Rab #7
Oct 18, 2016 7:30:34 GMT -5
Post by David on Oct 18, 2016 7:30:34 GMT -5
The scene opens with Rab sat in a chair, in a nondescript room. Dressed in a pair of navy blue shorts and a dark grey t-shirt, he is sat leaning towards the camera.
‘I’ve bin in Los Angeles fur abit a month an' a half noo, an' life haur is definitely tae mah likin' - it’s quite a contrest tae life back haem, in Edinburgh. Th' only downside has bin 'at when it has come time fur me tae set foot inside th' rin', Ah haven’t yit bin able tae gie a win. Ah ken I’ve only hud two matches in 3GW sae far, sae mebbe Ah shooldn’t start tae worry jist yit, but Ah don’t want thes run ay losses tae go oan much longer - Ah don’t want it tae become a habit; Thursday Night Challenge takes place every two weeks, an' Ah don’t want tae gie stuck in a situation whaur Ah hae thirteen enjoyable days in LA, but 'en oan th' fourteenth day, every other Thursday, Ah gie in 'at rin', an' Ah lose - again.’
Rab then sits up straight, and smiles.
‘Sorry abit 'at. Ah ken 'at was a bit downbeat fur me, compared tae mah usual self, but it was somethin' 'at needed tae be said. Anyway, hoo ur we aw? Guid. Thes Thursday I’ll be back in action in 3GW, tryin' tae pick up mah first win, against someain who also lost each ay his first two matches in 3GW: Ethan Thompson...the second. Noo sure, Ah ken 'at originally he was awarded th' win in his match against Pedro Gonzales lest month, but as th' referee 'en reversed his decision, aw th' record books will shaw is 'at Pedro was th' winner.’
Rab rubs his chin.
‘Ye ken, I’ve heard fowk refer tae “the record books” numeroos times, but is thaur really someain who keeps a record ay th' ootcome ay every match in every wrestlin' promotion th' warld ower? Mebbe 'at coods be a new venture fur Guinness.’
Rab stares off into the distance. This continues for several seconds, and he almost seems to be in a trance like state, until he shakes himself out of it.
‘Sorry, Ah lost myself fur a moment thaur, thinkin' abit Guinness. Whaur was Ah?’
He frowns.
‘Och yeah, Ah was talkin' abit mah upcomin' match wi' Ethan Thompson...the second.’
Rab takes a breath, before continuing.
‘Thommo - can Ah caa ye Thommo?’
He pauses for a couple of seconds, as if allowing time for a response to his question.
‘Guid stuff. Thommo, Ah saw ye at th' press conference lest month, givin' it th' big “I am,” but sae far, when it has come tae th' rin', yoo’ve left a lot tae be desired.’
Rab smirks.
‘Ah appreciate th' irony ay me sayin' 'at, given 'at Ah haven’t exactly bin pullin' up trees in 3GW, but at leest Ah ken tae accept a loss th' reit way, an' nae by attackin' mah opponents efter th' beel, loch ye did tae Pedro an' Susan Kent.’
Rab stands up.
‘Weel, Thommo, if that’s hoo ye want tae dae things - if ye want tae turn thes match intae a brawl - 'en 'at is fine wi' me: if ye want a fight, I’ll gie ye a fight. If ye want tae hit me, I’ll hit ye back - harder. If ye want tae throw me, I’ll throw ye tay - further. An' if ye want tae play dirty, aw 'at will happen is 'at Ah will lift ye up, an' Ah will drap ye oan yer heed.’
Rab puts his hands on his hips.
‘Neither ay us has yit won a match in 3GW, but 'at will change oan Thursday - one ay us has tae win thes match. Weel, Ah suppose it coods end in a draw, in which case we shoods baith probably jist pack up an' go haem.’
He shrugs slightly.
‘Spikin ay “home,” whaur is haem fur ye, Thommo? Ah thooght ye waur frae New Zealain, but I’ve heard ye be annoonced as bein' frae Seattle - ur ye going through some sort ay identity crisis?’
Rab then crosses his arms.
‘As fur me, oan th' other hain, there’s nae doobtin' whaur I’m frae. I’m a prood Scot, a prood Brit, an' a fellaw exponent ay those European uppercuts ye loch tae use. An' troost me, ye haven’t truly felt th' force ay a European uppercut until yoo’ve bin oan th' receivin' end ay one at th' hans ay someain who is actually European - yoo’ll gie tae experience 'at oan Thursday evening, Thommo, when Ah start tae turn roon mah fortunes in 3GW.’
With Rab staring towards the camera, the scene fades to black.
Click here for the English version.
‘I’ve bin in Los Angeles fur abit a month an' a half noo, an' life haur is definitely tae mah likin' - it’s quite a contrest tae life back haem, in Edinburgh. Th' only downside has bin 'at when it has come time fur me tae set foot inside th' rin', Ah haven’t yit bin able tae gie a win. Ah ken I’ve only hud two matches in 3GW sae far, sae mebbe Ah shooldn’t start tae worry jist yit, but Ah don’t want thes run ay losses tae go oan much longer - Ah don’t want it tae become a habit; Thursday Night Challenge takes place every two weeks, an' Ah don’t want tae gie stuck in a situation whaur Ah hae thirteen enjoyable days in LA, but 'en oan th' fourteenth day, every other Thursday, Ah gie in 'at rin', an' Ah lose - again.’
Rab then sits up straight, and smiles.
‘Sorry abit 'at. Ah ken 'at was a bit downbeat fur me, compared tae mah usual self, but it was somethin' 'at needed tae be said. Anyway, hoo ur we aw? Guid. Thes Thursday I’ll be back in action in 3GW, tryin' tae pick up mah first win, against someain who also lost each ay his first two matches in 3GW: Ethan Thompson...the second. Noo sure, Ah ken 'at originally he was awarded th' win in his match against Pedro Gonzales lest month, but as th' referee 'en reversed his decision, aw th' record books will shaw is 'at Pedro was th' winner.’
Rab rubs his chin.
‘Ye ken, I’ve heard fowk refer tae “the record books” numeroos times, but is thaur really someain who keeps a record ay th' ootcome ay every match in every wrestlin' promotion th' warld ower? Mebbe 'at coods be a new venture fur Guinness.’
Rab stares off into the distance. This continues for several seconds, and he almost seems to be in a trance like state, until he shakes himself out of it.
‘Sorry, Ah lost myself fur a moment thaur, thinkin' abit Guinness. Whaur was Ah?’
He frowns.
‘Och yeah, Ah was talkin' abit mah upcomin' match wi' Ethan Thompson...the second.’
Rab takes a breath, before continuing.
‘Thommo - can Ah caa ye Thommo?’
He pauses for a couple of seconds, as if allowing time for a response to his question.
‘Guid stuff. Thommo, Ah saw ye at th' press conference lest month, givin' it th' big “I am,” but sae far, when it has come tae th' rin', yoo’ve left a lot tae be desired.’
Rab smirks.
‘Ah appreciate th' irony ay me sayin' 'at, given 'at Ah haven’t exactly bin pullin' up trees in 3GW, but at leest Ah ken tae accept a loss th' reit way, an' nae by attackin' mah opponents efter th' beel, loch ye did tae Pedro an' Susan Kent.’
Rab stands up.
‘Weel, Thommo, if that’s hoo ye want tae dae things - if ye want tae turn thes match intae a brawl - 'en 'at is fine wi' me: if ye want a fight, I’ll gie ye a fight. If ye want tae hit me, I’ll hit ye back - harder. If ye want tae throw me, I’ll throw ye tay - further. An' if ye want tae play dirty, aw 'at will happen is 'at Ah will lift ye up, an' Ah will drap ye oan yer heed.’
Rab puts his hands on his hips.
‘Neither ay us has yit won a match in 3GW, but 'at will change oan Thursday - one ay us has tae win thes match. Weel, Ah suppose it coods end in a draw, in which case we shoods baith probably jist pack up an' go haem.’
He shrugs slightly.
‘Spikin ay “home,” whaur is haem fur ye, Thommo? Ah thooght ye waur frae New Zealain, but I’ve heard ye be annoonced as bein' frae Seattle - ur ye going through some sort ay identity crisis?’
Rab then crosses his arms.
‘As fur me, oan th' other hain, there’s nae doobtin' whaur I’m frae. I’m a prood Scot, a prood Brit, an' a fellaw exponent ay those European uppercuts ye loch tae use. An' troost me, ye haven’t truly felt th' force ay a European uppercut until yoo’ve bin oan th' receivin' end ay one at th' hans ay someain who is actually European - yoo’ll gie tae experience 'at oan Thursday evening, Thommo, when Ah start tae turn roon mah fortunes in 3GW.’
With Rab staring towards the camera, the scene fades to black.
Click here for the English version.
