If Eric Fury were any more solid hed have to be classified as a mineral. Spread out on the sofa, lazily sizing up BamBam, Eric looks like Adam spanning the Sistine Chapel ceiling, except that Adam could only dream of having a body like Furys. Meanwhile, BamBam goes through the paces of a vigorous workout stretches, warm-ups, even flipstrying to entice Eric to come after him on the mat. The lounging muscle god is not convinced that the eager BamBam is ready for the tons of whoopass those sumptuous biceps hold in store. Bring it to the mat, BamBam chimes, when Eric derisively calls him a clown. Youre a joke, dude, Fury taunts, but BamBam thinks Eric is muscle bound and useless, blown up like a Macys parade balloon, all looks and no action. BamBam starts singing another tune when Fury finally strides to the mat. In short order Eric thumps BamBam against the floor and hamstrings him in the worlds stiffest bodyscissors, combined with an armbar, which turns into a rear chinlock. Then he assaults BamBams left leg, wringing the ankle for all its worth. Deep, guttural, and hugely satisfying grunts and groans ensue. As Fury begins to tire, BamBam seeks an opening to even the score. He strikes Erics chest with an open palm and rolls him into a modified crab hold. But Fury is not so easily subdued. He strikes
his opponents crotch, growling, Eat this, bitch! The low blow only stokes BamBams determination to make the cheater suffer, this time in a crushing bearhug that almost drains the man of his last ounce of fight. Almost, we said so dont go cashing in your chips just yet! This fight is far from done, and its not over till the victor vanquishes his opponent with a sleeperhold so strenuous and devastating you will be able to feel the final gag catching in your throat.