Big Jim vs. Jerry Nate: 3 stages of hell for the KotDM title

[Jaggeroth/Jerry/Grimey]

"Hey, shouldn't we be starting the first pre-main event by now?"

"Yeah, we're wasting camera time here. Hey, production guys?! Que-up some music for us already and get some asses out here!"

-A hand came across the butcher-tron, reaching low before pushing the play button on a boom box.-

"I come from the land of Bud Ice and snow!"

-The camera panned out to reveal Jerry Nate sitting in a lawn chair, that was resting in the back of his 4x4 pickup truck, which was parked in the back row of the EVPW parking lot.-

"Hey, Jerry Nate! I heard you like being a red neck, so we put a redneck thing, inside a redneck thing, and put a redneck in it!"

"The fuck did you just say to me, Pussy Lips?"

-A miniature television set was broadcasting the ppv right to Jerry Nate, and it seemed as if he had been out in his truck all night as the lining of the back was chock full of empty Bud Ice cans. The Shotgun Kid looked on, another can of the swill lifting to his lips before a massive inhale imploded the liquid from the metal container and passed his gullet.-

"Did that lumber fuck get lost? Who forgot to pin a map to his forehead? Come on, I only got half a case left...Oh! And thanks to Bud Ice for being the official sponsor of Total Carnage, and thanks for the lovely gift wrapped cases of Bud Ice you sent for all the wrestlers...which I stole from the communal fridge and *BRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUP* and finished off for everyone. Drink responsibly."

-Jerry held up the can and gave a shit eating eating smile, his free hand giving the presenting motion.-

"Bud Ice, goes down...smoooooo*cough*ooooth. Just like Mammy Jim, who told me her little boy was an ungrateful fucker right before she went down on *BRPRPRPRPRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUP!* deez! Now get yer' ass out here boy...I gotta earn that half and half!""

"Who keeps letting Jerry Nate show up in worse shape than Jeff Hardy all the time? Get someone out there to shut him up..."

"I'mma kick yer' ass too, Jimmy!"

TBCB: Big Jim.

[Cletus & Big Jim]

The coughing muffler of a 1982 GMC C1500 Half-ton two-wheel-drive drowns out the last of Jerry's drunken epithets. He turns in time to see the rusty truck pass by and catch a four-foot stick of rock maple between the eyes, tossed off the bed by none other than Big Jim himself. Jerry falls arse over tea kettle, spilling his beer on the way down.

And Big Jim has hit the scene with a vengeance!

Two of the most in-bred men in wrestling...yuck! I might as well leave now.

As Jim continues to rain blows on the supine form of his old foe, a very old man hobbles from the driver's side and onto the pavement. He shuffles over toward the action gingerly, and suddenly removes his belt. With a strength that belies his age, he begins lashing Jerry Nate!

You son-of-a-whore! You fucked my wife!

Is that?

It couldn't be anyone else JP, the much ugly has be genetic.

Pappy Jim!!!

You don't rub another man's rhubarb Jerry!

The flogging is breif as Pappy is winded and soon staggers toward the truck, waving his hand and mumbling something about the village merry-go-round before and driving away. As the cloud of exhaust dissipates, a referee arrives to oversee the action.

Looks like this one is underway!

TBCB-Jerry

[Jaggeroth/Jerry/Grimey]

-The rambling Redneck swore from the other end of Jim's fist, taking the blows from the troubled Lumberjack with all the pride befitting of a classy, town drunk. The Perverse Pulper seemed to have some tears stinging his eyes, though he would probably just say it was the adrenaline. Two palms stroked across Jerry's throat as if he were Big Jim's naughty lizard and squeezed the life out of Jerry. Jim's usual solo adventure posture, now with the added benefit of a Jerry Nate, committed the cardinal sin of thrashing it all around, banging the end into things as Jerry's cranium bonked against the pavement. Jerry could only look on wide eyed as Big Jim let out his pent up mommy issues on one of her customer's, gasping for enough air to survive the extra seconds it'll take him to puke once Big Jim is done.-

"Look! I wish I brought popcorn! These chuckle-headed hicks are going to beat each other senseless for the honor of being the last hillbilly standing!"

"What my esteemed colleague is trying to say is, Big Jim and Jerry Nate have a storied past with one another. In GHW, these two men have ripped into each other a few times, and the results were always bloody, with neither man seeming to hold an advantage over the other."

"Yeah, they're a couple of real dummies alright!"

-As Jim let his mommy issues go, Jerry crawled away in a gasp before doubling over the side of the parking lot's concrete wall and erupting a life time supply of Bud Ice and mcnuggets over an unsuspecting crowd of people waiting for their bus. As Jerry turned back to confront the rest of the Peeler's issues, he glanced the sight of a rampaging moose fucker with nasty intentions. Leaning over, the Shotgun Kid prepared for the blow and countered with the calf strength of a corn husker to send his Perverse opponent over the top of the wall and bursting through the roof of the bus stop below.-

"Beaver delivery!"

"Oh man, that's city property...we're going to get nailed for this one."

"Do you think they'll send the police to cuff us?"

"...I hope they take you to jail. Federal jail. You'll have fun there."

-Jerry Nate straddled over the barrier wall between the parking lot and the side walk, looking six feet down on Big Jim's carcass. "Hey, buddy...you doing ok down there?... you need a sooooooda?" Drunken cackles that from a joke only Jerry Nate would find funny followed the Lumberjack down to his resting spot of caved in metal sheeting. People ran away from the street brawl with cell phones in hand to catch the action as Jerry rolled his Canadian counterpart to the sidewalk. A bus had come by and made its usual stop as Jerry was lifting the Pulper up for something dastardly, the driver looking on as people got out to witness the carnage, Simple Cletus being one of them. The Shotgun Kid was pushed away from Cletus' wood spliter in crime before an axe handle was placed in his hand. "Teach that bastard not to touch our women folk, Big Jim!" Jerry ran away from the situation, running purposely into a group of greasers and taking one down before emptying the man's pockets. As the LumberJack came up, axe handle beating into his palm with a grisly sized grin. As Jim entered flaying distance, Jerry popped up onto his knee and held up what looked like a switch blade towards the Pulper and flicking it open, but all that came out was a plastic comb. Jerry Nate and Big Jim locked eyes for a moment, both sporting different looks at the situation before Jerry's face soured. "I stroked your Old Man's rhubarb..." The axe handle blisted between the eyes of the Satisfying One, knocking Jerry Nate out cold against the concrete with a bleeding forehead. His lifeless corpse being kicked over before the Lumberjack sprawled overtop of him.-

"1....2.....3!"

"He got it! Big Jim just scored the first pin in under five minutes! This is unprecidented!"

"Horary..now these two can come inside and mess up the backstage area, and destroy the crafts table in the process, like usual...yaaay..."

-The two Lumberjacks each took an ankle, dragging their kill towards the front entrance of the solid core gymnasium and into the building. As Jerry Nate woke up, his hazy vision made out their appearance.-

"Why can I hear banjos?"
-TBCB: Big Jim.

[Cletus & Big Jim]

You ever had your balls cut off you fucking ape?

You gonna do some prayin' for me, boy. And you better pray good.

Them panties. Take 'em off.

“No Uncle Don! No! Noooooooooooooooooooo!” Jerry Nate screams as visions of his last family reunion dissipate from before his eyes. His concussed brain concocts all manner of enigmatic hallucinations as he is drawn, semi-conscious, through the bowls of the arena toward the bloodthirsty throng among whom the second fall will take place.

He’s gone soft in the head Jimmy….

Happens to the best of us Cletus…

Jim hangs his head in shame

Likely picked up the syphilis from Mama, it’s what killed her in the end.

That’s right too, she’s dead. I ain’t too smart Jimmy, but how you figure he poked her?

Well Cletus, I heard some girlie in the back, the green-haired one I fought here the other night, well she said Jerry was a dead fuck. I guess that’s what she meant.

Having satisfied his partner’s curiosity, Jim notices that Jerry is a touch more lucid than he would prefer. After signalling his fellow chopper, both men begin to put the boots to the Satisfying One. Getting the Nebraskan onto rubber legs, Jim decides to club him once more with the bare axe handle. Yet, as the twisted timber slayer swings wildly, Jerry collapses and the solid ash handle collides with Cletus’ cranium. His eyes cross and he’s done like dinner. His emotions running high after that crack about his mom, Jim shows uncharacteristic concern for his downed chum. With this, and finding his opposition’s back turned, Jerry beats a hasty retreat further down the hallway toward the cheering crowds.

I think those Canadians just proved that they are not only the ugliest guys in this match, but they’re also the least coordinated.

A big mistake there by Jim, but he’s making an even bigger one now, letting Jerry get away.

Look at Jerry, even covered in his own vomit he still looks better than both the Logging Crew put together.

Big Jim pulls away from Cletus, there’s no helping him at this point; either he’ll come out of it or he won’t. His skin starts to thicken as he realizes what’s on the line and that he’s allowed his quarry to escape. He begins the hunt, walking slowly down the empty hallway, vacant no doubt in anticipation of the battle about to occur. He raps on a few doors, which swing lazily open to reveal no one, or no one worth worrying about. Finally, he comes to the right one, and The Shotgun Kid busts forth brandishing an iron, which he presses into Jim’s chest with a skin-scalding hiss. The wounded woodsman gives a whoop of pain and bats his assailant away, but hasn’t gone a step before the iron his plunged into his back. Trotting away, Jim gets the appliance thrown into his back and he stumbles to the floor. The Pride of O-town is hot in pursuit however, and finding an abandoned janitor’s mop & bucket nearby, he clubs his adversary with the sopping sponge and drags Jim toward the container. Jim howls mightily, perhaps at the thought of being cleaned, or maybe on account of his burns. Either way, his head is thrust beneath the tepid water as Mr. Fuckin' Satisfying makes every effort to drown him into submission. For all his flailing, Jim cannot free himself and slowly his body wilts as his aching lungs force him to breath. Jerry throws the doused lumberjack to the floor and goes for the pin. Though not technically in the audience yet, the referee, who’s been following all of this from a safe distance, dispenses with the niggling details and sets about to count. Just a hair shy of three Jim explodes up, rolling to his side and retching water as he does. Fed up and looking to even the score, Jerry halls along the water-logged woodsman, all the while berating him with lurid tales of acts inflicted on the rustic’s mother and those about to be perpetrated on her son. Jim only gurgles in reply, a low sound from the depths of his gullet. At last Jerry reaches his goal; through the curtain and out into the plain sight of the remorseless masses. Hurling Jim over the barricade and following shortly after, Jerry is mobbed by his faithful. Cutting through them as best he can, he finds Jim on his feet. Blocking a feral right hand, he replies with a kick to the gut. He then stands behind the birler and puts his head under Jim’s arm. Jerry then lifts the logger up; one arm around the waist and another under the legs. The renegade red-neck then spins Jim around 180°, dropping him to the cold concrete and allowing his head to smack violently against it.

Oooo, did you hear that?

Kinda sounded a little hollow to me JP.

Blue Thunder Bomb and Jim is out. I think we’ll see Jerry knot things up right here.

I’m not so sure, look at all these folks, they love Nate. I don’t understand it, but I think we’re about to see some action in the stands.

Forced to scorn a pinfall, Jerry is washed over with the love and lust of his fans. Beer flows like wine, as a pre-emptive celebration commences in the bleachers. Soon, drawn by their keen sense of impending stardom, the rats congregate around the once and future King of the Deathmatch. His hands made their way over one’s back as they kissed deeply. She closed her eyes and responded with a soft breath. Entranced, the entire magnitude seems drawn to this singular event, like moths to a flame. All save Big Jim, who lay, somewhat mired in refuse, totally oblivious to the outside world. She rubbed her hands through his coarse hair. His hand massaged her flawless milk white skin, a slight moan came from deep in her throat. She whispered his name as his hand touched her most tender area. With her hand she pulled forcefully at his waistband, and without saying any words he gently positioned her.

Oh God, if the city doesn’t get us, the parents groups will! This is supposed to be wrestling!

Look at her, her technique’s all wrong. Has she done this before?

Are you serious? I can’t get a decent call out you all night, except to tell me how everyone looks, but you’re going to provide colour commentary on Jerry Nate and some bimbo in the stands?

I can’t help it, this is shameful. Fellatio is an art and she’s denigrating it with this amateur hour nonsense.

Yet before she can take in the smoke of his satisfying stogie, her own pleasure centres are mauled by the perverse pulp peeler, who locks in a vaginal claw, forcing the young ring rat to clamp her jaws, much to Jerry’s chagrin.

Jesus! Did he just?

He did Ray…

He used a ring rat as a weapon!

What can I say, Jim’s got big problems.

As the nasty Nebraskan nurtures his gnawed knob, Jim makes a break toward the ring, with the dying hope of freeing himself from the very biased crowd. Jerry, incensed that the Sou’West Savage has interrupted his carnal satisfaction for the second time in months, chases after him, picking up momentum as he barrels toward him. Jim looks back just a second too late and ends up getting clocked with the Shotgun Punch. Three seconds later we’re even Steven in the shadow of the squared circle decked in barbed wire & explosives.

TBCB-Jerry

[Jaggeroth/Jerry/Grimey]

-The Shotgun Kid stood in the center of the ring, his legs unsure as his palms rubbed himself gingery, much to the dismay of all the ring rats. Big Jim was still holding his chest, praying to baby Jesus it didn't collapse under the Redneck Hero's bowel rendering fist. The Sou'West Savage was given the boots, medium style, before his lungs could correct the dry heaves. "You dick! I wouldn't stop Cleatus if he was burying his chin in your ballz!" Jerry was pissed beyond any formal sense that his night was ruined no matter who won this contest now, and that in public blowjob would have been awesome right about now.-

"We have reached the final stage of hell tonight, ladies and gentlemen. This bout is now one and one, and the winner will be decided inside a ring, the ropes replaced with barbed wire, and entangled inside that barbed wire is concussion charges."

"I just hope they take one another out, this federation could use the two open spots for some nicer looking combatants."

"You're right, EVPW is a total sausage party right now."

"Damn you, Jimmy...damn you to hell."


-Talking about hell, Jerry Nate turned his gaze in a complete circle while the fans prepared their eyes for the oncoming horrors that awaited the men inside their new battle ground. The Pulper was brought up to his feet to face his enraged opponent, the dark smile from their first clashes returning across his blackened eyes. "Let's turn this ring into your grave~" Big Jim could barely contain the gasp before Jerry had him in the air with legs spread in an atomic drop position, only instead of Jerry's knee cap as the potential landing spot, a twisted bundle of barbed wire strands were awaiting Jim's scrotum. With time running out to save his "Pulp Hook" for another battle with Cleatus' fist, but a miracle came through as Jim's Canadian ass slipped off the side of Jerry's shoulder, taking the top half of the Shotgun Kid with him. Flesh challenged steel while Jim slipped to the safety mats below, Jerry's barrel chest ripping new holes in his favorite Slayer T-shirt. Pride couldn't save the O-Town resident as his arms crossed over his impaled chest, groaning as sailors all across the land blushed from his potty mouth. The holes already starting to dribble his bright red life force as he tore the shirt away, Hulk Hogan style as Big Jim looked on from outside the ring.-

"First blood goes to Big Jim! Jerry's skin has tasted the unsavory flavor of ripped flesh, and he does not look too pleased about it."

"Yeah, Big Jim saved himself and all the retarded butt babies he could have had with Cleatus...the welfare department thanks him."

"You're just mad because the state won't let you have any babies."

"...That's twice I will damn you to hell tonight, Jimmy."

-The wounds over Jerry's chest were beaten with his own fists as cries for vengeance belted out through the night air, ringing like a bell for justice. Big Jim came to silence the bell, adding his own chops to the chest to turn the ringing down to a barely audible gasp above the echoing slaps. The blood across the back of Big Jim's forearm was proof of a job well done as Jerry tried to back away, only to receive a thrusting boot into the metal laden corner. Eyes popped from the Redneck's skull before the growl of insufferable pain rose in tune, but before Jerry could reach D flat, Jim delivered a package of momentum and weight. Soles were introduced to Jerry's belly, forcing him back further onto to the spike laden wire and giving enough pressure for the concussion charge that was entangled in the wire to give in. A large puff of white followed the bang, engulfing the Satisfyin' One's back as he hit his knees with clenched fists and face. Jerry laid there like his usual dates, twitching his fists with a cry of agony as smoke lifted off his back.-

"Big Jim knows what it takes to put the Redneck Hero of EVPW down, and he's not going to let off for even a second."

"I know what could put Jerry Nate down for a good nap~"

"A fifth of wild turkey and a ring rat, yes I know."

"....party pooper."

-The howls of raging RedNeck fills the air, Big Jim barely noticing as he was busy trying to undo a concussion charge from the ropes. As he pulled the charge out with the look of a happy raccoon with fresh garbage on his face, the Savage had a sudden burst of blurry, smokey justice slash across his forehead. The bare elbow sliced between Jim's mysterious eyes, leaving enough blood to give the Satisfyin' One the chance he needed. The legs of the Lumberjack were spread wide open with a concussion charge placed in between. The fans immediately began to go ape shit whilst a glorious, bowel rendering fist that could pierce the EVPW universe itself was raised with magnificent form. "POOOOOOOOWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAA WAAAAVE!" Jerry's hips popped it and locked it with a half rotation, his fist flowing down with awe inspiring authority against the charge resting on Big Jim's little Jim. The crack of black powder sent off waves of ball busting concussion waves, destroying any chance of Cletus spawning Big Jim's butt babies tonight.-

"Yes! The gene pool is saved!"

"Quiet down, we all know you wanted to hunker down on a Big Jimmy."

"You're looking pretty big...Jimmy..."

"You shut your cock lovin' mouth..."

-The Shotgun Kid fell down beside his spasming opponent, his fist a tad bit smokey as he giggled in the Lumberjack's face, cocking off and being a general asshole.-

"I've missed kicking your ass, Jim Bo. It's like you're my batman...you just complete me...Hahahahahahaha!"

tbcb: Big Jim. (Most of this rp was down under the influence of prescription cough medication)

[Cletus & Big Jim]

A wounded whoop fills the arena and at length, Big Jim inspects his wienie n’ beans, but scowls and shrinks away from the terrible sight south of the border. As Jerry Nate continues his syphilitic braying, Jim ponders his future in the briefest of instants. Though rumours of his homoerotic relationship with Cletus abound in the minds of many, he’s certain that the greatest disappointment resulting from the mangling of his genitals will be etched on the face of a certain cow moose; her whine a haunting reminder of his failure as a man. Right now though, the only mounting being done is by Jerry Nate, as he rolls atop his old foe and begins to rain blows down upon him. Jim’s already hard features are further disfigured by the blows of the former King, who aims to pummel this usurper into oblivion. Thinking quickly, the beast of Black Rapids slips one foot in front of his opponent's head and under his chin, locks his hands behind Jerry's head, and chokes him. The referee asks Nate if he wants to call it quits, and one can only guess that the muffled and choking reply is something altogether disgusting. Jerry struggles for a moment and then lifts Jim up about six inches before being forced to lower him by his waning strength. The Sou’West Savage will not be denied however, and uses his free foot to push up on his choking foot to increase pressure on the trachea. Jerry wilts, but before the man in stripes can call a halt to the match, the lumberman releases him.

My God, he’s still at it! Even with his scrotum hideously mangled, Jim’s still fighting.

I know, when a guy like you gets his dick blown, you’ll be out for the rest of the day!

…screw you…

Only in your dreams Ray; but seriously, Jim made a mistake there, turning him loose when he had the match won.

With Jerry downed, Jim aims at vengeance, though his movements are ginger as every effort sends agony through his concussed lower body. Sliding out under the strands of barbed wire, Jim rifles under the ring before holding an ominous green bottle high into the air. A bellow from the cheapest of the cheap seats, the only folks in the building who recognize the brew as Hermit’s wine, is plainly heard and spurs the twisted timber slayer onward. Emboldened, Jim re-enters the ring and, after taking a hefty swig, spits a stream of the ruddy brown liquid into Jerry’s face. The mixture of alcohol and industrial waste burns the Satisfying One’s face, only seconds before the perverse pulp peeler ignites it with his signature fireball. Jerry stumbles back, his face engulfed in a sizzling blue flame. He runs into the wire, but before he can recoil from this new discomfort, Jim lunges and wraps his arms around his adversaries head and pulls it down over the strands, all the while rending his own arms in the process. All this flailing sets off another charge and both men fall to the canvas in the wake of the blast.

Both guys down, I doubt either of these guys are going to be ready for the KotDM title defence that’s already been scheduled for Decimation this coming week.

Yes, as much as I want to see these two CHUDs kill one another off, I’ll bet the #1 contender is hoping for it even more.

Astonishingly it is the Nebraskan that reaches his feet first, as Big Jim is yet unmanned and this last flurry has reminded him of that fact. The skin baked tight across Jerry’s face stretches into an evil grin, streaked in blood. He splits the legs, and drops a head-butt on the remnants of Jim’s privy parts. Sighting the abandoned Hermit’s, he chances a dram, but finds it coarser than his cherished Bud Ice. With distain and maleficent intentions, he breaks the bottle on the ring post and twists the shard clinging to the bottle-neck into the already scarred face of the woodsman. A collective gasp sucks the wind from the gymnasium and the silence is filled only with the exchange of epithets between the combatants. Jim’s mother is called everything but a woman, Jerry’s is said to prostitute herself for negligible sums of money. Jim is compared unfavourably with all manner of bodily waste and Jerry is purported to have engaged in all sorts of demeaning sexual actions, so base that either man’s aforementioned mother would refuse it vehemently, regardless of the amount of cash offered. With an impressive show of strength, the Pride of O-Town lifts Jim up and, about to suplex him, drops him stomach-first across the wire. Letting his opponent hang, weighing down the serrated steel cutting into the soft flesh of his abdomen; Jerry steps to the apron and pulls the champion to his feet. From a front facelock, Jerry lifts Jim up as if he was executing a vertical suplex. He then falls onto the apron driving the Canadian’s head into the ring frame with a dull thud.

Brainbuster!

Not much in there to bust JP.

Maybe not, but after all he’s been through this might be it for the man from the Black Rapids.

The king is dead, long live the king…but not really. I look forward to Jerry losing that belt to someone who deserves it.

You mean someone with a million-dollar body?

You know me too well…

Lifeless on the apron, Jim is brought back into the ring and laid out for the pin. The referee counts him down, but before the final three lands, Jim grabs the barbed wire instinctively. Acting equally on impulse, the official stops the count, prompting a vicious glare and a few choice words from the Shotgun Kid. Deciding to end his once and for all, he exits and fetches a set of cutters that look like they belong in the Great Escape. With them, the cuts away a section of wire and the explosive nestled within. He places the mass of twisted metal and gunpowder in the centre of the action, and drags the limp Big Jim to his feet and sets up for a piledriver. With the logger vertically inverted, Jerry adds insult to injury by attempting a cradle, but Jim shifts his weight and manages to plant his feet again. His head still resting beneath Jerry’s blue balls, Jim hoists himself to verticality, grabbing hold of Jerry around the legs, lifting his opponent upside down facing the birler's back. Positioning himself over the charge and tangled wire, he ignores the frantic kicking of the ex-King; it never helped the old cow so it damn sure won’t aid this little calf. The Hermit’s Hangover drives Jerry’s head into the charge with an ear-numbing detonation, and Jim too feels the pain surge through his legs and the trunk of his body. Only when Jerry makes a low whine of his own does Jim feel a slight arousal where his pulp hook used to be….

TBC