Firecracker Red

Jonny Firestorm vs Nick Naughton, Ringwars 25 (BG East)

Catalog 112 uncorks an early match of Jonny's and Nick's. I'm not sure why BG East makes us wait for matches like this one, which fits neatly into the company's ethos, especially within the Firestorm saga. It's a David and Goliath showdown that holds no surprises for fans who have followed Jonny's career from the start, but it's in every other way a ripsnorter.  With six inches and sixty pounds over our Jonny, Nick, who debuted eleven ring-wars ago, is gelled, tatted, tanned, and pierced, stretching out his blue trunks till they squeak. He is one magnificent slab of modern manhood.

When Nick sneers and rolls his eyes as Jonny crawls through the ropes, I'm reminded of my answer to friends who gripe about characters in horror movies who unfailingly trespass into the forbidden locked room, investigate the strange crying-baby noises by themselves in the dark, in short, make decisions that spell their certain doom. To that peevish complaint, I always say, "But, hey, unlike us they don't know they're in a horror movie." Likewise, Naughton can't know he's dinner for that barracuda called Jonny. Let's see that sneer once Jonny's done with you, eh, pal?

Things fall apart for Nick as soon as he opens with a sneak attack on Firestorm. The smaller guy grabs Nick's forearm and rolls it up tight against his backbone. Naughton reverses with a triumphant a-ha! Jonny has only 20 seconds to snapmare him to the mat and pull him back up in a side headlock. Being big has advantages, but they can be counted in the four flying body smashes it takes a inexhaustibly determined Firestorm to knock Nick on his butt. 

Sure, Nick takes command soon after, chiming "Not so tough now" every time he makes Jonny moan. In fact, he delivers up a fine long beating, which Firestorm sells with every ounce of himself. But six minutes later, Jonny is boss again, and he stays in charge (except for one boner-inducing hope spot, during which Nick traps the little guy between his cast-iron thighs) all the way to the end of the 33-minute match, bending and stretching and twisting Naughton like the balloon man at a children's party. And, of course, I probably wouldn't be crowing about this match unless it ended with a knockout--and it's a beauty: a naked choke and body scissors combination.


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