What is pro wrestling if not two psychopaths trying to kill each other in a scrapyard? The uncultured sorts, the uncouth philistines, may argue that two psychopaths trying to kill each other in a scrapyard is NOT pro wrestling. Pro wrestling is a spectacle for the arenas and bright lights, not some savage freak show to be contested in the dirt. I don't wish to be dismissive, but I would dismiss those claims as nonsense; gibberish words from people who can safely be ignored. This was a bonkers brawl, as nasty and filthy as it gets, blood-soaked, piss-drenched. Hijo de Fishman must be the single most unpleasant bastard this side of Kurisu, a stocky unit bursting out of his shirt, head almost too big for his mask, a man unsatisfied with his lot in life and willing to take it out on everyone else. This barely goes a minute before he's jabbing Demus with a broken bottle and smashing a crate over his head. While he's doing the forehead-stabbing one woman cowers by the man next to her, clutching his arm, trying to give herself as wide a berth from the mauling going on not but one foot away, appalled that this, of all places, is where her companion chose to bring her on the one night in two weeks they've been able to get out the house. Another man, presumably not an associate of the aforementioned couple, with half his face tattooed, records Demus' forehead being carved up on his phone and hands Fishman a bottle to be used as a weapon. Many people hand many bottles. Fishman instead picks up a whole crate of beer, seems to pause for a second considering if throwing a whole crate of beer is in fact a good idea, then throws the whole crate of beer. I don't even know what it was but he finds a huge metal drum, struggles plainly to lift the thing, and drops it full on Demus' leg as Demus writhes and convulses like he's going into shock. The package piledriver on the hood of a rusted out car was frankly absurd and then Demus about shattered his tailbone getting backdropped off it. Fishman slams someone in the dirt for getting too close to him and the beauty is that it could've been a fan, the ref', the priest, who knows. He tries to pick up a beer cooler, obviously to be used as a projectile, and four separate people - the owners of the beer cooler? - immediately have to restrain him and I'm honestly shocked he never headbutted one or all of them. Demus is a man of the people and after making his comeback he's also handed a beer bottle, from which he drinks deeply before smashing it over Fishman's head and using the broken end to rip his mask and stab him in the head. This legitimately might be the only time I've ever seen someone put on a motorbike helmet and use it to hit a running headbutt on someone sitting slumped over in a chair. Both of them slam a detached car door over the other's head and when Demus kicks out Fishmn volleys the referee in the balls. The trading of wooden crate shots to the head must be the Mexican junkyard indy version of the clean and pristine forearm exchange and I know which one resonated with me the most. Both of the bumps into glass panes were insane, first with Demus taking a death valley driver as the glass shatters into a million pieces and front row spectators are left picking shards out of their skin for a week, then Fishman takes a backdrop through a second pane and lands on his neck and shoulders like only a man made of concrete and acrimony would. Demus also wrestled for several minutes with a handful of wooden spikes sticking out of his head. Pretty much a masterpiece.
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