PHIL ATKEN vs. PETE WHEALDON
At the commentary table, Richard guzzles down the last of his beer.
Richard Parker: (belches) …what? It’s not like I’m just gonna let it go to waste!
Nick Stuart: If you’re finished… let’s move on to our penultimate matchup for tonight! It’s a crossing of paths between two tried and tested veterans of the ring, when “Magnum” Pete Whealdon will go toe to toe with Phil Atken of the Glue Factory!
Richard Parker: Well Pete Whealdon may not be any spring chicken, but maybe it’s too soon for a new line of “Magnum Glue”? I bet there’s still plenty of mileage left in the guy!
Nick Stuart: That may be the case, Phil Atken is looking to continue his steadily building momentum leading up to his inevitable showdown with the PRIME veteran, Dusk! Whealdon, for his part, is looking to bounce back after being handed an upset at the last show by GREAT SCOTT! So without further adieu, let’s take it to Vince Howard standing by in the ring!
Fade to the ring, where we see the ring announcer smiling warmly to the camera.
Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall!
“(I Want to be The One) To Watch You Die” by The Megas begins to boom all over the sound system, heralding the arrival of The Proprietor of The Glue Factory himself, Philip Martin Atken. The veteran athlete steps out and heads directly to the centre of the entrance way, not paying much mind to the reaction of the crowd at the MGM Grand. Atken is quickly joined at his side by his Chief of Security, the seven foot monster known as Hank. The tandem begin their march towards to the ring with clear purpose and clarity of mind.
Vince Howard: Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by HANK… he hails all the way from Glasgow, Scotland, and weighs in at two-hundred and twenty-five pounds… the HUMBLE PROPRIETOR of the GLUE FACTORY… PHIIIIIIIIILLL AAAAAATKEEENNN!!!
Upon reaching the ring, Atken leaps up on top of the apron and the camera catches him gives a small little self satisfied smirk to himself as he wipes his boots on the edge of the canvas. Chief of Security Hank holds open the ring ropes and allows his boss to enter the ring. Hank takes his place in the corner of the ring as Atken gladly welcome the referee to check him for any contraband items.
Angular guitars and a brick head of a kick drum begin to strobe as Joe Talbot starts ranting about creatine and a bag of Charlie Sheen. The Thumping Bass line of “Never Fight a Man with a Perm” brings Pete Whealdon out from behind the curtain. Hair done up slick, wearing aviator sunglasses, he has his hands in the pockets of his Members only Jacket. He strides down towards the ring, Green kick-padded Boots slamming confidently into the ground.
“Never fight a man with a perm!”
Vince Howard: And the opponent, from Los Angeles, California, and weighing in at two-hundred and twenty-seven pounds… “MAGNUM”… PETE… WHEEEAAALDOOON!!!
Whealdon slides under the bottom rope as the song starts breaking down into tremelo’d chaos. He moves to his corner and starts removing his excess gear, revealing green floral print tights.
Nick Stuart: Based on the tale of the tape, both of these competitors are almost the same in terms of height and weight, but there’s at least twenty years separating them!
Official Ashley Barlow makes her final checks and gives the cue to the timekeeper to begin the match.
DING DING
Both competitors are slow to come out of their corners, casually approaching each other until Atken and Whealdon are face to face. Words are exchanged. Whealdon smirks, turns away… and NEARLY takes Atken’s head off when he suddenly comes twirling around!
Nick Stuart: WHOA! Pete Whealdon thought he could end this early by taking the Humble Proprietor’s head clean off his shoulders with a HAYMAKER out of nowhere, but Atken DODGES and puts that arm into an armbar!
Richard Parker: This crafty old goat is still sharp enough to show the kids in this place what for! Age ain’t nothin’ but a number, baby!
Nick Stuart: …please don’t say that on the air again.
Richard Parker: Sorry, I think that beer they gave me was a Double IPA or somethin’…
Atken mugs to the crowd as he cinches the hold and tries to force Whealdon onto a knee, but Pete instead slips free and goes behind with a rear waistlock. Whealdon attempts to take him down, but Phil beats him to the punch by bending over, hooking the leg, and sweeping him to the mat.
Off the reversal, Atken goes for the Figure Four, but Pete puts a boot right into his posterior and kicks him away! The Humble Proprietor rebalances and turns around into a running elbow from Whealdon that knocks him to the mat! As Atken pushes himself to his feet, Pete returns to the rear waistlock, this time succeeds in following through with the German Suplex, bridging into a pin!
ONE!
TWO!
NO!
Atken rolls his way out of the pin, and catches Whealdon with a Jawbreaker to counter! Whealdon clutches his mouth as he staggers back but doesn’t go down. Rubbing the soreness out of his jaw, he comes charging back with renewed anger, but runs right into a drop toe hold by the waiting Atken. Phil pounces on him, slapping on a side headlock.
Nick Stuart: The action has been back and forth thus far, but Phil Atken is looking to lock things down as he works the head of Pete Whealdon!
Richard Parker: That’s some sound logic on the part of Phil Atken, slowing down the pace of this match! When you’ve lived enough years, you learn that there’s no reason to rush things, and sometimes it pays to take your time!
Nick Stuart: Are you sure it’s not just because it’s easier for you to pay attention when things aren’t moving quite so fast?
Richard Parker: Hey now! I’m in no condition to be operating heavy equipment right now…
Atken wrenches on Whealdon’s head for several moments, trying to slowly grind him to his knees. Whealdon doesn’t make it easy, staying on his feet while pushing and bulling the adhesive aficionado around in a circle. The struggle takes him into the ropes, where Pete finally pushes him off.
Whealdon gets loose, and Phil Atken goes into motion. Pete goes after him. Atken, off the ropes, runs straight into BRICK WALL by way of a charging headbutt by Pete Whealdon!
Richard Parker: So much for taking things at a nice, leisurely pace…
Nick Stuart: Here comes Whealdon to press his advantage–NO, ATKEN with the SMALL PACKAGE!
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Whealdon scrambles to his feet first and soccer kicks Atken in the sternum to keep him down, before further punishing him with aggressive stomps to the limbs. Atken rolls his way to the ropes for some reprieve, but Pete pulls him back off the mat, leads him by the head into a facelock, and lifts…
Nick Stuart: IMPLANT DDT!
ONE!
TWO!
THR–NO!!
Nick Stuart: Atken gets the shoulder up, but he looks shaken up off of that DDT!
Richard Parker: Bahh, I’ve seen Phil take harder shots of Scotch at the end of the night!
Nick Stuart: That’s it, give me your keys…
Whealdon has Atken by the hair as he hauls the Humble Proprietor back to his feet, peppering the side of his head with elbow strikes until he dumps him into the corner. Pete drapes his arms over the top rope to expose the chest…
CHOP!
CHOP!
CHOP!
Richard Parker: HELP! POLICE! ELDERLY ABUSE!
Nick Stuart: Looks like those knife-edge chops are hitting a LOT harder than Scotch, Rich!
Atken’s face is in agony, and he comes to just in time to see Pete running straight at him, and decades of accumulated muscle memory snap into action as he dives to the side, and Pete Whealdon’s dropkick hits nothing but the turnbuckle pads! Atken capitalizes with a HARD kick to the head!
Atken’s agony is now smug confidence as he peels Whealdon off the mat and prepares him for the piledriver… but then Whealdon hooks him by the knees and jacknife rolls the Proprietor’s shoulders to the mat!
ONE!
TWO!
THR–KICKOUT!
They break apart. Atken tries to stay on him, but gets met with a sharp kick to the face. He reels into the ropes, taking a bounce to gain some speed, but then Whealdon suddenly springs up and ROCKS him with a high roundhouse kick that finds its mark on the side of his head!
Nick Stuart: OH MY! Whealdon is nearly DECAPITATED! Phil Atken with ON BEING A BASTARD!
Richard Parker: Oh man… have the tables really been turned on Phil Atken?
Nick Stuart: That would be an ironic twist of fate.
Richard Parker: Ironic? More like tragic! I don’t know if I’m ready to live in a world where a thing like “karma” may actually exist, Nick!
Atken wobbles on rubber legs, looking like he may fall over at any moment. A sadistic glint fills Pete’s eye as he goes into the spinning motion for the CHEERS, PRICKS!
But Atken DUCKS, and ends up behind him!
Nick Stuart: Phil Atken HAS HIM IN THE SHOTGUN!
Pete fights it. He pivots to throw Atken off. He rams himself back-first into a corner to sandwich him against the turnbuckles… but there’s no dice. The cagey Proprietor clinches in on the rear naked choke.
Nick Stuart: Whealdon can’t get him off!
Richard Parker: You could say he’s stuck to him… like GLUE?
Nick Stuart: If Phil takes him to the mat, this will be over!
Whealdon’s eyes begin to flutter. Phil kicks at the knee to cause it to buckle, and finally manages to take him to the mat, belly-up and turning blue. Barlow doesn’t think twice; she flags down the timekeeper and calls it.
DING DING DING
“(I Want to be the One) To Watch You Die” hits the PA. Atken keeps the held locked in for several more seconds until Ashley finally pries him off. Rolling Whealdon off of him, the Humble Proprietor of the Glue Factory rises off the mat with a smug grin on his face and his arms raised in triumph.
Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner, by submission… PHIIIIIIIIILLL AAAAAATKEEENNNNNN!!!
Nick Stuart: What a competitive battle we just witnessed, but ever crafty Phil Atken pulled through in the end
Richard Parker: I told you, Nick: age ain’t nothing but a number!
Nick Stuart: In the context of wrestling, that might be true, but PLEASE stop saying that! In any case, Pete Whealdon definitely showed he’s not someone who can easily be manhandled. But all Phil Atken needs is one good opportunity to put away even the best in the industry!
Atken reunites with Hank outside the ring as Barlow checks on Whealdon, still gasping for air.