and everything. We was downto our last lettuce that night. I gets my bum by the ear, and I tellshim, I says, make it a good show. But don't take no chances--this iswinner take all, and we better not lose. Don't use your pretzel bendunlessen you have to.
This bum we rassle was a big miner, see?--hard as the rocks he jugglesaround in the daytime. He was stronger'n my bum, but he don't knownothing about rassling. My bum tried a step-over toehold on him, buthe knows how to kick. My bum goes through the ropes. He don't try thatno more.
They rassle around, and eight minutes later my bum takes first fallwith a body press after flattening the miner with a hard knee lift. Itold my bum to let him take the second fall, which he does. The bigminer gets a head scissors on him and like to moiders him before hecan submit.
Ray isn't liking it, and he takes the third one quick with a abominalstretch, which surprises the big guy and takes all the fight outa him.He didn't know they was holts like that, and he passes the word aroundthat my bum has plenty moxie. So we get only one more bout on theMoon--but outa the two we get enough scratch to take us to Venus.
Hoiman paused, trying hard to pour more beer out of the empty secondbottle. He licked his lips like they were real dry, and his beady eyesflicked a glance at me that came and went as fast as the tip of aswinging rapier. I signalled Sherry to bring two more bottles of beer.Hoiman relaxed, sighed, gazing almost affectionately at the new cropof french fries which had appeared suddenly in his clutching fist.
Sherry, still pouting, came with the beer, and ten seconds laterHoiman was talking again.
We did okay on Venus, (he said). Before long I have a regular littlecircuit woiked up in the three spaceports, and they is plenty bumsthere what think they can rassle. Some of them can--my bum has to usehis pretzel bend oftener and oftener. He's lucky, and he don't slipnone clamping it on--at first.
I have ta tell you about them Venusians. Them dustlanders, I mean.They got big flat wide feet for padding through the dust, and theirnoses are like a big spongy thing all over their puss, to filter thedust out. So they got no expression on their pans. A guy like me,which has got a real expressive face, could get the willies justlooking at them. And their eyes--round and flat, big as silverdollars.
Them dustlanders was nuts about rassling. They flock to the rasslingshows and buy good seats. They don't do no hollering and waving likepeople do. Just sit there, staring out of them big flat eyes andmaking funny _chuffing_ noises at each other when some bum would get agood hold on the other.
My bum didn't pay them no never mind at foist, but one day he tells mehe keeps feeling them eyes on him while he's rasslin'. I give him theold razz--but that night he tries for his pretzel bend, and misses.The other bum is young and fast, and my bum gets trun, but good!
So this happens a few more times, and my bum says we gotta move on--hecan't rassle no more with them dustlanders staring at him and_chuffing_ about him.
Some of them ear benders on Venus are studying up on the side, anyhow,and the outlook for my bum ain't so good no more nohow. So we go toMars.
I signalled Sherry for my coffee, as Hoiman ground to a stop while herefilled his glass. I swear my eyes weren't away from the table formore than a half second, but in that moment all the french fries leftmy plate. I yielded to Fate--it wasn't meant to be that I eat frenchfries this pay day.
Things are primitive like on Mars, (Hoiman was saying), on accountathe troubles they have with power there. We rassled under some funnyset-ups, but that's okay with me as long as my bum tosses his man.
This time they ain't none of them screwy Venusians to put the whammyon him, and he's doing okay. Until--I gotta admit it--I get deluges ofgrandeur, or something.
I gotta tell ya about them Martians. They are about seven feet tall,not too heavy, but they got plenty moxie. And an extra pair of arms,so I get to thinking they oughta be terrific in the ring. Just so theyain't _too_ terrific.
I ask my bum, I says to him, I says, could he, does he think, trun oneof them Martians? He says iffen he has to he'll use his pretzel bend,and they ain't no Martian on six legs, or eight, what won't say uncle.
So I check with the Colony Administrator, and he says it's okay for amatch perviding we don't interfere with any of their beliefs orcustoms or conventions. I ast him what were they, and he told me theMartians never talked about them, so we'd just have to be careful.
What the hell, I says to my bum. A bout's a bout. So I startpromoting. First I find out do them Martians have a bum what wants torassle my bum, winner take all--which is the way we like to rassle,when I know my bum can trun the other bum. Natch.
I don't mean we talk to the Martians--I don't savvy them squeaks theyuse on each other. We hire an interpreter--we have to take his wordfor it that everything is woiking out.
So the night of the match comes around and them Martians insist onhaving it in their own town, Meekweek it sounds like, near as I cansay it in people talk. Remember I told you it was primitive? You neverseen nothing like this. They don't live with people by the way. Theylive off by theirselves in their own town.
The ring and mat and ropes are okay--not regulation, but nothing tosquawk about. Them lights was what get me. The Martians got no power,so they make a deal with some insecks. Cross my heart--'sa fack. Younever see such insecks. Round, big as a dinner plate, flat on top,rounded off on the bottom. They stay up in the air by spinning like awheel--just like them flying saucers the Rigellians was spying on usin the fifties. You wouldn't remember about that.
At night the bottom part of them insecks lights up like a big electricbulb, almost as bright, too. They was enough of them _zinging_ aroundover the ring to make it look like it was floodlighted. My bum saysthey remind him of them dish-eyed Venusians, but I quick change thesubjeck. That shoulda tipped me off--shoulda give me a freemonitionthat the party was gonna get rough. If I'da known how rough, we'dastood in town.
The Martian bum is a big mug, and those four arms of his look mightyplural. I quick tells my bum, I says to him, I says, watch out for armlocks and leg strangles. If that overgrowed spider ever gets one onyou he'll double keylock it!
* * * * *
The two bums go in the ring, and get their instructions. Mostly theref makes motions. The Martian nods his head like he understands fine.When the ref is telling them about trunnin' each other outen the ring,the Martian makes a motion like can he trun his man up in the rafters?
The ref shakes his head no, and that seems to satisfy the Martian. Thetimekeeper blows a whistle, and things start to moving. That MartianMangler puts down his two middle limbs, uses them like legs, and isacross the ring and swarming all over my bum while he is still takinghis foist step.
Before you know it the ref is counting one, two, three, and my bum istrun for the foist fall. The Martian is using his middle limbs likearms, and he has a hammerlock and an arm strangle both on my bum--andboth of them keylocked!
The ref gets them untangled, and I quick tell my bum we ain't hurtuntil we get trun twict. So I tell him how to get that next fall--tokeep away from them four arms and keep circling until he gets a chanceto clamp on the pretzel bend.
The whistle blows, and this time my bum uses my head. When the MartianMangler gallops over to his corner, my bum has went through the ropesand quick runs around on the apron to the other side and comes at theMartian from behind before the goof knows what's happening.
He lets the Martian have a rabbit punch, then a forearm smash, then aknee to his stomach. The Martian leans over, kinda sick, maybe, andgets a knee lift to the smoosh. This softens him up good, and my bumclamps the pretzel bend on him. That Martian squirms like an octopus,with arms and legs flying in all directions. And you coulda knocked meover with a subpoena when he got out of it!
Your guess is as good as mine, how he done it. But my bum is movingfast, and he gives him some more knee lifts and a drop kick or two,and then a hair mare, and he falls on him for a body press and getsthe count.
Each bum has got a fall.
You shoulda heard them Martians theresqueaking this time--ten times as loud as when their bum won the foistfall. But they had no squawks. These flying chandeliers they had, theykinda bunched up to follow the action, and the light was good so theref couldn't make no mistake about it.
That Martian squirming out of the pretzel bend don't look so good, soI tell my bum not to use it for the thoid fall. I tell him to give theMartian some more of them knee lifts--he don't get along with them atall. I tell him to folly that up with a airplane spin and a body slam.
My bum follys instructions to the alphabet, and that is just whathappens. He bangs that Martian around with elbow smashes and kneelifts till he don't know is he on one leg or six. Then he goes in fastand grabs him by a coupla legs and arms, holds him up in the air, andspins him like a pinwheel.
Right away I knowed something was in the air besides that MartianMangler. Oi!
Hoiman and the Solar Circuit Page 2