Sunday, May 30, 2021
Magness Arena
Denver, Colorado
The crowd remained split in their reaction as Skrabz made his way to the back. Some fans leaned over the railing, extending their arms out hoping for a fist bump or a high five, others flipped Skrabz off as he walked by. A few called his name, desperate for him to notice them while others expressed opinions in line with Robert Mack's, telling Skrabz in no uncertain terms that they didn't want him back either.
Skrabz glanced around as he walked passed them and it didn't matter if they were for or against him, he looked at them all the same. With contempt.
He walked through the curtain into the backstage area and grabbed a bottle of water from a nearby table. As he twisted the top of off he was quickly approached by former MHW wrestler and current interviewer Abi Rose.
"Skrabz, congratulations on your win. How does it feel to be back?"
"It's comfy fam."
"What do you think of Robert Mack's officiating during your match with Eavan Maloney?"
"That shit be embarrassin', for real."
"And what are you plans going forward during the third season of Mile High Wrestling?"
"Catch the dub and raise the strap."
"Robert Mack might have something to say about that."
"Yeah prolly, anyway I'mma go grab a shower and watch this main event, see who walkin' out wit' the big strap. Ya can join me if you want."
"I'm sorry, what? Join you for a shower?"
"Nah, I mean yeah if that be whatchu want but man was talkin' about watchin' that Bullet Leah ting."
"Oh err... No, I'm good."
"No worries fam, man'll see you around innit."
Abi stood and watched as Skrabal turned and walked away, drinking from his bottle of water as he headed towards his room.
The greedy ogre, eatin' the mediocre
Feastin' on a scene teemin' wit' neeks an' posers
Raw speech wrote on a four leaf clover
Wit' venom like the fore-teeth a fourteen cobras
War composer, owner of a shattered mind
Piece to gather shrapnel that do damage to the asinine
This a battle cry ballad for they flaccid minds
A lone wolf to a pack a lies, the passionless get pacified
Skrabal's Motel Room
Denver, Colorado
June 10th 2021
Skrabal sits on the brown sofa in his cheap motel room with a bottle of beer in his right hand. He sits on the edge of his seat, his head held low and his gaze set on the floor in front of him.
"Before man say anythin’ else I feel I should apologize on behalf a the Bossman… "
He shuffles slightly in his seat.
"I told him ya nah. I said to him, play ya position fam, count the three and don’t ya do nuttin’ else but he ain’t listen. You know how he be lately , all emotional an’ shit."
He takes a quick drink of his beer, followed by a deep breath.
"So Eavan... I apologize, on his behalf. "
His gaze remains set on the floor as he continues.
"I’m sorry he done made you look like such a mook through his actions."
Suddenly he snaps his head up, locking his eyes on the camera.
"Coz that was my job!"
He says with venom before laughing arrogantly. A slender, tattoo covered arm reaches into the shot, passing Skrabal a freshly rolled joint. He lights it and take a deep toke.
"I was asked a question innit. What was the question though?"
He sighs before continuing.
“Who you gonna be, Skrabz, when you no longer the Ultimate Champion?”
He shakes his head.
"You know who said that shit?"
He shakes his head again as he takes a toke on his joint.
"Those words done come outta Jansen Myrrhs mouth. Yeah, she posed the question way back when, over a year ago, stood outside that Oh Two Arena in man’s city. At the time I took the shit as an empty threat, waved it off wit’ an eye roll but then then news break that Mi’ High shuttin’ the doors and suddenly man like Skrabz not packin' the strap become a reality.
He finishes his beer and drops the empty bottle on the floor, almost instantly the same slender, tattooed arm reaches into the shot, passing him another beer.
"So what am wit'out it? How does I feel?... Well shit I still catch dubs like me, I still look like me, I still sound like me..."
he pauses and sniffs the air in dramatic fashion, turning his head from left to right and taking deep breaths.
"Shit, I still smell like me too."
He laughs again, smugly, before taking a few rapid tokes on his joint.
"Coz ain’t nuttin’ changed fam, nah. Man like Skrabz talk the talk an’ walk the walk still. Yeah he take part for the long haul and break hearts like long falls, ya feel me?"
He pauses again, letting his previous statement hang in the air for a few seconds before continuing.
"True say e’ry single of ‘em got it wrong… All this time they out there thinkin’ if they can jus’ get they hands pon the big strap, if they can jus’ get to where man was then maybe people might start lookin’ at ‘em the same way they stay lookin’ at me. Maybe they might say they name the same way they say mine, wit’ the fear attached. Butchu got it twisted, each an’ e’ry one of ya, even the Bossman himself. Coz all this time they been thinkin’ the strap make the man but fact is the man make the strap. I told ‘em all before, way back, if it ain’t Skrabz it ain’t matter and right now it ain’t Skrabz… And the Bossman say it never will be."
He shakes his head slowly, his gaze drifting from the camera then snapping back to it as he continues.
"it ain't matter fam, not at all. Coz the truth is... strap or no strap, youtube exclusive or main eventin’ live on Splat, shit we can fight in the back or scrap in the street an’ man like Skrabz stay the man to beat... And you know that shit true."
He lifts the bottle of beer to his mouth and drinks greedily, consuming half the bottle in a couple of gulps.
"Now the Bossman wanna try his luck, one on one wit' man like Skrabz… So I guess it ain’t jus’ be bidness then. Nah, he got a personal issue an’ if you ask me I’mma tell you it be fuckin’ up his mental state. He remind me of ol what’s his name… shit I still ain’t remember. They cut from the same cloth though, got that Haitch Cee Dub runnin’ deep within’ ‘em and it shows."
He finishes his second beer and drops the empty bottle on the floor.
"You wanna know why I came back?... Lemme flip it back and ask you why we even here. It ain’t spiritual ting nah, I ain’t askin’ you the meanin’a life or nuttin’ I’m talkin ‘bout Mi’ High. Why it even exist?... Why you here?... Why any of us here fam?... Truth is we only here coz tings ain’t go your way back in those Haitch Cee Dub days, Bossman couldn’t get the job done… we here coz you ain't beat Lance Mikes."
He shakes his head then takes a deep toke on his joint.
"But what be the Bossmans prollem wit' me though? You ask me I'm a tell you this... one time, one the level... I ain't got a fuckin' clue fam, not this time. Man be stumped for real. Coz when you think about the ting he be contradictin' himself wit' e'ry other word that come outta his mouth. I mean he mad at 'em for the shots he gave 'em, out here callin' the lockeroom soft an' I ain't about to disagree wit' that, but that be your locker room fam, so what the fuck kinda example you been settin' for 'em? Not a good one, coz back in those ol' Haitch Cee Dub days you be on that same shit. Cryin' an' whinin' because ya weren't good enough, so I ain't know why the fuck you been surprised that you signed nuttin' but a bunch a lil Rob Macks."
The slender, tattooed arm reaches back into the shot passing Skrabal another bottle of beer.
"But there be someone else you signed too, plucked him from obscurity an' give him a platform to do what he always knew he could."
He takes a quick drink from the bottle.
"Who that be though?"
He looks at the camera, eyebrows raised as if waiting for an answer.
"Me innit, man like Skrabz... You done gimme two chances fam, jus' two, but that's all I needed. First you sign me, then you give me a tile shot. I ain't fumble, I ain't drop the ball, nah I caught wit' both hands held it close and set off runnin' at speed and I ain't slowed my pace yet. I done did what you expected outta e'ryone else, shit I be the only one to do it... But now you mad at me? I be the one you ain't want back?... I be the one you say you ain't wanna see wit' the strap?"
He shakes his head, a look of disbelief flashes across his face momentarily before quickly being replaced with a look of determination.
"Well ain't nuttin' on this Earth can stop me, I ain't even a posse
Had a milli on my name stayed laughin' like I'm DiBase"
He stares into the camera for a second before continuing.
"Lets picture it dif'rent for a second fam, say that bounty been on someone else head, who you think gonna step up and snatch it wit'out hestiation? Me innit, man like Skrabz... And that be jus' one ting that set me apart from the rest of 'em. You put it on my head, ain't nobody want it. Like ya said they'd rather fight commentators..."
He pauses for another quick drink of beer.
"And you know why that be too. I know you remember how it went, you has to, ya memory can't be that short, nah. You remember e'ry hoop ya done hung up for me to jump through in the past blad I know you do, jus' like you remember e'ry fence you built for man to hop on over and e'ry wall ya constructed that I done charged right on through leavin' nuttin' but a big man like Skrabz shaped hole behind me. You ain't forget that fam, shit you still be eatin' off the ting I bet, shit the millyun you put on my name been earned off my name in the first place. So I know you know that despite what ya mouth say ya brain understand that it ain't matter how many you set up I'm a keep knockin' 'em down till ain't nobody left but who ever got the strap...You know it blad... And e'ry out here know it too. From the tweeters in the back to the neeks in the seats to e'ryone watchin' at home live on Splat."
He pauses briefly then continues.
"It's not jus' hype I got my stripes, you name the place I show on time
I'm John Cena, Johnny Five - I been alive since a Prototype"
He finishes his third beer and takes a long, deep toke on his joint.
"So why did man come back? Coz I worked too hard for too long to let you start again wit'out me. Mi' High your company, you own the shit but you ain't build it, nah. You got the plannin' permit, sorted the paperwork, bought the materials and laid the foundation then man like Skrabz showed up to work and laid e'ry brick in the buildin'. And I ain't about to let it crumble wit' some ol' couldn't get it done never was from the past or some new man on top, nah. That's my spot!... "
He looks into the camera, a look disgust set deep on his face.
"Butchu got an issue with me and I got one witchu too, and it ain't jus' coz you ain't want me here, nah!... I told you before Rise that ya best play ya position and count those three lil’ numbers when the time come. That shit ain’t jus’ a threat fam it be advice too, you ain’t take it though. I mean why would you? You the Bossman right? It’s what they say innit. I think they lyin’. Coz a boss remain logical innit, rationality rules an’ you runnin’ off emotion right now, all up in ya feelin’s. So I told ya play position and count those numbers and yeah you count ‘em eventually, coz I ain’t really give you a choice fam. But when man said play position he ain’t jus’ be talkin’ ‘bout you playin’ ref, nah it run deeper than that. You too shallow to see it though. But ya position ain’t in the ring dressed in those stripes, nah, your position be in the back, your position be in the office, your position’ be in the meetin’ rooms touchin’ elbows an’ kissin’ backsides an’ when man said play ya position that’s the shit I been talkin’ bout... Ya see you can run ya fingers pon the socials and talk all the shit ya want in ya lil office but when that bell ring the shit stop bein’ about you. Or it should anyway, coz what happen when it don’t fam?
He pauses as if waiting for a response, anger and disgust etched across his face.
"You embarrass yaself and anyone who ever done a days work for ya."
He sneers and shakes his head.
"So we gonna roll into that Denver arena, man like Skrabz against the Bossman, Skrabal Stanzas against Robert Mack... Coz he ain't Snakebite no more is he? Nah! He done shown recently that there ain't no bite left in him. All that remain is the snake... Well man like Skrabz bout to get on that Simpsons vibe, yeah it's whackin' day for real fam and ain't no way you slitherin' out under your own power... By the time they scrapped you off the mat I'mma be in the back, feet up, bottle popped wit' my eyes glued to the screen for that lil five way ting ya done set up. Coz if you ask me, I'mma tell you whoever walk outta that wit the dub gonna be the nex' Ultimate Champion, coz that War Queen be a lot tings fam but she ain't me and she ain't do like me."
He looks at the camera intently.
"But shit... nobody does."
He raises his joint to his mouth and takes another deep toke then exhales a cloud smoke just before the video ends.
