♫♫♫ ♫♫♫ ♫♫♫
I go cray on the pad like a kiddy book
These lines connectin' dots to make pictures, look
A splif a kush and a beat looped - the page become a vessel for my ego to speak through
I'm the machine who... process thoughts at twice the speed used by Deep Blue
I'm real dif'rent
I'm ill... fittin' this material got 'em all over me like a cheap suit, sweatin' me like a steam room
Yeah I'm well known to rock a beat, for a proper fee... I'm coin operated like slot machines
In the ring there no stoppin' me, each week I went through body after body like Quantum Leap
♫♫♫ ♫♫♫ ♫♫♫
Location: Skrabals Motel Room, Lafayette, Lousiana
Date: December 3rd 2019
Time: 2:05AM
The picture is unsteady as the video begins but we see the MHW Ultimate Champion Skrabal Stanzas sitting back on the brown leather sofa in his motel room with his MHW Ultimate Championship in his lap and his retired MHW Phoenix Championship perched atop the sofa's backrest. Skrabal, appearing to be deep in thought, takes a long, slow draw on the joint that he holds in his right hand as his eyes slowly scan the room.
The picture continues to bounce around as the person holding the camera moves backwards, the sound of a toe being stubbed against a table leg is heard, quickly followed by a female voice letting out an expletive as the camera drops to the floor. A view of the ceiling consumes the screen momentarily before a dark haired female appears, she leans over towards the phone, her right held arm across her chest covering her otherwise exposed breasts as she picks up Skrabal's phone.
The view changes rapidly as she fumbles with the phone, from floor, to wall, to ceiling, all in the space of a second. Eventually she lowers the phone on to an unseen surface, stabilizing it with it's lens pointing directly at Skrabal.
“Five hundred and ten days fam.”
He clicks his fingers and points off to the side out of view.
“That be a long time ya nah, think a all the changes that done took place in that time. I ain't 'bout to list 'em for ya man told you to think, dwell on it for a second or two, shit how ever long it take ya I ain't goin' nowhere.”
The dark haired female enters the scene from the direction Skrabal pointed in. She hands him a bottle of beer and leans towards him for a kiss. Skrabal puts his hand up and moves away from her slightly then brings the beer to his mouth and takes a drink. The female exits the cameras view slowly, looking at Skrabal over her shoulder as she does.
“Ya thought a some? I ain't nah if they be from ya personal lives or they be work related, shit wit' the way some a ya talk man ain't be surprised if first ting to pop up in ya heads be on some political bullshit but there bound to be a whole bunch a changes floodin' ya brain space coz we talkin' a long period a time... Five hundred and ten days innit, man already said it. There be suttin' that ain't changed at all in that time too, suttin' that remain constant throughout the chaos. What that be though?”
He looks into the camera smugly, and is if he is genuinely awaiting a response.
“Five hundred and ten days ago, July eleventh, twenty eighteen man like Skrabz walked outta that Talkin' Stick Arena wit' the Mi' High Ultimate Championship in his hand and he still sit here today holdin' it.”
He glances down at the glistening gold MHW Ultimate Championship in his lap, the takes a couple of quick tokes on his joint.
“Man has seen the tweets, checked the tings, heard the jokes innit. What they sayin' though?... They be on that old played out John Cena shit, talkin' bout el oh el Skrabz wins... Yeah, you fuckin' right fam, true story, man does that still. They try change it, plenty of 'em done stepped up to get slapped down, Solomon Cain, Bullet, Bandit, Samantha Hamilton, Azurine Vebbins... Chris Mosh, shit even gyal like Tyke Index. Yeah, the list read like a who's who a has-beens and never-weres...
He trails off then shakes his head subtly before finishing the rest of the beer,.
"How it feel fam? Two years ago man like Skrabz be a nobody and now he sat here callin' so called legends in the scene washed up and true say he persuasive wit' it too. Plus I got the credentials to back e'ry word that leave my lips.”
He pauses for a second then continues.
“Coz I been on the rise from the time this was founded at
Threw Tyke from The Summit and stomped his Coke Mountain flat!”
His smug expression lingers on the camera.
“Yeah, she gone now. Nah, I'm a stop misgenderin' him innit, before the twitter warriors sprain a finger or two. Tyke index a male, I mean he effeminate as fuck and he real quick to catch feelin's but he a male , jus' to clear it up for ya. But he gone now, quad injury or bruised ego innit, one a the two and to be real witchu I ain't sure which one it be but fact is he say he gone till next year, twenty twenty... Fam you could go catch yaself another ten stretch, come back in twenty thirty and man like Skrabz gonna be waiting right here at the top when you get back.”
The slender arm of the dark haired femal extends into the frame, a fresh bottle of beer clutched in her hand. Skrabal takes the beer from her grasp without adjusting his gaze.
“Oh but that's bad for bidness innit Ricky? S'what Stanton been sayin'... I'm a tell ya one time blad, I ain't care what ya name is you ain't pretty enough to be ridin' my dick the way you been doin'.”
A look of disdain flashes across his face. He takes a long drink from the bottle, consuming over half of the amber liquid contained within.
“Five hundred and ten days with the strap, headlined e'ry major event Mi' High put on, sold 'em all out wit' my name pon the top a the flier. But I be bad for bidness?... Nah, bun that! I'm a tell ya what be bad for bidness though, one time, on the level.”
He finishes the beer and drops the bottle on the floor where it lands with a thud.
“What's bad for bidness is a part time ten year vet who only feel to the put the work in come pay per view pay packet season. He got us bi-weekly workers out here puttin' in the hard graft and he jus' turn up for the big shows, rest a the time he sat behind a desk pushin' pens and agendas or whinin' about em and ems... That shit be too corny fam, I mean how you ten years deep and only ting ya known for is beefin' wit' some chocolate... And that shit recent too, where the fuck your legacy at?”
The slender arm weaves it's way back into the shot, again it's hand clutches a bottle of beer that is quickly accepted by the MHW Ultimate Champion.
“Em and ems fam... That's good bidness is it? Shit it may be, coz you gotta be seein' some nice revenue for ya constant product placement...”
Skrabal downs the beer then relights his joint and takes a few quick tokes. The slender arm reaches back into the frame, attempting to take the joint from Skrabal possession but instead he hands her the empty beer bottle.
“Ten years deep fam, a decade, and you out here doin' what? Beggin' for a repeat a that Montreal bullshit? You should be embarrassed for real, what the fuck is that blad? I mean man like Skrabz been puttin' in the work and you earnin' off it too. You run the network innit, and you ain't have a prollem wit' dippin' ya fingers in that community chest I been fillin' but now you out here demandin' a chance card on some advance directly to the top, if you pass Skrabz collect the big strap on the way bullshit... ”
He pauses for a second then continues.
“That's coz in the ring ya nah nobody stoppin'
I own that square like I'm playin' monolopy”
Again his smug expression lingers on the camera, his eyes piercing seemingly piercing the screen.
“But I nah exactly what you doin' and I'm a tell ya right now it ain't gonna work. What ya think I'm a tell ya we can settle it in the ring? Nah, man like Skrabz ain't a bitch and you ain't gonna neg me into doin' what you want me to do. I'm a hold frame, give you that hard nex' and tell ya if that's what ya want you gonna have to ask real nice. I'm a need a pretty Ricky please wit' a red em and em on top jus' to consider it. Coz on the real you ain't worth walkin' down the ramp for.”
He relights his joint again and takes few quick fire tokes in rapid succession.
“Speakin' a people who ain't worth walkin' down the ramp for... How ya say it? Merako? Maracas? Nah, that's the rattle tings innit, man a remember those from music lessons. Shit I be soundin' real ignant right now... Muriko, that's it. I prolly done fucked up the pronunciation but only Japanese man ever got his mouth 'round before be some raw fish and I talkin' 'bout Sushi... But I nah who she be. She one a those Ihari sisters, I'm a be real though I ain't nah which one she is... Hold up, relax ya twitter fingers, go back to sleep warriors coz it ain't some they all look the same to me shit, I jus' ain't be paying attention...”
He laughs arrogantly before continuing.
“I'm jus' fuckin' witchu fam, I nah who you be don't worry... If ya ask me ya sister getting' injured be the best ting that happen to ya, kinda. I mean you ain't need me to tell ya she been holdin' you back coz I see the resentment in ya each and e'ry time you look in her direction and for real I ain't blame ya coz she been dead weight since you carried her through the door. It be a blessin' and a curse though, coz now you get to go it alone only you 'bout to find out you were a whole lot safer doin' the tag ting, coz man like Skrabz ain't do the tag ting.”
He takes another long, slow draw on his joint, his eyes locked on the camera throughout.
“Your tag run real strong though I can't deny it. You been through 'em all, blew those Maximum Dynamite dudes out like some birthday candles, but your singles run a non-starter. You ain't even gonna get out the gate fam, trust. I'm a throw a chain and padlock 'round it and throw away the key jus' coz it's what I do plus your association wit' Jansen and that foolishness the seven a you pulled at Black Magic jus' be addin' to ya problems. So once I get done puttin' you down like e'ryone who stood up before you I'm a send ya to the back wit' a message for Jansen and the rest of 'em. You go to the back and tell 'em man like Skrabz ain't been hidin' from Jansen Myrrh or nobody else. This ain't no where's Wally shit, nah hold up you call him Waldo innit, maybe not you coz you Japanese but the 'Mericans do... Point is man like Skrabz ain't hard to find, jus' look for the gold glistenin' and there I be... Or shit maybe this time I'm a go lookin' for Jansen, she easy to find too only dif'rence is she got a bag a man to hide behind so if I have to do what those Maidens couldn't and take each and e'ry one a The Coven out jus' to get to her then I'm a do it wit' no hesitation."
He laughs slightly and shakes his head, an exaggerated look of concern settles on his face.
"Yeah they gonna tell me I'm bitin' off more than I can chew. The numbers game too strong, Coven too deep... Skrabz gonna have to bring those Bricky Boyz back to level the playin' field"
The exaggerated look of concern vanishes instantly.
"Why coz it be seven against one?"
He lowers his brow.
"And what blad? You know who I be innit.... All seven a them against man like Skrabz?"
A smug smile creeps across his face.
"That sound like a fair fight to me fam."
The picture becomes unsteady again as the phone is lifted from whatever surface it was resting on and the video ends.
