Ric Bear's A Brief History of FUW


A Brief History of FUW
by Seventeen Time World Champion Ric Bear

First let me tell you about myself.  I'm seventeen time world champion
Ric Bear.  You may say to yourself, "But Ric, I've never even heard of
you."  Well, of course you haven't.  You see, when I first entered the
wrestling industry in 1938, people weren't ready for me.  My high
flying, no holds barred style simply decimated the competition.
People didn't want to see three minute, one sided matches.  They
didn't want an invincible champion.  They didn't understand topes,
planchas, and space flying tiger drops.  To put it simply, they were
scared of me and what I could do.  So it was that I was black-balled
from American wrestling for 60 years.

I didn't let it get me down, however.  I moved to Mexico and found a
crowd that could appreciate my style.  I taught the first generation
of luchadores how to wrestle.  I put Mexican wrestling on the map.  My
first eight title reigns came over a ten year period in the now
defunct Mexican Super Champion Wrestling, coming over the likes of
Tyrant de la Muerta, El Savato, and Rey Destructor.  But I grew tired
of Mexico, and their poor quality alcohol, so I moved on.  This time I
made Japan my home.  I created an even newer, more exciting style of
wrestling, which has come to be called pureosu.  It was a combination
of high flying, stiff brawling, and brutal power moves that has been
often imitated, but never duplicated.  The Japanese wrestlers I
competed with learned very quickly, and adopted the style as their
own, but not before I won seven world titles at Super Japanese
Wrestling Powerhouse.  I then won one more world title at my own ill
fated federation, the Ric Bear Pacific Wrestling Alliance.  Oh the
great matches I had with Super Sazuke, DAO-Man, and Elder Mukasai.
Twelve years in all I spent in Japan, and I felt like I'd done it
all.  I longed to return to American soil and see familiar faces and

So in 1978 I retired at the age of 40, still the greatest wrestler in
the world.  I married a lovely woman, whose name I have forgotten.
Without wrestling, however, I slipped into a cycle of booze and
depression.  My lack of renown in the United States ate at me
constantly.  After all I had done to improve professional wrestling,
few people had even heard of me.  In 1983 I even found myself in
Mexico City, wrestling for the MSCW world title in a drunken stupor
against a young up and coming kid named Black Cat "Juke" Williams.  I
was intoxicated at the time, but I managed to beat him in a forty
minute classic.  I rested on my laurels, clutching my fifteenth title
like a baby holds onto a doll, but I did not train and keep myself
fit.  Black Cat came back the next month to show me he had been
training, taking his title back in grand style.  I sank even deeper
into the whiskey bottle.

Then, in late 1997 I got a phone call from wealthy industrialist Edwin
Mann.  His family wanted to start a wrestling federation of their
own.  They needed my help.  They had contemplated just buying an
existing fed, but no league in the nation was as hardcore as what
they'd envisioned.  They needed me to find talent for them.  I was too
drunk to reply to Edwin's request, so I merely dropped the phone and
passed out on my couch.  Edwin was tenacious however, and he hired the
greatest addiction specialist in the country to come to my house and
sober me up.  Two months later, freshly sober, I set out to get Edwin
Mann his wrestlers.

I had remembered talking to an old associate of mine from SJWP, Big
Bitch Johnson, who'd been going on and on about how his grand son was
the greatest submission wrestler he'd ever seen.  So I went to San
Francisco to find "Little" Bitch Johnson.  Sure enough, he was a fine
technical wrestler, but to my surprise he was managing a tag team of a
brawler named Violent JT and my old nemesis Black Cat "Juke"
Williams.  I recruited all three.  As the Mann brothers were too
frugal to pay for a plane, we hopped a bus for Chicago.

On the way there, however, the bus was hijacked by a group of thugs in
straight jackets.  I watched as this group of mentally malfunctioning
miscreants beat the ever living hell out of the bus driver with an
amazing array of power.  I quickly offered them a place in FUW, to
which they all hastily agreed.  Apparently they'd jus escaped from an
asylum by the name of Arkham, and were eager to flee the area as fast
as possible.  So it was that Big Daddy, Scar, Skitzho Johnny Vengeance
and Mad Dawg were brought aboard.  We let Scar drive the bus the rest
of the way, as he assured us he was an excellent driver.

So I'd gotten a good group of people to start, but not enough to have
a show.  So I thought back, way back.  I remembered a man I'd met in
Mexico City in 1943.  He claimed to be a scientist who'd fled war torn
Germany.  He claimed he was trying to engineer the perfect wrestler
and he wanted to watch me in my matches and ask me questions for his
research.  Dr Ruttgard Itzelf was his name.  I found his phone number
and address, apparently some island in the south pacific, and gave him
a call.  I found out, much to my dismay, that Dr. Ruttgard Itzelf had
died many years earlier when one of his first creations had power
bombed him through a house.  The news was not all bad, as I found his
grandson, Dr. Igor Itzelf, had continued the work with great success.
The Doctor agreed to fly to Illinois to have his creations compete in
FUW.  FUW gained the services of the powerful creation number one,
Entropy, the ubiquitous creation number two, and the unstoppable
creation number four.

Edwin Mann had not been slacking while I was recruiting.  He had gone
out and found some deviants of his own who were willing to put their
bodies on the line in the new federation.  Disco Stu, a lanky fellow
who looked suspiciously like Edwin and Carlson Mann, Grunge Puppy, the
Uni-Jobber, and the Faceless Jobbers were all added to the mix.  In a
final stroke of luck we received a call from a man by the name of
Brother Dan, who wished to spread his gospel in a new way:  by
wrestling.  He brought with him the Altar Boy and Thee Anjel.  With
all the pieces in place only one thing was missing.

The one final piece of the puzzle to make FUW the perfect wrestling
federation was the commentators.  I knew just the man.  I'd had many a
drink with him in many a bar.  He had the look, the voice, and the
attitude.  "The Wifebeater" Brett Presson jumped at the chance to
commentate, if just to keep him away from his wife for a few extra
hours a week.  I, also, eagerly took the opportunity to commentate, to
keep myself close to the sport I loved so much, and had sacrificed my
life for.  I may still take the occasional shot of whiskey, but at
least I can say with confidence that I don't remember ever calling a
title belt by the wrong name, or missing a show because I couldn't
find the location.

The rest is history.  FUW started its first shows in late 1998, and
has been on a roll ever since.  An unstoppable juggernaut fueled by
the business genius of the Mann brothers, the recruiting savvy of
myself, and the incredible talent of our wrestlers.  All of this great
wrestling thanks to one man:  Seventeen Time World Champion, Ric Bear.

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FUW Wrestling Est. 1998

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