Upon the Death of Folksyle

[ILLINIWrestlingBlog]

 

You walk past a dark alley in Chicago and hear a voice, "Hey, buddy, want some Folkstyle?"

 

You know you shouldn't.

 

You start shaking. It's been two weeks since you scored a riding time point. You need to score bad. You haven't been able to focus at work. It's getting hard to sleep at night. And when you do catch a few zzz's there are the nightmares, nightmares about half-nelsons and claw rides.

 

You give in.

 

It shouldn't have to be this way. We gave up arm bars and granby rolls for whatever that thing is when the other guy grabs both of your legs and laces them together and then thrashes around like an alligator on a wildebeest. Those are back points? **** you! But you know the deal, the reality is that Folkstyle's gone. Gone forever. Except here in dark alleys in Chicago, in small-town Pennsylvania, and in Iowa City.

 

You step into the alley.

 

You smell the sweat of a thousand riding time points, and your adrenaline goes through the ******* roof! Your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, and you see Lucas Byrd, Dylan Palacio and Gable Steveson warming up by the Pizzeria Uno dumpster. Yeah. That's why you drove to Chicago. For the good stuff....

 

[ionel]

Ok ...

[ILLINIWrestlingBlog]

This is a Community Narrative Project. How does the story end? The best continuation(s) will be added to the story at The ILLINI Wrestling Blog and Forum and Beyond. No $$$, but you'll get sweet, sweet credit. 

[ionel]

7 minutes ago, ILLINIWrestlingBlog said:

 

Thats why you drove to Chicago.  For the good stuff....

 

... as long as I'm already in Chicago I'm gonna stop by Wkn's for some bourbon (he's got the good stuff) before attempting continuation ...

[D3 for LU]

Where's that Chicago deep dish pizza I keep hearing about?

(But if I have a slice or two, I'm afraid I'll wont make weight, coach!)

D3.

[Theo Brixton]

44 minutes ago, ILLINIWrestlingBlog said:

You smell the sweat of a thousand riding time points, and your adrenaline goes through the ******* roof! 

Are you walking into a meth-fueled brothel (or bathhouse, not that there's anything wrong with that...) or a wrestling tournament? I can envision Dylan Palacio being equally at home in either scenario.

[Wrestleknownothing]

1 hour ago, ionel said:

... as long as I'm already in Chicago I'm gonna stop by Wkn's for some bourbon (he's got the good stuff) before attempting continuation ...

You have inspired me, ionel. It is Calumet Farms 15 tonight.

[ionel]

48 minutes ago, Wrestleknownothing said:

You have inspired me, ionel. It is Calumet Farms 15 tonight.

I'll be there in 15. 

Edited April 24, 2023 by ionel

[ILLINIWrestlingBlog]

1 hour ago, Theo Brixton said:

Are you walking into a meth-fueled brothel (or bathhouse, not that there's anything wrong with that...) or a wrestling tournament? I can envision Dylan Palacio being equally at home in either scenario.

 

You are supposed to write the end of the story, Theo! But, okay, I will give you some additional assistance:

PLOT NOTES

It is the End Times. 

The NCAA and state high school governing bodies have opted for Freestyle instead of Folkstyle. There is a Resistance movement, but it is uncoordinated and decentralized. Mostly, there are just individuals looking for Folkstyle matches anywhere they can find them.

MOTIVATION

The individuals who miss Folkstyle wrestling need that riding time fix to get them through the day. 

GENRE

A human interest story set in an apocalyptic future in which Freestyle has become the dominant wrestling style in the United States, but it is also part comedy, part parody and part satire.

[Plasmodium]

Proposed FS clarification: "Leg Lace" shall be known as the "Death Roll"

[GreatWhiteNorth]

5 hours ago, ionel said:

... as long as I'm already in Chicago I'm gonna stop by Wkn's for some bourbon (he's got the good stuff) before attempting continuation ...

What's that strange noise? Sounds like both the rumbling of a herd of giant buffalo and the whistling of a locomotive - at the same time, and in the air. Nukes. Damn nukes. Swiftly headed over the north pole and directly to Chicago.

Hard to say where it came from. Maybe those moronic Russkis with their weird fixation with both war and their short, little, goofy leader - or the North Koreans with their own short, little, goofy leader who they secretly hate and morbidly dread will one day do them all in. In the windy city, it doesn't really matter much at this point.

GIANT-FLASH/GIANT-BOOM/GIANT-RUMBLE... there goes the Illini. Gonna miss I-Mart, but that blog guy - meh, was never too sure about him. Oh, and wasn't cool for the maybe 3 million'ish other folks who were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Ionel and WKN, those were the real losses here. From what I understand, they were about to post notes from their bourbon tasting. I'll never be able to read them. 

FIN

[Theo Brixton]

9 hours ago, ILLINIWrestlingBlog said:

 

You are supposed to write the end of the story, Theo! But, okay, I will give you some additional assistance:

PLOT NOTES

It is the End Times. 

The NCAA and state high school governing bodies have opted for Freestyle instead of Folkstyle. There is a Resistance movement, but it is uncoordinated and decentralized. Mostly, there are just individuals looking for Folkstyle matches anywhere they can find them.

MOTIVATION

The individuals who miss Folkstyle wrestling need that riding time fix to get them through the day. 

GENRE

A human interest story set in an apocalyptic future in which Freestyle has become the dominant wrestling style in the United States, but it is also part comedy, part parody and part satire.

I have to say, I never thought there would be a thread of folkstyle fan fiction here. But since you insist, I'll indulge you...

When I peered through the crowd, I caught a partial view of a single, worn Resilite mat. Its frayed edges were  folded up upon the brick facade to fit in the narrow alleyway. As I made my way forward, I could see Ed Ruth taking the mat against a nameless foe. Ed was wearing a tattered, navy blue PSU singlet, a rarity among the competitors typically donning reversible pink and baby blue singlets sanctioned for "Wrestling". You wouldn't even have to know who Ruth was to know this was a folkstyle OG taking the mat. As the ref blew the whistle, the competitors sized each other up, knowing one wrong move might spell their demise. Ruth's opponent takes a deep shot but Ed is able to sprawl. It's sometimes said that lesbians with long fingers are well-hung. I'm not sure what they would call Ed's banana hands, a veritable John Holmes of the digits. He uses them to forcefully butt-drag his foe-- a move strictly forbidden by the "Wrestling" Federation. The reason being Commissioner Mulvaney wants "Wrestling" to maximize inclusivity and this particular hold might unintentionally damage the stitching of newly transitioned athletes. You see, the Federation's "Wrestling" has replaced all styles: folkstyle, greco-roman and women's wrestling to create a single, inter-gendered game of horrors.

As Ed gained control, the crowd shouted "twoooo". The Chicago house rules pay no heed to the three-point bastardization that sent their beloved style into an irreversible tailspin. Chicago rules stipulate takedowns are worth two points and escapes are also worth two. However, no one dares to choose bottom when given the choice--riding time is revered in Chicago and each minute of advantage time is granted five points. Furthermore, no wrestler is saved by the bell--if one wrestler is in the advantage position after the first period, wrestling continues and no choice is granted during the match. Ed is now in the driver's seat and won't dare to take any uneccessary risks. His preferred ride is the Penn State ankle trap that he learned from coach Cael-- or Nittany Voldemort as he is known among the folkstyle faithful after he finagled multiple entries per weight for the PSU squad thereby destroying NCAA wrestling. Try as he might, Ed's foe could not escape and spent every last ounce of energy to break free. As the final whistle blew, Ruth's opponent collapsed into a tepid puddle of afterbirth, spent from his efforts. His coaches needed to scrape his lifeless body off the Resilite so that Corby could perform his perfunctory inter-match Stevie Wonder rituals with the Sterilaser, the mat disinfectant of choice since approaching the nearby establishments for a bucket of water and bleach might draw too much attention to their illicit endeavor.

After some time, shouts of "THERE HE IS!" could be heard over the din of the restless throng. The sea of people surrounding the Resilite parted and in walked a bloated, middle-age Moses of the mat. It mattered none that he sported a paunch only made possible by Mr. Pibb and long-haul trucking. In fact, what would be a liability in any other domain has become a uniquely lethal weapon. James Flemming was a crowd favorite for his tenacious mat skills. His tactics were so brilliant even Shane Sparks couldn't be bothered with mat returns. The ref blew the whistle after allowing James to pull the singlet straps over his furry potbelly. He immediately moved to the edge of the mat where his strategy was to simply back out-of-bounds at the first hint of danger. No concerns for stalling, this IS folkstyle, after all. He only needed to weather the first period so that he could ultimately get his chance to take top. Here, lining up on his opponent's right side, he deploys his visceral adiposity with aplomb, driving his belly into his opponent's back. This forward pressure invariably thwarted his victim's first move, leaving them susceptible to the inevitable. The period begins and Flemming effortlessly moves to the head where he cinches his patented headlock. It is only a matter of time before he pries his prey over and the crowd goes wild. Here he holds his victim for the remainder of regulation at which point the crowd screams for more and the referee allows the match to continue. Only a verbal submission of Flemming's foe will end the match. Try as he might, his opponents jaw cannot take anymore and he relents, squealing and tapping the mat. The crowd erupts and swarms the mat. It takes three second-generation Polish construction workers to lift Flemming upon their shoulders where they carry him off to the Giordano's around the block for a celebratory deep-dish, a Flemming favorite. 

[Wrestleknownothing]

35 minutes ago, Theo Brixton said:

I have to say, I never thought there would be a thread of folkstyle fan fiction here. But since you insist, I'll indulge you...

When I peered through the crowd, I caught a partial view of a single, worn Resilite mat. Its frayed edges were  folded up upon the brick facade to fit in the narrow alleyway. As I made my way forward, I could see Ed Ruth taking the mat against a nameless foe. Ed was wearing a tattered, navy blue PSU singlet, a rarity among the competitors typically donning reversible pink and baby blue singlets sanctioned for "Wrestling". You wouldn't even have to know who Ruth was to know this was a folkstyle OG taking the mat. As the ref blew the whistle, the competitors sized each other up, knowing one wrong move might spell their demise. Ruth's opponent takes a deep shot but Ed is able to sprawl. It's sometimes said that lesbians with long fingers are well-hung. I'm not sure what they would call Ed's banana hands, a veritable John Holmes of the digits. He uses them to forcefully butt-drag his foe-- a move strictly forbidden by the "Wrestling" Federation. The reason being Commissioner Mulvaney wants "Wrestling" to maximize inclusivity and this particular hold might unintentionally damage the stitching of newly transitioned athletes. You see, the Federation's "Wrestling" has replaced all styles: folkstyle, greco-roman and women's wrestling to create a single, inter-gendered game of horrors.

As Ed gained control, the crowd shouted "twoooo". The Chicago house rules pay no heed to the three-point bastardization that sent their beloved style into an irreversible tailspin. Chicago rules stipulate takedowns are worth two points and escapes are also worth two. However, no one dares to choose bottom when given the choice--riding time is revered in Chicago and each minute of advantage time is granted five points. Furthermore, no wrestler is saved by the bell--if one wrestler is in the advantage position after the first period, wrestling continues and no choice is granted during the match. Ed is now in the driver's seat and won't dare to take any uneccessary risks. His preferred ride is the Penn State ankle trap that he learned from coach Cael-- or Nittany Voldemort as he is known among the folkstyle faithful after he finagled multiple entries per weight for the PSU squad thereby destroying NCAA wrestling. Try as he might, Ed's foe could not escape and spent every last ounce of energy to break free. As the final whistle blew, Ruth's opponent collapsed into a tepid puddle of afterbirth, spent from his efforts. His coaches needed to scrape his lifeless body off the Resilite so that Corby could perform his perfunctory inter-match Stevie Wonder rituals with the Sterilaser, the mat disinfectant of choice since approaching the nearby establishments for a bucket of water and bleach might draw too much attention to their illicit endeavor.

After some time, shouts of "THERE HE IS!" could be heard over the din of the restless throng. The sea of people surrounding the Resilite parted and in walked a bloated, middle-age Moses of the mat. It mattered none that he sported a paunch only made possible by Mr. Pibb and long-haul trucking. In fact, what would be a liability in any other domain has become a uniquely lethal weapon. James Flemming was a crowd favorite for his tenacious mat skills. His tactics were so brilliant even Shane Sparks couldn't be bothered with mat returns. The ref blew the whistle after allowing James to pull the singlet straps over his furry potbelly. He immediately moved to the edge of the mat where his strategy was to simply back out-of-bounds at the first hint of danger. No concerns for stalling, this IS folkstyle, after all. He only needed to weather the first period so that he could ultimately get his chance to take top. Here, lining up on his opponent's right side, he deploys his visceral adiposity with aplomb, driving his belly into his opponent's back. This forward pressure invariably thwarted his victim's first move, leaving them susceptible to the inevitable. The period begins and Flemming effortlessly moves to the head where he cinches his patented headlock. It is only a matter of time before he pries his prey over and the crowd goes wild. Here he holds his victim for the remainder of regulation at which point the crowd screams for more and the referee allows the match to continue. Only a verbal submission of Flemming's foe will end the match. Try as he might, his opponents jaw cannot take anymore and he relents, squealing and tapping the mat. The crowd erupts and swarms the mat. It takes three second-generation Polish construction workers to lift Flemming upon their shoulders where they carry him off to the Giordano's around the block for a celebratory deep-dish, a Flemming favorite. 

You had me until Giordano's.

Has to be Lou's.

[Theo Brixton]

15 minutes ago, Wrestleknownothing said:

You had me until Giordano's.

Has to be Lou's.

We're talking about a guy living off of Mr. Pibb here.

But truth be told, I think they're interchangeable. They're both trash compared to tavern style pizza in my book.

[TexRef]

12 hours ago, Plasmodium said:

Proposed FS clarification: "Leg Lace" shall be known as the "Death Roll"

I think you meant "Scrub Death Roll" 

[Wrestleknownothing]

7 hours ago, Theo Brixton said:

We're talking about a guy living off of Mr. Pibb here.

But truth be told, I think they're interchangeable. They're both trash compared to tavern style pizza in my book.

Pistols at dawn?

[Southend]

(he’s got the good stuff) Flap? Is that you?

[ILLINIWrestlingBlog]

I live in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. There is not a deep dish pizza house within 300 miles. The last one closed 15 years ago for lack of business. As if that wasn't crazy enough, the folks down here use a mustard-based BBQ sauce. I order Pizzeria Uno delivered in dry ice. 

I am not a rich man, but I will pay a few extra dollars for civilization. 

As for our story, well, it is moving right along. Theo, you have captured the desperation, the grittiness, and the low-rent nature of this hypothetical apocalypse.

In essence, the story is about a boy and his wrestling style.

 

[D3 for LU]

Mr.Pibb... isn't that the South's answer to Dr. Pepper?

D3

[Theo Brixton]

I say this all with love but...

5 hours ago, Wrestleknownothing said:

Pistols at dawn?

Your dawn, not mine. If I wanted lasagna, I eat lasagna. If I wanted a calzone, I'd get a calzone. But if I want pizza, I'm not eating it with a goddamn fork and knife. Deep-dish pizza is a teenage girl's conception of what pizza should be.

5 hours ago, ILLINIWrestlingBlog said:

I live in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. There is not a deep dish pizza house within 300 miles. The last one closed 15 years ago for lack of business. As if that wasn't crazy enough, the folks down here use a mustard-based BBQ sauce. I order Pizzeria Uno delivered in dry ice. 

I am not a rich man, but I will pay a few extra dollars for civilization. 

I live in an Asian city where every Western comfort food has been bastardized to the point of rendering them inedible. But not once have I thought that dry ice-delivered Pizzeria Uno would be the answer to my culinary prayers. If this is civilization, that asteroid can't come soon enough.

1 hour ago, D3 for LU said:

Mr.Pibb... isn't that the South's answer to Dr. Pepper?

D3

Apparently you haven't seen the future. You've been forewarned.  

[flyingcement]

5 minutes ago, Theo Brixton said:

I say this all with love but...

Your dawn, not mine. If I wanted lasagna, I eat lasagna. If I wanted a calzone, I'd get a calzone. But if I want pizza, I'm not eating it with a goddamn fork and knife. Deep-dish pizza is a teenage girl's conception of what pizza should be.

I live in an Asian city where every Western comfort food has been bastardized to the point of rendering them inedible. But not once have I thought that dry ice-delivered Pizzeria Uno would be the answer to my culinary prayers. If this is civilization, that asteroid can't come soon enough.

Apparently you haven't seen the future. You've been forewarned.  

Can we guess? My first guess is Hong Kong

[Wrestleknownothing]

2 minutes ago, Theo Brixton said:

I say this all with love but...

Your dawn, not mine. If I wanted lasagna, I eat lasagna. If I wanted a calzone, I'd get a calzone. But if I want pizza, I'm not eating it with a goddamn fork and knife. Deep-dish pizza is a teenage girl's conception of what pizza should be.

I live in an Asian city where every Western comfort food has been bastardized to the point of rendering them inedible. But not once have I thought that dry ice-delivered Pizzeria Uno would be the answer to my culinary prayers. If this is civilization, that asteroid can't come soon enough.

Apparently you haven't seen the future. You've been forewarned.  

I love the lean into it. In that vein...

When your objection is the cutlery, you have no objection.

 

[Theo Brixton]

5 minutes ago, Wrestleknownothing said:

I love the lean into it. In that vein...

When your objection is the cutlery, you have no objection.

An objection, not the objection. The ratios are all wrong. Again, Chicago Tavern-style pizza is the best. 

[ILLINIWrestlingBlog]

1 hour ago, Theo Brixton said:

 

I live in an Asian city where every Western comfort food has been bastardized to the point of rendering them inedible. But not once have I thought that dry ice-delivered Pizzeria Uno would be the answer to my culinary prayers. If this is civilization, that asteroid can't come soon enough.

I will join with Wkn on the field of honor. [slaps face with fancy perfumed white silk glove]

I've tried to make deep dish pizza--one of the top two foods in the world--and it comes out goulash. I can't get the sauce matrix right. Papa Del's said they'd fly me a pie for $100. D'oh! Had to go with frozen Pizzeria Uno.

As for our story, I will update it tomorrow on The ILLINI Wrestling Blog and Forum and Beyond. With your permission, I'll chop your piece into smaller bite-sized paragraphs. Cheers!

 

 

[Theo Brixton]

1 hour ago, flyingcement said:

Can we guess? My first guess is Hong Kong

What is this, Where's Waldo?

Not Hong Kong. Any truly international city in Asia has legitimate Western food, by my increasingly lowered standards.