SPECIAL REFEREE: SALMA HAYEK

Posted by Simguy on 10/28/2005, 7:20 am.

Before: Bitter JMD rivals—Simpson triumphing last time these two met—Hewitt determined to reverse the verdict. “Jessica makes my blood boil,” Jennifer freely admits in prefight. “They coined the term ‘JMD’ for me—ME! And she’s always right in there, trying to make it all about her. My plan for Jessica Simpson is simple: batter her, then snuggle her out. Even she should be able to get it.” When asked for her strategy, Simpson is similarly vague—going on and on about her pink dukes bikini as though it were a tactical weapon, “My jugs always stop her jugs,” Simpsy says in a lucid moment, somber faced and hard eyed. “Always.” Jessica in heartpounding Dukes bikini, white runners/socks, Small gloves, both vixens. Special guest referee Salma Hayek in tight black twist tie top with baby doll sleeves, bare midriff, black boy cut trunks, black shoes/white socks, black leather driving gloves cut short at the wrist.

During R1: Coldhearted beauties stomp to midring, reach back and toss right hands as though the punch will be outlawed any day now. Big banging, buffeting, clobber meted out, little jigglers staggering around, pawing lefts to locate the other, drifting rights—fight may well as be on a honky-tonk dance floor for all the science. Simpson hooks and right hands prevail, wearing out the Hewitt chin—Jenny Love’s got a distant, glassy-eyed look as she fades to ropes at the midway point, digging in at ropes. SIMPSY WANMTS JUG! Great, glorious mittfuls of jug—Jessica squaring away, standing in the stirrups and HOISTING her hands up into Hewitt’s bounty. Jenny groaning, falling forward to clinch—Simpsy smart enough to hook the bejesus out of Jen’s liver. Ripping in behind that elbow lefty, right foot coming off the canvas in exuberance and HEWITT GOES DOWN! Jennifer sniveling early, cringing from hard body shots—she’s up and quaky at 8. ON COMES SIMPSON! Jessica tearing into her rival without restraint—chugging tyo that heaving rack—blonde hair tossing, tanned shoulders rotating—she’s just getting up in there with short arm, heaving licks. JENNY’S DOWN AGAIN! This time to pure jug-muggery—Hewitt panting, stunned and disheveled on all fours at the bell. Simpson oarading the ring like she’s won the thing—throbbing, distraught Hewitt flopping down oin her stool ragdoll for the break.

R2: OH THE SLUGGING! Simpson looking to load up on clout, missing over the top and hurling herself across the ring—Hewitt similarly wild as girls leave their feet to cave in opposition chins. Careening, reeling stuff—flying fists and hair, glaring eyes, bared teeth—eventually it’s a clouting Hewitt hook caroming off blonde chin that has Jessi stomping in fence post holes, Ramshackle blonde stumble-stamping wobbly butt to ropes, setting up in groggy ear muff and JENNIFER WANTS JUG! Crowd roaring to its feet and saluting as one—Hewitt’s gobbling up every inch of Simpson rack in a FRENZY of upthrusting chug! Hup-hup-hup punching from an enraged Hewitt—poor Jessica in stupor, tilted forward to receive her blessings: jug meat bunching up under Hewitt’s cruel pounding as blonde can only pout in dismay. Jennifer growing arm weary in the final minute—she dials it back a bit—bodying up on Simpsy to crush her flat against ropes, making blonde feel the weight. Jennifer spreading out the punishment to the bell, tucking in short left hands behind Jessi’s elbow, fitting in snug above the hip; clipping the overhanging Simpson chin a tidy little right uppercut (much improved punch for Hewitt by the way).

R3: Sloppy first minute as Jessica’s legs aren’t back and she’s falling in to clinch—Hewitt’s still hurting and arm weary besides—she’s accepting the clinches and staggering around, looking to maul Jess cheap inside. Girls bumble to ropes, Hewitt wrestles Jessica’s back to the ropes, pushes at her, bodies up on her, then catches a second win. More methodical jug-mugging dished now—Jennifer breathing hard, but regularly—she wants to set a steady pace and put constant work on Simpson. Simpsy with that bad habit of simply stooping forward behind her mitts when hurt: she’s just so THERE for Hewitt punching, hoping brunette fury will spend itself, Jenny Love chugging—arms pumping rhythmically—she’s catching Jessi’s elbows and guard some, but bumping plenty of rack, dipping her knees to make sure she’s getting up into the belly and sternum as well. Pink bikini top suffering—blonde jugs sloshing, flattening under the pounding assault. Top it all off—that nasty little Hewitt right uppercut—just a short, clipping shot—she’s keeping Jessica paralyzed with those blows, rendering tender jug vulnerable to sustained bombardment. Bell—Jenny straightens, tucks a pair of right hands THUP! THUIP! Into Jessi’s breadbasket—blonde gasps, hugs tummy and doubles over—Hayek in casually to body Jennifer off, mumbling something about late hitting without apparent concern. Simpson badly beaten, totally dominated—judges award Hewitt the 10-8 sans knockdown.

R4: Hewitt snarling, doing a little sharp shooting this round  setting jess up with a blunt jab in the mouth, Hewitt able to  work a chopping little right hand off the stick—short, hacking shot off her shoulder, down onto Jessica’s cheek over blonde’s left shoulder—Simpsy stomping wobbly butt, trying to deal with this new threat. Hewitt stepping to her right, bringing the outsider-in right uppercut to pick up Jessi’s chin—good, Tight over and under work being doled out by Jen. Jessica crumbling, stepping in fence post holes: eyes moist, lips pouting, hands pushing out to fend Hewitt off rather than punch at her. Jessica stalking, walking Simpsy down, moves blonde to ropes with a pair of thick swinging sidearm rights to the midsection, drawing a breathy groan and wince of complaint, Simpson setting up ropeside again—Hewitt calmly stepping to her, cuffing her ear the swat-hook up top, then really sinking it I above the right hip as Jessica shivers in hurt. Hewitt getting big on Jess, bumping her the left shoulder, clubbing her hooks, tucking rights/lefts methodically to jug. Simpson soaking it up through 4 as Hewitt chips away on the cards.

R5: Hewitt chopping that short right cross, short right uppy combo—buzzing Simspy’s legs timer and again, but stalwart little Krusher refusing to go down under hard knocks. Simpsy belting back this round—thick right hands to paunch; swinging hooks to chin—reckless slugging unpredictable, often catching Hewitt at awkward times in her own delivery., Midway through, girls trade hooks and JENNIFER GOES DOWN! Hewitt scooting to a stop on her backside, blinking and open mouthed—Jessica bats gloves together and stomps to neutral corner. Hewitt up at 8 and HERE COMES JESS! Simpson PLOWING in with renewed vigor and SCROUNGING UPO THAT RACK! Great, hefting, dredging blows—Jessica arching her back to get in there and buckling Jen’s knees with hateful ferocity. Hewitt breaking down, reaching to clinch but Jessica’s too much: Simpsy turning her shoulder into short-biting hooks, finding Hewitt’s chin and PUTTING HER ON ALL FOURS! Jennifer shaking her head in dismay, quivering as she struggles up once gain—knockdowns recharging Simpson batteries that had been getting drained by Hewitt’s steady punching.

R6: Jenny Love badly dazed—pushing out her punches: Simpson sails in with slobberknocker pasting JLH free-swinging rights and lefts on the button. HEWITT GOES DOWN! Groan from the crowd as Jessica’s brawling blows stretch Jenny Love on her back—clean blonde running shoes stomp away as Simpson heartlessly tramples inner thigh, rounded bicep en-route to far ropes. Hayek putting a finger in Simpson’s face and warning her for “trampling”—poor Jenny Love hugging herself, cringing on her side—she benefits from the delayed count. Hewitt up at 8, but reeling at the ropers: eyelashes fluttering, mouth open—Jen’s not taking Jessica’s punches well and both girls know it. ON COMES SIMPSY! Jessica tearing into Jen’s rack like it’s the biggest gift under the tree at Christmas—a-chugging, a-mugging, a-scrubbing on up in there.

Hewitt destitute, baring her throat, lips parting—she’s crying freely now, just soaking up Simpson’s hardhearted work. Sound of leather belting off breast meat drawing winces from ringside—sensational slugging getting done, blonde on brunette. Down the stretch, Simpsy spent—she reaches under Hewitt’s arms and bodies her thick into ropes, wallowing atop the brunette as both girls catch a breather. Corner screaming across the ring for Jess to  “KEEP WORKING!”—she manages to knead a series of pumping lefts and rights into Hewitt’s throbbing gut while laying in on Jen mouth-on-shoulder. Bell: Simpsy’s still plugging away—Hayek leisurely pulling blonde off by the elbow and escorting her to her corner.

R7: Battered vixens slink to midring—flatfooted stepping, dreamy eyes: this thing’s taking its toll. They take turns toe-to-toe: Jennifer initiating with a clout-hook upside the head, the short-chopping right to cheek, the follow-on hook to mouth; Jessica stepping in with blunt lead rights to mouth, short left hooks as she leans onto her right foot. Tic-tac-toe give and go graduates inside—girls setting up shoulder to shoulder, nudging and bumping at each other before cuffing paunch, swiping jug, clipping chin in tight. Hayek taking a keen interest—she’s right in there, often with a hand on either vixen’s back—it’s like a little punching huddle. Bell: Hayek smiling—hey, Latina loves in-fighting. Hewitt gets a close nod: she’s initiating, a little more in control with her combinations, a little more accurate.

R8: Both girls still committing on punches, but the hurt and fatigue really adding up—both looking to clinch whenever the other lands stout as pace slows. Girls laying in mouth on shoulder, pushing and walking each other back. Girls working consistently to midsection with short rights and lefts. Hewitt’s right hand the classier—that chop off the shoulder and meanspirited little right uppercut doing wonders on Jessica’s face: blonde all glossy and punished from Hewitt’s compact clout.

R9: Jessica’s starting to break down: knees buckling, legs staggering more—Hewitt starting to bully her girl, shove her around like a shopping cart. Jen really enjoying moments with Jessica at the ropes—brunette able to set and rip hooks to the flank, really digging in flat behind the elbow, then scooping jug as Simpsy droops forward. Stupendous Double D’s there for the taking—Jennifer dishing out clout simply by reaching in with the left to steady, then licking short rights up and across the beef, Jessica not doing much, but you have to admire the curvy stubbornness of those legs: she basically soaks this round, but won’t give Hewitt satisfaction of going down, Jennifer hot and sweaty after hardworking ninth—she’s exhausted, but confident on her stool.

R10: Hewitt’s chop right hand victimizing Jess now—she rings Simpsy up to the cheek, steps right to allow Jessica room to stumble forward to ropes. Jessica wobbly butt, open-mouthed, staring—she’s hurt, leaning forward behind her mitts as Jenny steps-to. Hewitt short-hooking the jaw, turning her shoulder tight behind the punch, then doubling down in Jessi’s right-side ribs: blonde making moist little blubbering noises as she reaches for brunette hips. Hayek quick to break blonde clinches: she wants punching. Hewitt with that right cocked at her chin, leaning in and trying to land a diamond cutter to win this thing—Jessica [proving stupid-tuff as she takes and takes without quitting. Hewitt stepping up her attack to jug, rolling shoulders to get in underneath right/left, but spreading out the harm: Simpson bludgeoned amidships, to her head, on her flasnks to the bell. Jennifer salting it away late with a series of sawing right uppercuts scraped against Jessi’s lips/face—Hayek moving in only when several shots have landed, dazing Simpsy. Long delay as card are tallied and it comes back a DRAW! Both girls haggard, shocked, at the announcement.

After: Hayek shaking her head with pursed ;lips=--she’s more disappointed in the draw than anyone in the house. Fights breaking out in the stands between hardcore Hewitt and Simpson fan-atics—it’s pandemonium. Salma collects battlers before they can wander off: deal being haggled righty then and there with Hayek the broker. Jen and Jess nodding—tired, bleak with punishment, but unwilling to walk away from one another—gloves are removed and the RING IS CLEARED! Hayek moves in between the girls, claps her hands, the steps back as curvy battlers jump in to lock up!

Desperate embrace—girls clutching each other up high—they pitch and reel into ropes, struggling for position. Jessica’s tongue pink between her lips as she works hard—she’s got her left arm up around Jen’s had, trying to lever brunette face down into that heaving mass of blonde cleavage. Jen’s face a-grimace: straining to keep her head up; left hand desperately pushing on Jessi’s right bicep. Hewitt’s left arm suddenly snakes around Jessi’s head and tables are reversed—Hewitt pushing Jessica deep into ropes to keep her from setting her feet. Now it’s pink on top as Jessica shifts her hips and destabilizes Hewitt—now it’s white—girls just locked in tight, each desperate to force the other’s face into quivering breastmeat. Feet stomping, toned thighs quivering, hard-working backsides jiggling for balance—both corners clapping and exhorting their girl as grappler tumbles along the ropes.

Jessica stacked up against the ropes, chin out over Hewitt’s left shoulder: Hewitt’s left arm snug under Jessi’s right, right riding over Simpson’s ;left shoulder—brunette just leaning in with weight. Jessica thinking in there, licking salty lips—little hair pull with the right hand gets Hayek to slap angrily at Jessica’s wrist. Bellies breathing in and out against one another—neither girl wanting to make a move and risk anything: it’s sweaty stalemate, Jen on top.

Suddenly, Hewitt with a little thigh lift moist between Jessica’s legs—just a little shoving SHUMP, taut quad packed into tender trunks—poor Simpson sobbing out, crumpling and Hewitt quickly gobbles her up! Jen writhing to get left arm snug behind Jessi’s head, pressing blonde face deep to rack. Hewitt’s left hand grabs her right bicep, the right hand cups Jessica’s skull, fingers pushing through damp mass of shining blonde hair. Jenny Lover cinches up—shaking side to side, lips pressed tight, eyes staring off into the distance—poor Simpsy trapped! Jessica’s hands flutter to Jennifer’s hips, then clinch up behind brunette back. The hands resting on the horsey ride of Hewitt’s buttocks. Jessica panicking—hands now reaching up to pull at Hewitt’s shoulders from behind: Jennifer easing herself to a seat on a convenient turnbuckle, letting her jugs do the hard work of putting Simpson out. Jennifer lifting her right foot, resting it on the bottom strand, getting nice and comfy, resting her cheek atop Jessica’s head as blonde resistance starts to trickle away, Salma in there, checking the grip with a finger betwixt skull and bicep, finding the champ snug.

Finally, inevitably—Jennifer reclines against the corner ropes, releasing Jess—blonde flowing first to seat, bumping into Salma’s knees, then sprawling out on her back,. Hands up around her head as she lies dormant at Jennifer’s feet. Hayek beaming (at Simpsy’s destruction, not Hewitt’s triumph), lifts Jennifer’s left hand high—Salma placing her right foot atop Jessica’s pulsing tummy to complete the scene. Hewitt drained, but exultant, basks in the glow as she yankls back JMD supremacy from Jessica Simpson.

Final insult: Jennifer obtains a black felt marker, sits down on Jessica’s stomach to write upon her KO’d breast: “To Jessica: Sweet Dreams—Hugs & Punches, Jenny!”

(Simguy Ed. Note: I don’t have a JMD simulator—when the draw came—I just rolled blonde vs brunette dice straight up; high number won. The fight itself a legit draw—but the thought of both girls leaving the ring under their own power left me writhing in rage)

Reposted by Archer 5/30/13

Reposted by Archer.