Mil Lesions.
Against. The Des Moines Dracula.
"frauds-count-anywhere match"
choke-slammed on two handfuls of thumbtacks, with the obligatory "hand to the hurt area" play, to "sell the gimmick". Mil was really selling it, too, and the fans started up "ALL NIGHT LONG! ALL NIGHT LONG!"
"Crap, dude! Mil just kilt Des Moines Drack!"
enter the pane of glass between the two tables, placed in the shadow of the bandstand
Drack splatters an electric guitar onto the head of Mil, who dramatically teeters on the edge of the bandstand, before falling expertly, backwards, through the pain of glass and onto the hard arena floor.
"The arena floor is the beating heart of Rome!" Just some peanuts and a sticky rime there, Falco, that and nothing more from which to conjure agricultural legislation and public works.
"DRACK JUST F*CKED MIL!"
They even back the ambulance down the entrance ramp, strap-up Mil, put him in the ambulance, as Drack theatrically tears open the back doors of the Bus and gets a few cheap shots on Big Mil.
Outside. The Ambulance stops.
The doors burst open, and out staggers Mil Lesions, ready for more.
JR: "Somebody stop this; that man's got a family! He's defying death itself!"
Kane Rose Up: Christogenesis and Taoist Indolence. Abaddon1215, the Futnuckery. The Tetramulleton. Le Solidaritot. Mikiavelli, crytpogenic dissipations. Triphammer. Der Gubermensch.
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