When I had left you last...

I was in the city of Wichita, Kansas and had arrived at the Century II Auditorium for a six-man tag team match that I was to be involved in.

Upon entering our dressing room area, we encountered Roger Littlebrook---MY opponent. Angus didn't want to listen to his whining about Mr. Karras forcing him into a match with guys at least 100 pounds bigger then him---he was talking about me---so, Angus threw him, bag and body, out of our dressing room.

Gust Karras had kept me away from the TV tapings so he could get the promos done without my interference---I had been known to be a troublemaker in his eyes and had jumped into other people's interviews if something wasn't right in my humble opinion. After all, I was a gentleman, and I wouldn't stoop to the level that Karras and his stooges were on.

We got dressed and began doing exercises to loosen up for the big match that evening. The bell rang for the main event, and we headed for the ring. Angus and Kirby led the way in their warm and gentle nature of exciting fans by their presence. The entire auditorium was sold out in anticipation of seeing me get my butt kicked by a midget, of all things. Can you imagine that?

Roger Littlebrook, Rufus R. Jones and Danny Littlebear were in the ring and signing autographs when we came from behind the stage curtains just outside of our dressing room. Fans began booing us and throwing popcorn boxes and drink cups at us. One elderly pair of ladies was at ringside, calling out at us with language that belonged to a drill sergeant at Ft. Riley, Kansas. Mertie and Gertie Hite were there from Kansas City. They were twin diehard fans that traveled the entire territory watching us. They had to be in their late 70's then and went at least four nights a week to different arenas. Somebody said that they were pretty well to do and had nothing better to do than go and enjoy themselves.

As we climbed through the ropes, it was all that referee Richard "Rabbit Ears" Moody could due to keep the six of us apart. There were a few times when I almost got my hands on Littlebrook, but he kept ducking behind Littlebear. Littlebear just kept smiling at me and waiting for me to connect with him. That never happened till the match was underway.

Angus and Rufus started the match out and were beating the heck out of each other when Angus, in a fit of rampage, decided that he had had enough, grabbed Rufus, and threw him into the corner where we were. Roger Kirby and I started hitting and choking him, and it drew Littlebear and Littlebrook into the ring to save their buddy. I grabbed Littlebrook and hit him with all the might I had, knocking him out of the ring and onto the cement floor. I then turned back and began hitting on Rufus again, but that didn't last too long before I was running around the ring trying to keep from being beaten up by Littlebear, who had grabbed me from behind. I managed to keep away from him.

At around the 15-minute mark, Littlebear had tagged in Littlebrook, who tried to put the cover on Angus, who had been knocked groggy in a criss-cross on the ropes. Angus came to just as Moody's arm was coming down for the three count, and pushed the midget off his chest. He then reached out and tagged me in. The fans went absolutely berserk, thinking that I was going to get mine.

To make matters even better for me, Angus picked up Littlebrook and threw him into the turnbuckles on the opposite side of the ring, away from his corner. Then, he went and picked up the limp body of the midget superstar and gave him a one handed suplex over his shoulder. Then, he bodyslammed him.

I jumped on the frame of the little guy and the referee started his count---1---2---and, suddenly, I'm airborne. Somehow, this little mite had gotten the stamina to throw me off his shoulders. I landed with a thud on the other side of the ring and started to get up. I was grabbed by what I thought was Littlebear's vise-like hands on my wrists---wrong! It was Littlebrook---the midget---what a grip this little guy had.

He threw me into the far ropes, and when I came off, he was waiting and back dropped me into the far side of the ring. He then picked me up and bodyslammed me, not once, but twice. Angus and Kirby were trying to get into the ring to save me, but Rufus and Littlebear were keeping them out by luring them onto the arena floor.

Littlebrook grabbed my feet as I was lying on the mat on my back, picked me up off the mat, and began a Giant Swing---which was a favorite move he used to win matches against midgets. I saw lights going round and round, and then---THUD---I hit the mat. Littlebrook jumped on my chest and bit into my left arm when he was pinning me for a three count, and then he said in a high pitched voice, "Your a tasty snack for the World's Champion Midget Wrestler---and that's me, governor."

The match was over, and I was so humiliated that I wanted to cry right there in the middle of the ring. Angus and Kirby changed my mind about that by jumping into the ring and, once again, attacking Littlebrook and leaving him in a crumpled mess in the middle of the ring. They then fought off Rufus and Littlebear and left them on the concrete, with fans standing over them trying to help.

We may have lost the match, but we won the war. Roger Littlebrook never was involved in another one of our matches---nor were any other midgets.

Roger Littlebrook is retired from the business and living a comfortable, safe, secure life in St. Joseph, Missouri.

My advice, sir---stay that way...