Post by Jman2k3 on Jun 12, 2023 4:59:04 GMT
6/11/23 Arena Mexico / Mexico City, Mexico
Scott Stevens vs. Abe Libschitz
We return from Zion back into Arena Mexico, where inside the ring, the competitors for our next contest are already standing, ready to go in opposite corners. Scott Stevens looks strident in his focus, his hands gripping the ropes, ready to charge out and get this bout underway. Across the ring, Abe Lipschitz is…not. On wobbly legs, his smile is wide, sloppy, his eyes drooping.
Joe Hoffman: Does it…usually take Abe Lipschitz THAT long to get to the ring?
Richard Parker: I…honestly? I don’t pay attention. He’s…one of the weird ones. Him and his friends.
Joe Hoffman: So…the whole…gyrating against the guardrail…the drooling…you can’t confirm if that’s part of his act?
Richard Parker: Joe…look…the guy is eating ‘baby asprin’ and caffeine-free Mountain Dew from Cancer Jiles. And you are WELL aware of what that piece of trash gets into.
Joe Hoffman: I mean, I don’t–
Richard Parker: Well that’s good. Because I wouldn’t want to be milling around that dumpster he calls a cryochamber either.
PRIME official Ashley Barlow directs between Stevens, who is eager to get this underway, and Abe, who she literally has to help back to a full stand. In the process, he nearly grabs her and tries to dance with her. Something…is very off here.
Joe Hoffman: I…don’t understand this.
Richard Parker: And neither do I. Neither. Do. I.
DING DING
Uncoiling, Stevens charges forward, grabbing hold of Lipschitz, who is milling around his corner, shouting out something about Marjorie Taylor Greene. A tight collar and elbow from purported Demi-God of HOW becomes a biel toss, sending Lipschitz skittering across the ring.
Joe Hoffman: Five inches in difference, nearly fifty pounds, and it looked like he just ragdolled him across the ring with little resistance.
Richard Parker: And Abe is…laughing?
Joe Hoffman: Wasn’t there something shared about Abe feeling great going into this match? That people should beat their life savings on him?
Richard Parker: I would have even dropped fifty dollars on that, and if you did, your pants are probably filling with crap.
Joe Hoffman: Easy money?
Richard Parker: No resistance.
Abe staggers drunkenly to his feet, putting up his dukes. Stevens brushes an errant hand side, grabbing hold of Lipshitz with a side headlock, jerking him, trying to torque his neck. It’s crazy, then, that it’s Scott Stevens feeling the sting of such a maneuver, as Lipschitz blindly trips him and leverages for a pin, nearly showing the world the famous Stevens scorpion tail with how much of his tights he has a hold of.
ONE
TWO
NOOOOOOOOO
Stevens kicks out, grabbing at the waistband of his tights and yanking them back up. Nobody wanted to see those dangerously pale buns which are stark against his tanned and tattooed skin. Annoyed, he gets up, and as Abe stumbles his way back to his feet, and seeing that he is remaining stationary, grunts and throws his leg.
Joe Hoffman: Remember The Alamo!
Richard Parker: Damn, did you see how badly Abe’s head jerked back?
Lipschitz lays splayed out, and Stevens, realizing just what he’s dealing with, grabs a hold of him, lifts him up, and, with his arms locked around his neck, spikes him into the canvas.
Joe Hoffman: Toxic Sting! Cover!
ONE
TWO
THREE
DING DING DING
Vince Howard: Your winner…by pinfall…SCOOOOOOOOOOTT! STEEEEEEEEEEVENS!
Joe Hoffman: That…was quicker than most might’ve expected.
Richard Parker: And a different result than most would think going in, with Lipshitz being the next contender for the PRIME Alias title.
Stevens celebrates as Abe lays on the canvas, rolling around.
Scott Stevens vs. Abe Libschitz
We return from Zion back into Arena Mexico, where inside the ring, the competitors for our next contest are already standing, ready to go in opposite corners. Scott Stevens looks strident in his focus, his hands gripping the ropes, ready to charge out and get this bout underway. Across the ring, Abe Lipschitz is…not. On wobbly legs, his smile is wide, sloppy, his eyes drooping.
Joe Hoffman: Does it…usually take Abe Lipschitz THAT long to get to the ring?
Richard Parker: I…honestly? I don’t pay attention. He’s…one of the weird ones. Him and his friends.
Joe Hoffman: So…the whole…gyrating against the guardrail…the drooling…you can’t confirm if that’s part of his act?
Richard Parker: Joe…look…the guy is eating ‘baby asprin’ and caffeine-free Mountain Dew from Cancer Jiles. And you are WELL aware of what that piece of trash gets into.
Joe Hoffman: I mean, I don’t–
Richard Parker: Well that’s good. Because I wouldn’t want to be milling around that dumpster he calls a cryochamber either.
PRIME official Ashley Barlow directs between Stevens, who is eager to get this underway, and Abe, who she literally has to help back to a full stand. In the process, he nearly grabs her and tries to dance with her. Something…is very off here.
Joe Hoffman: I…don’t understand this.
Richard Parker: And neither do I. Neither. Do. I.
DING DING
Uncoiling, Stevens charges forward, grabbing hold of Lipschitz, who is milling around his corner, shouting out something about Marjorie Taylor Greene. A tight collar and elbow from purported Demi-God of HOW becomes a biel toss, sending Lipschitz skittering across the ring.
Joe Hoffman: Five inches in difference, nearly fifty pounds, and it looked like he just ragdolled him across the ring with little resistance.
Richard Parker: And Abe is…laughing?
Joe Hoffman: Wasn’t there something shared about Abe feeling great going into this match? That people should beat their life savings on him?
Richard Parker: I would have even dropped fifty dollars on that, and if you did, your pants are probably filling with crap.
Joe Hoffman: Easy money?
Richard Parker: No resistance.
Abe staggers drunkenly to his feet, putting up his dukes. Stevens brushes an errant hand side, grabbing hold of Lipshitz with a side headlock, jerking him, trying to torque his neck. It’s crazy, then, that it’s Scott Stevens feeling the sting of such a maneuver, as Lipschitz blindly trips him and leverages for a pin, nearly showing the world the famous Stevens scorpion tail with how much of his tights he has a hold of.
ONE
TWO
NOOOOOOOOO
Stevens kicks out, grabbing at the waistband of his tights and yanking them back up. Nobody wanted to see those dangerously pale buns which are stark against his tanned and tattooed skin. Annoyed, he gets up, and as Abe stumbles his way back to his feet, and seeing that he is remaining stationary, grunts and throws his leg.
Joe Hoffman: Remember The Alamo!
Richard Parker: Damn, did you see how badly Abe’s head jerked back?
Lipschitz lays splayed out, and Stevens, realizing just what he’s dealing with, grabs a hold of him, lifts him up, and, with his arms locked around his neck, spikes him into the canvas.
Joe Hoffman: Toxic Sting! Cover!
ONE
TWO
THREE
DING DING DING
Vince Howard: Your winner…by pinfall…SCOOOOOOOOOOTT! STEEEEEEEEEEVENS!
Joe Hoffman: That…was quicker than most might’ve expected.
Richard Parker: And a different result than most would think going in, with Lipshitz being the next contender for the PRIME Alias title.
Stevens celebrates as Abe lays on the canvas, rolling around.