When I was a kid I used to strip down to my underwear, stand on the back of the couch, and drop vicious elbows onto the couch cushions and pillows. The other day one of my sons walked up to me and challenged me to a fight. These so called fights are really more tussles and never come close to slobberknockers and defiantly never reach the statis of donnybrooks.
During this particular round I discovered there are no rules. I tried to explain to both Roland and Windsor the etiquette of pinning someone’s shoulders to the mat (bed) for a count of three, but they then informed me that the rules are they can’t lose. So no matter how many razor’s edges, attitude adjusters, F5s, Boston crabs, dominators, sky highs, angle slams, or Saskatchewan spinning arm drags I give to them I have no chance of ever securing a pinfall because they’re undefeatable or so they tell me.
Meanwhile it is open season on daddy. In order for daddy to be defeated they just have to hit daddy and say, “We defeated you,” or “You’re defeated,” and I don’t mind one bit. I’ll be a jobber for these two boys even if I am five times their size and should have a clear advantage, but we can break kayfabe for this.
After rounds of practicing elbow drops when I was a kid I would occasionally march up to my own father and challenge him to a fight. He much preferred headlocks to powerbombs so it was a far more technical endeavor but it had much of the same rules where daddy couldn’t win. Not because he wasn’t bigger or stronger or had more experience but because paragraph four clause seven clearly states daddies can never win.
Especially in the aftermath when the boys are running through the house like a herd of wild elephants ignoring the clear fact that it is bed time and demanding rematch after rematch.
David Huzzard Writes 