I begin moving for the chickenwing and you get back on your feet. Fast.
Uh oh. He's got a--
UUUUMMFFF!!!
My sore chin hits the top of your head and I lose hold of the hammerlock, staggering back toward the ropes, my ankle making thirty-one flavors of pain as I do. It's an uncontrolled stumble--as most are--so that means I'm putting weight on it when I shouldn't. I fall back, but luckily, the ropes are there to catch me and keep me from falling over. I hook the top rope with my arm, cradling it, grabbing the middle rope with my hand.
My free hand grabs my jaw, making sure nothing's broken. No. Nothing's broken. But I'm going to have a big, fat, ugly bruise for about a week.
You're going to follow up. No doubt. Luckily, the pain in my jaw and ankle aren't blurring my vision. Yet.
This is going to be tricky. And it's going to hurt. Then, it's going to really hurt.
First, I have to make sure you believe I'm more hurt than I am. So, I close my eyes and make the right kind of sounds, grasping my jaw tightly.
Second, I wait for you to get close.
Third, when you do get close, I kick my legs up (this is the "It's going to hurt" part) and lock my ankles around your head for a head scissors.
Finally, keeping hold of the top rope, I pull your head toward the second rope, hoping to clothesline you on it. While keeping hold of the top rope.
I should land on your back for another leg scissors around your waist. And if that works (and I'm really lucky), I'll be able to roll back toward the center of the ring, rolling you with me, putting your shoulders down for an unexpected and fast three count. Of course, trying to hold you down that way is going to really hurt.
But I don't count on luck, so I just accept the fact that this is gonna hurt. And then really hurt.