ustxtxb_obs_1999_03_19_50_00030-00000_000.pdf

AFTERWORD Democracia Populista BY LUIS DEL BOSQUE Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, Mexico It was all over for Mr. Niebla. All over. There he was, on his back in the center of the Coliseo Arena, out cold. And standing on the ropes above him was Pimpinela six-foot-two, 250 pounds, blond, and smiling with one foot on each of the corner turnbuckles and facing the crowd and just waiting to launch the flying backslam or reverse judo flip that would make his World Champion Belt as safe as the money that Carlos Salinas has stashed in Ireland. “iPim-pi! /Pim-pi! iPim-pi!” the crowd chanted, waiting for Pimpinela to throw himself backward onto the foggy Mr. Niebla and end the title match. But at that very moment, with his title defense one leap away, Pimpinela stopped and looked into the sleeve of his left glove not for long, but just long enough for Tarzan Boy, Mr. Niebla’s corner man, to jump into the ring with a big piece of sheet metal. Tarzan Boy had been standing outside the ring, stomping on the sheet metal that had been bent double two fights earlier, after Crazzy Demon had ripped it from the ventilation system and used it to knock Principe Franky unconscious, almost winning a threeon-three death match. Now, everyone watching Tarzan Boy was bewildered, because he had just escaped a similar attack in a four-on-four match, when Dr. Wagner Jr., Arandu, Mosco de la Merced, and Charles Lucero used sheet metal, planks ripped from the floor, and a fan’s belt to put down Salsero Tarzan Boy’s over-sexed One hard blow to the back of Pimpi’s head and he hit the canvas and bounced! falling unconscious a few feet from Mr. Niebla, who was Champion of the World. Mr. Niebla is not all bad, and since not everyone is comfortable with a six-foot two, 250-pound, blond Mexicano who wears a black, crushed-velvet woman’s bathing suit, elbow length, black crushed-velvet gloves, and a transparent Spandex leotard to cover his shaved legs, some in the crowd began their own chant: ” iNiebla! iNiebla! iNiebla!” as the ref dragged himself over to Mr. Niebla, who had collapsed on top of the unconscious Pimpinela. “El ref es un pinche Monte cod00000,” yelled one man with a Chilango accent. El ref fat and bowtied, must have forgotten that it was Niebla’s flying drop-kick that had left him unconscious. And he couldn’t know that while he was out, Pimpinela, furious at Niebla for what he had done to the ref, walked across the ring, decked Niebla, then climbed to the top of the ropes and got ready to end the match stopping only to pull a tube of lipstick from the sleeve of his glove, not to use as a weapon because Pimpinela doesn’t fight that way, but for a quick touch-up that would make him look just that much better on TV talking about his next title defense. That was his only mistake. And it was Boom! Boom! and Boom! as the ref’s hand slapped the canvas three times to make the masked Mr. Niebla the Heavyweight Champion of the World! Pos, como dijo Abraham Lincoln \(or was :A Afro-Caribbean teammate 104.. who uses his sexual charms to bedevil and humiliate his opponents and tonight drove awakened by the shock of the a pack of high school girls and one tall six-foot-two, 250-pound, blond man hitting handsome crossdresser in a front-row seat the canvas beside him. crazy wild by gyrating his hips to taunt Not only did Pimpi’s fall wake Mr. Arandu. Yet in the night’s final champi Niebla. It jarred the unconscious ref to his onship match, Tarzan Boy, a handsome senses, and as Mr. Niebla saw the opportu good guy, was in the ring, quietly walking nity to pin Pimpi the ref began using his el up behind Pimpinela. bows to drag himself across the ring for the And it was Boom! Boom! and Boom! three-count that would make Niebla the of , MARCH 19, 1999 30 THE TEXAS OBSERVER