apron and re-enter the ring. Dauntless, the man in jean shorts rushes back inside the squared circle. Finding Jim still coming to himself after his blitz attack, he runs toward him and somersaults over him. As he falls, he grabs the Black Rapids bully by the neck, pushing it downwards and causing it to jerk backwards and snap. From the mat, Blade performs a masterful nip-up and, raising his hands in a token of victory, bathes in the chorus of cheers that greet him once again. Big Jim struggles to his feet, hands cradling the back of his head and neck, but finds himself on the receiving end of a whip to the buckle. The man who claims invisibility rushes in with a shoulder block to the abdomen that forces a wounded whoop from the very bowels of Jim’s being. Unsatisfied, he mounts the buckle, grinds his pelvis in jest over the broken form of the pulp hook punisher, and begins to rain blows upon him.
 
Jim has no answer; he’s being steamrolled here in the early-going. Finally, someone is making that Deliverance reject squeal like a pig…
 
He’s a long way from home…
 
I see what you did there Ted.
 
But seriously Joey, Jim has be having an off night.
 
Maybe his squirrel was a little under-cooked at suppertime...
 
As Blade hops down in recognition of the official’s count, he gives him a scowl before making a tight circle, intent upon returning to her prey. The Sou’West Savage manages to raise a boot that collides with less than ideal force. Still, it’s enough to stun and Jim’s decided that regrouping isn’t working, it’s time to bull ahead; not one step backward. Braced against the ropes, however temporarily, Blade is in prime position and Jim clotheslines him, the force and momentum carrying both of them over the top rope and onto the floor. Jim shakes like a dog, seemingly ignorant of the jeers that have welcomed this latest effort. He gathers up his foe and slides him into the ring legs first, his upper body still on the apron. The man from Black Rapids then walks across the apron and executes a leg drop onto Jonathan's sternum. Sputtering, Blade instinctively coils up in the ring, but Jim lifts him to his feet, only to rake his eyes. The wily woodsman manoeuvres himself behind his opponent and bends them forward. For a moment Jim remembers the low bleating moan of the cow moose before pulling one of Blade’s arms back between his legs, while the other arm is hooked. Jim now lifts him up over his shoulder, and then falls forward to slam the thug against the mat back-first. He hooks the leg and makes the cover, but Blade kicks out with force at two. It won’t be that simple to put him away.  Jim rolls onto his back, searching the lights above for inspiration.
 
You ain’t gonna find answers up there, get up and fight!
 
You have to believe that Big Jim is softening Jon up for a submission, but Blade has forced this one into a pace Jim simply can’t keep.
 
Well it’s his job to slow it down not lay there like he just shot his load. 
 
The referee rounds six, heading to seven, when Jim bursts from the back, like the proverbial bat out of Hell. His eyes are wild as he lays in a heavy-duty elbow drop. A second attempt however hits nothing, as Blade has the presence of mind to roll clear.  The twisted timber slayer rises, only to be greeted by a dropkick to the knee, which buckles him, and rope-propelled Yakuza kick that puts him on his back. A quick cover produces a convincing two count before Jim can roll his shoulder clear of the mat. Jon doesn’t seem put out in the slightest, likely realizing that he’ll need to dish out a bit more punishment, but finding consolation in the knowledge that he’s firmly in command of the action. He waits, brooding over his opposition, watching the lumberman raise from the mat. When the time is right, he hooks the head and applies the guillotine choke, struggling to wrap his legs around his hefty foe, while Jim fights to deny him. Spittle flying from the perverse pulp peeler’s mouth and his eyes baleful and bloodshot, he twists his body to block the scissors that he knows will spell defeat. He moves his bulk laterally and is clear of the grasping legs. A momentary pinfall sees Jon twist himself as well, removing his shoulder from the mat. When he does, the almost serpentine arm of the whistle punk slips into place behind Blade’s head. Locking his hands together, he dips his shoulder into Jon’s throat, forcing him to relinquish the hold, lest he be rendered unconscious as well. Jim rolls free, disregarding his advantage and sucking wind for all he’s worth.
 
A mistake there Joe, he could have put Jack away.
 
He ain’t thinking that far ahead, he just escaped from a chokehold; an illegal chokehold, I might add.
 
Ref never called for the break. He saw it; it obviously looked clean to him.
 
Official’s these days got no backbone; playing fast and loose with the rules.
 
The Black Rapids Brute hasn’t seen this many pinwheel lights before his eyes since Vancouver’s 2009 dirty needle deathmatch on East Hastings and Main. He manages to get to one knee, but that simply provokes his opponent into charging his position, and springing off the knee, intent on a Shining Wizard. Yet, before his opponent can connect with his devastating kick, Jim gives a mighty shove that sends him backwards, and to the canvas, in a hurry. Tangled in the ropes, Jon scrambles to all fours, but is clocked with a haphazard punt kick from the ragged rustic. Eager to regain his bearings and slow the pace of the contest, Jim opts to grab Jon’s legs and stretches them backward executing an excruciating stump puller. Blade’s face is the definition of agony, though it isn’t clear whether it’s brought on by the hold, his newfound proximity to Jim’s unwashed nether regions, or perhaps a combination of both. At any rate, he manages to summon the power of his long legs to pull Jim forward, and his liberated arms to hook the birler’s legs. The brief pin doesn’t last long enough to talk about, but sets Jim on edge again. The two grapplers disengage and as they turn to face each other, Jim jams a soiled thumb into the eye of his opponent, gaining stern warning from the referee that affects him not at all. Jim rams a knee into Jon’s back, forcing him through the top and middle ropes. He rears back and jumps on Blade’s back, forcing him down on the coated metal. He then turns his opposition over and places his head on the bottom rope facing the middle strand. He then hooks each of his opponent's legs then falls backwards to slingshot Jon into the rope neck-first, leaving him to spasm on the mat, holding his throat. Big Jim once again receives harsh criticism from the official, the man in black and white is mincing no words, he’ll disqualify if he has to.
 
Well, he’s really letting Jim have it.
 
Rightfully so, this bully has got the crazy idea that that backwoods sort of wrestling is alright.
 
Oh yeah, it’s a crime when Big Jim pulls a few dirty tricks, but Jonathan Blade shits cotton candy, right?  Just because he’s one of your favourites, he can do no wrong. Try to have some integrity.
 
Please….gimme a break….
 
The lengthy diatribe by the ref, is wearing on Jim’s meagre patience, but before his decks the insignificant man, and forfeits the encounter in so doing, the stripe-shirted arbiter draws to a close and motions for the match to continue. Of course, the respite has allowed Jon ample time to recuperate, but he plays possum. Jim drags him upright, and receives a pair of stiff shots to the gut and a scoop slam for his trouble. Those assembled in the hallowed halls of the arena, save for those few unrepentant malcontents who insist on cheering for the heel, begin to rally around the recently revived gappler. The din of the crowd gives Jon that little something extra that only the truly beloved can ever possess. He guns his engines once again.
 
The crowd is getting behind Jonathan Blade!  Listen to this ovation!
 
What an attention whore!  Big Jim might not have two brain cells to rub together, but at least he’s not out her pandering to every snot-nosed kid and future working girl in the building.
 
Somewhat embarrassed, Jim charges, but is met with a power slam. He scrambles to his feet, still on rubber legs, and is clamped in a headlock. Jonathan grinds the hold, working his arm around the woodsman’s head. The Sou’West Savage tries to bounce himself of the ropes, but to no avail. He tries again, but Blade stops short, clearly in control at this point. Finally, Jim resorts to a half-hearted atomic drop that sets him free. He tries to capitalize but receives a shot to the gut; he makes a quick circle and raises a double axe handle, but gets interrupted by an elbow to midsection.  Jonathan sends him to the buckle and begins to pummel the lumberjack’s abdomen with rights and lefts. Big Jim tries a knee and a switch-out to stop the onslaught, but his own shot is blocked and Blade punches his way out of the corner and finishes off with a bolo-up punch that elicits a huge pop from the multitudes. Calling for the end, Jon sets up for a piledriver and Jim is dropped head-first on the mat with a crunch and Blade effortlessly floats over and applies the STF.  As he wrenches back, his eyes locked on the image of himself towering over the entrance way, the crowd begins to boo uncharacteristically.  It takes a few minutes for the XWA cameras to reposition and catch a glimpse of the jocular countenance of Cletus leering at the action within the ring, having seemingly hopped the barricade seconds earlier.  As fast as his two legs can carry him, Cletus bounds onto the ring apron, immediately intercepted by the referee.
 
Cletus has no business down here.
 
His partner’s in the match!
 
He’s not a manager, he’s a wrestler.
 
So?
 
You’re a wrestler, you’ve got a wrestling licence. You’re a manger, you’ve got a managing licence to be at ringside. You can hold both at once.
 
Well aren’t you just the fountain of information…
 
By this time, Jonathan blade has broken the hold, intent upon dispatching Cletus himself, if necessary.  Little does he realize that, from under the ring, secreted until this moment, creeps Jill, who never the ring following the last contest.  With the referee distracted, she plants a kick on the unsuspecting Blade where the sun doesn’t shine.  She walks over, hits Big Jim a hard slap across the face, and then she’s out.  Cletus, on the apron, seeing the job is done, holds up his hands in acquiescence and drops to the concrete, seemingly agreeing to leave. Big Jim wastes no time and slaps on the Pulp Hook claw, the instant that Jon turns to face him. It soon overwhelms him, and he falls to the mat. He loses the strength to keep his shoulders off the mat and a three count later, it’s Goodnight Irene.
 
A courageous effort here by Jonathan Blade, he came close but it was 3-on-1 out there.
 
This ain’t a dance, close don’t count.
 
Big Jim releases the hold only to allow him to grab a chair, tossed inside by the Lady Logger, and begins to beat Jon mercilessly. He takes the pulp hook and rakes at the defeated man’s forehead. Finally the Beaubears birler looks at his partner with concern and decides he ought to intercede. An army of officials is surrounding the ring, cautions to enter, but Cletus breaks through them and fetches the moose skin. He re-enters the ring and, with a stiff kick breaks up the onslaught by Big Jim. The two loggers have a standoff, before Cletus stands aside and reveals that he’s flung the pelt across the broken body before them. Jim stops; his expression lightens, tears well in the corners of his eyes, he crawls toward the skin and tentatively brushes a hand against it. Cletus gives some encouragement and his partner finally cuddles up to his erstwhile enemy, and spoons him. Feeling the soft coat on his face, his breathing slows and his rage dissipates.
 

This is sickening…