CHARLOTTE, N.C. — Local punk venue The Scab is hosting a new live-streamed “unplugged” series featuring bands performing acoustic versions of their most popular songs, which has “absolutely nothing” to do with the venue’s inability to pay their electric bill during COVID-19 shutdowns, candlelit sources confirmed.
“We’re thrilled to give bands the opportunity to showcase their songs in a completely stripped-down format,” said artistic liaison Lou Gibbins while striking a match to ignite an oil lamp hanging above his desk. “Pretty cool lantern, huh? I told my staff, if the bands are going unplugged, then so are we — we’ve taped over every outlet, installed torches in the hallways, and even rigged some pyrotechnics for the shows using all these mailings and letters Duke Energy keeps sending us as fuel. And the green room is fully stocked with classic, ‘unplugged’ amenities like playing cards, dice, knitting needles, a Monopoly set with most of the pieces missing, salted meats, and a wood-fired stove for warmth. We take care of our talent.”
“Once we figure out a way to connect to the internet we will be good to go,” he added.
However, during a tech run-through, Mail Skank lead vocalist Henry “Rot” Burns grew concerned.
“We’re down with the concept; some of my favorite ’90s shit is from ‘MTV Unplugged.’ But, fuck, dude… they gave me a megaphone and told our guitarist to ‘strum extra hard,’” Burns said while tripping down a step lit by a dying glowstick. “How is anyone even gonna see us? Look up at the stage lights — it’s, like, a dozen flashlights lashed together with twine. How is that going to work? Does this place even have power? The camera they planned on using to film the event is just an iPod, not an iPhone, an iPod. I don’t think it actually has the ability to film anything.”
Outside of the venue, Duke Energy billing clerk Darron Fields stomped around the parking lot while yelling at The Scab.
“I see the candelabra blazing in the second story window — I know you’re in there!” Fields screamed at the dark, abandoned-seeming venue. “You owe us nine grand, Gibbins. We’ve called. We’ve sent emails. I drag my sorry ass out here, and you pull this Miss Havisham shit? Your FICO is fucked, Gibbins! Fucked!”
At press time, Gibbins was reportedly seen on horseback, riding due east towards a turnip field to pick up lunch for the band.