J-1 Pinnacle - Block A - Round Three - Duke vs. Bradley

[Kip Whistler]

Round Three in Block A:
Duke Mongoose (2) vs. Bad Luck Bradley (4)

[Bad Luck Bradley]

The lights dim, spotlights hit the ramp and our favourite Lady Gaga remix hits:



Brad strolls out, almost all of his bandages removed. He holds the IV stand in one hand, raises it above his head to some form of reaction.

LeRay: This is a match that has been a long time coming, Sean.
Beeman: That it has Mick.
LeRay: Say what you want about either of these two men, the one thing they share is history. From their time in Memphis with one another, to their bitter rivalry, to the tag-team match in a few weeks, one thing we can always rely upon is that they give each other a run for their money.

Brad reaches up, unhooks the IV bag, digs his fingers in and releases-

Beeman: What the heck, Brad?
LeRay: That better not be pee.
b]Beeman[/b]: Why would he have an IV bag of pee?
LeRay: Can you seriously look me in the eye and tell me, definitely, that carrying around a pee bag is not something that Brad would do? On accident or on purpose?

As Sean struggles to answer, Brad douses himself. The oily fluid mixes with his sweat and as he moves forward, he slips slightly on the ramp.

Rod C: The following contest has a twenty-minute time limit and is scheduled for one fall.

The crowd roars, "ONE FALL!"

He descends it gingerly, lest he become what all wrestlers fear: a slippery Titus.

Beeman: It's... baby oil?
LeRay: Oh that's even worse!
Beeman: Worse than pee?
LeRay: Yes, because now Brad...

Brad has reached the ring and is holding onto the apron as he circles it. He goes to the steel steps, finds them too greasy to climb, attempts to hop up onto the apron, fails, and simply slides into the ring...

Rod C: Introducing our first competitor... Bad! Luck! Brad! Ley!

... and past Rod C as he announces Brad's name. Undeterred, Brad struggles to his feet, holding onto the audience rail for support. Finally on a stable surface, he begins to flex, hotdog and grandstand.

LeRay: ... is going to pose.
Beeman: Oh dear.

Brad continues to rub the oil over himself, partially to disperse the fluid, partially to make himself look as shiny and pretty as possible as he shows off what can, rather generously, be described as "muscles." His music ends and he gently rotates on the slippery floor to watch Duke enter...

[Duke Mongoose]

("Fatal Charm" by Billy Idol plays, and when the music picks up it startles Bradley a bit in the ring. Duke prances his way down the aisle as the fans shower him with boos)

Rod C: and his opponent, hailing from Ventura, California... weighing in at two-hundred and sixty-nine pounds... DUKE MONGOOSE!

(Duke slips in the baby oil left by Bradley, but manages to maintain his balance. He tries to make it look like he slid on purpose)

Beeman: Look how graceful Big Daddy Duke is! He's practically figure skating out here!

LeRay: He nearly fell flat on his rear, Beeman.

Beeman: Nearly!

(Duke climbs into the ring and referee Rothburn Sallie checks him, finding a bottle of fluid stuffed into Mongoose's trunks)

LeRay: The official has found a foreign object on Duke Mongoose. This could be ground for disqualification.

Beeman: Rothburn Sallie planted that on Duke! The old carny!

LeRay: They seem to be discussing something, and now Sallie has handed the bottle back to Duke who proceeds to start pouring it onto himself. Oh my, it's...

Beeman: MORE BABY OIL!?!? This match is going to be a complete disaster!

LeRay: Rothburn Sallie calls for the bell and this match is underway! Duke steps into the center of the ring, strikes a big most muscular pose, a big clap, and he points directly at Bradley.

Duke: Come on, Brad Luck! Let's give these folks a show!

[Bad Luck Bradley]

Brad gingerly enters the ring, eyes on Duke. The tension is electric, the crowd are wild, the men are slippery.

Duke hits a classic pose, arms in the air. Brad counters by showing off his lats with his fists together. What follows is a spectacular presentation of all muscle groups: we got bis and tris, pecs and lats, quads and abs, traps and calves.

As Mongoose shows off his glutes, the crowd reacts the hardest. Brad lets out a primal roar. Duke echoes it. Carefully, both men go to opposite ropes, lean in and slingshot themselves off. Unfortunately, the baby oil has saturated the ring. They can't get enough friction to move at a fast pace, but they get moving, feet planted, gliding across the ring and-

Beeman: Oh no.

-slide right past each other. Both men are reaching out, desperate to grab the other, but end up hitting the ropes at such a slow speed, they gently bump against them and stop. They attempt a pass again, but this time it's even worse.

Duke, however, is as clever as a dog with two heads. While Brad stops again by the ropes, Juicy Mongoosey gets another bounce in and slides slowly towards his rival. Brad is stuck, he has nowhere to go, so he does the only sensible thing he can -

Brad begins to pull himself along the ropes like a first-time skater at an ice rink. Duke, moving at higher speed than he expected, has no recourse but to stop on the ropes and pull himself too.

Both men are very slowly circling the ring in a strange game of tag.

But who is it?

[Duke Mongoose]

LeRay: We've got two grown men pulling themselves around the ring using the ropes looking like terrified children! I think the referee is going to need to step in here.

Beeman: This certainly isn't what I expected out of these two, but then again, what DID I expect? Bradley is liable to do anything!

(Rothburn Sallie shouts something to the competitors, then slides out of the ring and hurriedly searches under the ring for something, emerging with towels. He hands one to each man and then begins furiously wiping the ring canvas)

LeRay: Almost as if on cue, the referee is cleaning up the oil situation. Hopefully now we can get down to business. This is only a 20 minute time limit affair, after all.

Beeman: And last year ended in a time limit draw, so there's a precedent with these two.

LeRay: Indeed. It looks like everyone is dried off and we're set to get this match started properly.

(Duke and Brad line up opposite each other, corner to corner, and come together for a lock up in the center of the ring. At the last second, Duke side-steps, causing Brad to stumble forward. Duke ascends to the second rope and poses for the fans)

LeRay: Well, I THOUGHT we were going to get a real wrestling match at this point, but instead Duke is still playing to this hostile crowd.

Beeman: Don't you worry, LeRay, Duke's got Brad right where he wants him!

LeRay: How so? Explain.

Beeman: Shut up!

[Duke Mongoose]

Rod C: Ten minutes gone by, ten minutes remain to time limit!

(Upon hearing the time call, Bradley perks up)

Bad Luck Bradley: HOT TEN, JUICY MONGOOSEY!

Beeman: I don't like the sound of that!

LeRay: Bradley is charging at Duke, who bails out of the ring. It doesn't look like that's going to be enough, as here comes Bradley!

Beeman: Did you get a good look at Brad's eyes? The look I saw was concerning, to say the least.

LeRay: I think Duke saw the same thing, Beeman, as he's now walking backward trying to maintain distance between himself and Brad!

(As Brad gains some space on Duke, Duke does a 180 and begins jogging away)

Beeman: Is this a foot race now? What is going on?

LeRay: As Bradley is chasing Mongoose around the ring, Rothburn Sallie has begun his count.

[Bad Luck Bradley]

Bradley is gassed and stops. He walks to Rothburn Sallie and holds his hand out in a "gimmie" motion. Sallie has no idea what to do and the two bicker. The count has been momentarily paused. Duke tiptoes to the crowd and ushers a few over, speaking conspiratorially.

As Brad finally gets Sallie's phone from him and frantically places a phone call, Duke has handed out laminated cards to the crowd. He poses and each of them holds it up. On both side is the number ten, flaming and iridescent.

Bradley is infuriated, jumping up and down. Finally the call connects and he hangs up after a quick conversation, sliding into the ring and beckoning Duke to enter. As Sallie continues his count, Duke takes his time, each step punctuated with a pause, which the crowd cheers a loud, "TEN!"

As Duke gets to the apron, his belly quaking with laughter, the big screen lights up.

Upon it, is the chest of an elderly woman. Pearls hang upon a buttoned up blouse. A voice fills the arena.

? ? ?: Bradley? Boogadums?

Duke pauses. He turns slowly. Brad yells something. In a second, the angle is changed and a sweet, sweaty older lady adjusts her half-moon glasses.

? ? ?: I can't get this gosh for darn thing working, Bradders. What in the Sam Hill is this?

Bradley is laughing, pointing at Duke, who spins in bemusement. Finally, all is revealed. The older woman steps back, her kitchen festooned with home-baked cookies and pictures of her and a young, handsome, moist Brad.

Grandma: Bradley, this is your grandmother! Why did you call me?

The crowd pop. All eyes are on Duke, who gulps. Sallie hands him the phone, on which is the video call, before continuing his count to ten.

[Duke Mongoose]

Beeman: I can't believe it! Bradley actually called his grandmother!

LeRay: Brad called Duke's bluff! This is cerebral warfare on a level we've never seen in JWA!

Beeman: Well, look at the bright side: Now Bradley's grandmother won't have to wait for a phone call to hear about the butt kicking he's about to receive!

(Duke, flustered beyond imagination, slides into the ring as Rothburn Sallie reaches a count of eight. Bradley and Duke go face to face, each man moving ever slightly closer to the other)

LeRay: Things have just gotten incredibly tense between these two. You can cut the tension with a knife!

Beeman: Knowing Brad, he'd try to cut it with a spoon.

LeRay: Will you stop?

(Duke and Bradley stand with barely a sheet of paper's width between them, each man seemingly at their breaking point)

[Bad Luck Bradley]

The two men are huffing and puffing. From the hard cam, zoomed out, the crowd are on their feet, battering and stamping and cheering. They can't wait, these two rivals, these two opposing forces, ice and fire, up and down, dog and cat, alabaster and-

Grandma: Bradley? Are you about to kiss that man?

Both men jump back instantly into fighting positions, fists up. Duke turns to the big screen and points and Brad, shaking his head. Brad does the same, but after a moment, pauses and shrugs.

Grandma: Bradelino, you must bring this dashing young man to meet your grandmother.

Duke nods at the "dashing" comment, then turns to Brad with a lecherous smile. Brad suddenly regrets his decision. He turns to Sallie and commands him to end the call.

Grandma: Hold on Bradster, Martha is here.

A second woman appears on the screen.

Martha: Is that young Bradohova, oy, look at how tall you've gotten.
Grandma: That's Brad's little... friend.
Martha: Oh, with the friends now, Bradamagoo? Big change from when you were younger.
Grandma: Big change, Martha.
Martha: He couldn't get a dog to bark at him most days.

Sallie has fished out his phone, but the oil has made the screen slippery. It is not helped by Brad's sweat.

Martha: Remember when he tried to run away and got around the corner and went no-no in his shorts?
Grandma: And the Coleson's found him and oy the baggush?

Brad has the phone and is desperately attempting to end his pain.

Martha: The Coleson's? Elijah Coleson?
Grandma: Martha, Elijah has been gone - God rest his soul - for fifty years, how old do you think Bradley is?

Finally, Brad stomps on Sallie's phone, ending the call, to Sallie's terror and Duke's delight. Before it ends, we are left with one cut-off sentence:

Martha: Who is that man beside him? Is that little Snickerdoodle? Little Du-

Blessed silence. The men face each other, one laughing, the other embarrassed. A third is mourning his free calls.

[Duke Mongoose]

LeRay: Bradley rears back to throw a punch, and Duke drops down and rolls out of the ring!

Beeman: A perfectly reasonable way to avoid a punch.

LeRay: What is Duke doing now? It looks like he's confiscated a steel chair from someone in the front row.

Beeman: Be careful, Duke! Don't get disqualified!

Rod C: Fifteen minutes gone by, five minutes remain to time limit!

LeRay: Is this going to be a repeat of last year?

Beeman: What's Brad doing now? He's leaving the ring on the other side.

LeRay: And he's produced his own chair from ringside! Both men are daring the other to come and fight from opposite sides of the ring!

Beeman: Normally I'd say that this is some kind of smart strategy by Duke, but I think maybe he's just winging it at this point.

LeRay: Being around Bad Luck Bradley long enough will do that to a person.

(Duke and Brad continue to shout at each other and Rothburn Sallie just looks disgusted in the center of the ring, not even bothering to count them out)

[Bad Luck Bradley]

Brad keeps his eye on Duke and gently lowers down, reaching below the apron. Duke stands on his tippy toes to get a better look, but alas, even the hard cam can't see what he's up to.

Then he rises, holding...

Beeman: Oh my.

... A table. The crowd erupts. He sets it, his gaze never leaving Big Daddy Duke. Mongoose, not to be undone, tosses the chair to one side and sets up a table of his own. No, two tables beside one another. Wait, a third on top like a pyramid. Brad follows suit and within barely a minute, two towering furniture monstrosities are built of tables, ladders and chairs.

LeRay: Oh my.

Up, up, up Duke climbs his Babelicious building. Bradley ascends his. The pair of them, like two stubborn Kong's, mirror one another in more ways than one.

[Duke Mongoose]

LeRay: This is the most bizarre standoff I've ever seen in a pro wrestling match!

Beeman: You're telling me?!?!

Rod C: One minute remaining to time limit!

LeRay: Only sixty seconds remain before this bout ends in a draw like last year, but it might end in a double count out draw because Rothburn Sallie has begun counting the two men out of the ring!

Beeman: I guess he figured nearly four minutes of building erector sets on the outside of the ring was long enough.

LeRay: This has turned into a game of chicken! Neither man wants to be the first to move!

Beeman: They had both better move or this one is going to be over!

(As Sallie reaches a count of seven, both Duke and Brad lunge forward to get back in the ring, but their momentum causes their structures to teeter and collapse under their weight. The crowd gasps as the two men come tumbling down into piles of wreckage)

LeRay: OH MY! Both Duke and Bradley are down and may not be able to answer the count!

Beeman: Come on Duke! Do it for Martha!

LeRay: Who?

Beeman: That old broad that was on the video call with Brad's grandmother! Weren't you paying attention?

LeRay: Rothburn Sallie is at nine - both Duke and Bradley manage to make it to the apron and under the ropes to beat the count!

Beeman: But the clock is ticking!

Rod C: Thirty seconds to time limit!

LeRay: Duke and Brad are clawing their way across the ring toward each other, but with so little time remaining what can either man do to the other?

Beeman: With the shape they're in after that fall, anything could be enough!

Rod C: Twenty seconds!

LeRay: They're fingertips away from each other! This crowd is on its feet!

Beeman: Some of them don't have a choice because these two stole their chairs!

Rod C: TEN SECONDS!

Bad Luck Bradley: HOT TEN!

Duke Mongoose: YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!

LeRay: Both men have sprung to life and lunged forward, and... the bell has rung! Duke and Bradley are slumped against one another, barely conscious!

Beeman: Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think this is the first contact they've made with each other.

LeRay: I think you're right, but it's too little, too late, as we once again find ourselves with a time limit draw. Duke and Bradley split the points.

Beeman: At least Duke stopped Brad's winning streak. A little taste of what's to come when Duke & Penguino defend their titles against the Bad Luck Bros.

LeRay: Indeed, Bradley's streak of good luck has come to an end, but a draw isn't the end of the world. He could find himself still sitting at the top of the group when tonight is over.

Beeman: If Brad wins this thing I'll eat a shoe.

LeRay: I'm going to hold you to that.

Beeman: You would.