Slate & 10|EL Alone in a Hotel

From amongst the deepest slumbers
Like a scene straight outta tumblr
You know, with all the fanfics
Faked storylines and relationships

Xander Slate awakens, his alarm ringing
The birds outside his hotel window singing
He stretches, arms high over head
Before settling back down in his bed

With a big yawn he opens his eyes
And then much to everybody's surprise
He finds himself in bed with not a model
But with his biggest rival, the actor 10|EL

With a shriek, Slate rolls out of the bed
Against the nightstand he nearly hits his head
Meanwhile, 10|EL continues to dream
Until he's startled by another Slate scream

"What the hell are you doing here?" he cries
Holding the US title in front of his thighs
"Buenos dias, dormilon," 10|EL whispers
Stroking his mustache like a cat would its whiskers

10|EL sits up, a smile on his face
Not at all perturbed by the scene taking place
He puts a hand on the bed that Slate abandoned
A gesture that lets the champ know he is not shunned

But with a shake of the head, Slate takes a step back
The puzzle that's 10|EL he's unable to crack
In any other scenario that one could imagine
Slate would attack like a thrillseeker would a dragon

But never before has Xander Slate lived through
Getting caught off guard he had no pants or shoes
Violence is the furthest thing from 10|EL's mind
He simply wants to help the champ unwind

But around the room the champion scrambles
In search of clothes, his day in shambles
10|EL watches the entire scene unfold
Enjoying every second, truth be told

And now from the bed 10|EL attempts to rise
Halting Slate in his tracks, fear in his eyes
10|EL is fully dressed in his wrestling gear
Slate's stammers of confusion fill his ears

10|EL stands on the bed, unleashing his signature pose
Though Slate doesn't stick around to enjoy the show
He found a pair of pants, put them on in a blink
After today, he'll more than likely need a shrink

With great haste the champ runs toward the door
Almost running through, he can't take anymore
Taking the title with him, Slate doesn't look back
Sun's barely out and he's almost had a heart attack

With a slam shut, Slate has successfully escaped
Like a villain running from a man in a cape
Is this hotel 10|EL has been left alone
To enjoy room service, a free TV show?

Is this retaliation for Russell Pontarelli's deed?
Or was this always a trick up 10|EL's sleeve?
And if this is merely the opening act
Things will get weirder, an indisputable fact

Slate's voice echoes inside of the hallway
Shouts and outburts eventually all fade
10|EL reaches into his bedazzled vest
And pulls out a bottle from against his chest

"Victory." the container declares
Before 10|EL sprays it in the air
In come a parade of men and women
And now the fun will truly begin