osh. This softens him up good, and my bum
clamps the pretzel bend on him. That Martian squirms like an octopus,
with arms and legs flying in all directions. And you coulda knocked me
over with a subpoena when he got out of it!

Your guess is as good as mine, how he done it. But my bum is moving
fast, 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 gets
the count.

Each bum has got a fall. You shoulda heard them Martians there
squeaking this time--ten times as loud as when their bum won the foist
fall. But they had no squawks. These flying chandeliers they had, they
kinda bunched up to follow the action, and the light was good so the
ref couldn't make no mistake about it.

That Martian squirming out of the pretzel bend don't look so good, so
I tell my bum not to use it for the thoid fall. I tell him to give the
Martian some more of them knee lifts--he don't get along with them at
all. 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 what
happens. He bangs that Martian around with elbow smashes and knee
lifts till he don't know is he on one leg or six. Then he goes in fast
and grabs him by a coupla legs and arms, holds him up in the air, and
spins him like a pinwheel.

Right away I knowed something was in the air besides that Martian
Mangler. Oi! Did things happen all to onct!

My bum slams the Martian and falls on him for the count, and wins the
thoid fall and the match. That part is okay. But while the Martian is
still up in the air I notice that all the squeaking from the Martians
has stopped all of a sudden.

So from the Martians we are getting nothing but silence, strictly
wholesale. I think maybe that's natural when their bum gets trun.

And then--plop! plop! plop!--and them flying light bulbs all drop down
flat on the mat and lay there just like the Martian bum, until they
isn't enough light in the house to see to strike a match. And then the
squeaking starts again, like a million hungry rats, and I can just
barely see them Martians starting for the ring.

I gets my bum by the arm and tells him something tells me we better
blow the joint. We blow, fast. Them Martians is mad about something
which I ain't had time to figure out, yet. My bum steps on one of them
animated light fixtures when he gets out of the ring and squashes it.
A puddle of light squir