HWA FLASHBACK 1998: DREW BARRYMORE vs CHRISTINA RICCI
The two combatants writhed across the canvas, locked in a crushing embrace, each panting hard for breath as beads of sweat glistened across their alabaster skin. The time for flashy moves had passed, as the match now reached the 40 minute mark, and both wrestlers were battling exhaustion as well as each other.
Pride was on the line in this contest, as both Drew and Christina struggled to prove who the better technical wrestler was. Thus far it had been a stalemate, but both beauties pushed themselves with all of the fire in their warrior spirits to war on. One of the stipulations of this match is that pins are not counted...a winner will only be declared once her rival submits.
As they rolled back and forth grunting across the mat, Ricci slowly but surely began to move into control, until with a sudden flurry, she had Barrymore flat on her belly, while the brunette pressed herself down on the blonde's back. Christina used her feet to grapevine her adversary's legs, so that Drew remained pinned down, while her hands first cupped themselves under Barrymore's chin, painfully yanking her head back, and then with cobra swiftness, the raven-haired wrestler snaked her arms around her rival's throat and head, locking on a rear naked choke.
Drew wheezed and gurgled as she was increasingly strangled, but ego refused to let her tap out. But finally her brain won out, as she recalled the other stipulation of this match: if one of the women were to be KO'd, she would be suspended from the Hollywood Wrestling Alliance for six months. Unwilling to be driven out of the league on a stretcher, Barrymore swallows her pride and, even as her vision grows dark and she teeters on the brink of oblivion, her right hand taps furiously at the canvas, signalling her surrender.
FLASHBACK 2002: PARIS HILTON vs JESSICA SIMPSON
This was a specialty contest between two blondes who both possessed what were considered to be the loveliest and most powerful legs in celebrity catfighting, to determine whose sultry stems were superior.
They began locked in dual headscissors, the rivals on their sides in a '69' position. Their thighs clamped down around the head of the other like steel vises, the muscles of their legs tightening like steel cords. According to the rules, there would be no time limit: the simultaneous squeeze would continue until one of them tapped out or passed out.
The minutes ticked by, the sounds made by Jessica and Paris going from heavy breathing to grunts, then from moans to whines, and finally each squealed with anguish, yet neither would submit. Their bodies, soaked with sweat, trembled from the effort to continue crushing the other, but they would not relent. As their eyes grew glassy and their faces purpled from the pressure, it looked as if a draw was the only inevitable conclusion. But then...
Maybe a moment of doubt entered her mind, and it weakened her determination. Maybe it was entirely involuntary, almost like a muscle spasm. Or maybe her rival's legs simply proved greater than hers. Whatever the case, a tortured cry of "SHTAAAAAAAP!" came from Jessica's lips, and her hand tapped in submission upon her opponent's thigh. Paris had won.
But the heiress wasn't quite finished with her adversary yet. She was going to make an example of the pop star. The thrill of victory banished the pain and exhaustion she was feeling, and Hilton felt a surge of adrenaline as she released her headscissors, but then pulled the spent, sobbing Simpson up to a seated position, sat on the floor behind her, and snaked her legs around Jessica's waist. The singer's eyes went wide with panic as Paris now tightened her python-like legs around the blonde's midsection, ruthlessly scissoring her. Tears streamed down Jessica's face as her hands ineffectually slapped and tugged at the lethal limbs that now encircled her.
It was Hilton who brought an end to this voluntarily, releasing her body vise, but only so that she could next wrap her thighs around her hapless rival's head with a headscissors. "Oh no no no no noooooo!" Simpson mewled as she was squeezed anew, her eyes going glazed as the power was crushed from her. Had she left this on any longer, the haughty heiress would have driven her opponent into unconsciousness. But that wasn't on Paris's agenda.
Now she released this hold, crawled around to the opposite end of her battered rival, and entwined her gams around Jessica's sculpted stems, locking on a figure four. The sudden jolt of electric anguish to her limbs shocked Simpson out of her stupor, and her wails of pain filled the penthouse. This was the conclusion which Hilton wanted, as her legs were literally destroying those of Simpson, who shrieked and sobbed in helplessness, her body writhing agonizingly on the carpet. Finally, with an almost detached air of aloofness, Paris demanded, "Whose legs are superior?"
"YOURS ARE! YOURS! PLEASE...LET ME GOOOOOOOO!" howled Simpson, her pride now as demolished as her legs. Paris kept the figure four locked on for a few moments more, just out of plain meanness, and then she finally released her vanquished victim. Jessica rolled to her side and curled up into a ball, her hands clutching her now-throbbing knee. Rising up on her triumphant legs, Hilton arrogantly lifted a foot and placed her sole down on the side of her sobbing rival's face, while placing her hands on her hips. She didn't need to say her catchphrase, as multiple spectators chimed in with, "That's hot!"
