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My Friend Cam



The shot fades in on a shot of Nate Logan, clad in a pair of jeans and a PLR t-shirt, standing in front of a brick wall with the letters "PLR" airbrushed on it in red.

Logan draws out a long smirk, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, looking into the camera.

Logan: You know, this really is a peculiar business in which we compete. The physicality, the travel, and most of all...you never know just who you're going to run into.

Nate tilts his head, still looking into the camera.

Logan: A year or so ago, I had this friend, let's call him...Cam. Now Cam and I were working in the same promotion-- I'll give you three guesses which one it was-- and I can't say I was the most popular person in the back. I can however say the exact opposite. So this guy Cam comes along, and starts bein' friendly. A lifetime of being an outcast gives you this sixth sense about people's intentions, and man was it ringing. But I say, what the hell, this guy seems pretty cool. So we get to hanging out, and we become friends. I call Cam, Cam calls me, we cruise around-- no pun intended-- buddy stuff.

Logan lets a small snort of bitter laughter slip out, shaking his head.

Logan: Then I get this...injury, right? I'm...out of town...getting better for a while, and when I come back to see my good buddy Cam...what's this? He's vanished? No phone call, no get-well-card, no consolation stripper...nothin'. Good friend, this Cam guy.

Nate steels his face, glaring into the camera.

Logan:: Whatever...issues...we might have had in the past, Cruise, it doesn't matter. Because this is a whole new ballpark. And while I may be learning the ropes around here...don't even try and treat me like a rookie. Because if you do...on Primetime...YOU will be in for a "Reality Check" that you just...won't...like.

Fade to black...


I spoil things.
Jan 1, 2000
Merced, California USA
a blast from the past....

(Hope this is still okay to count, I know that the RP deadline is friday, but this is as soon as I could get online.)

(fadein, Jacksonville, NC, The porch of Cruise's Summer home. Out walks Cruise, at first oblivious to the cameras but then realization hits as he picks up the mail.)

CC: Well, it just don't stop does it? Even on Labor day weekend, you people can't stay away? Fine, gimmie a minute, come on in.

(fade out, and then into Cruise's house, more along the lines of his den. Cruise is sitting down in a lounge chair, black pants with a shirt that says "wrestling is life....", and runs his hands through his hair, brushing out hair from his face.)

CC: Looky-looky, who called the bookie? Nate Logan. Federation-claimed best Telivision champion of it's history.

In the CSW--freakin'-A.

What kept ya Nate? Couldn't have been competition, 'cause frankly, it seems that alotta the comp over there is gunning for belts, leaving alotta guys open for a good ol' fashioned one-on-one match.

I know about the injury, but if that's your excuse, I don't wanna hear it. You break an arm, you still gots two feet to walk on right? Uh huh.

(Cruise shakes it off)

That all aside, you're here now, and you're running around with a drunk and lord-knows-what else, tryin' to bring out a dead circle from back when everything was PURE, not infatuated with POISON.

You're back and now you're cryin' about back when we were on the same side and how we use to go out after work and check out the ladies' and go pull a Scott Seeley every now and again. Then I left. I left, and you were all by yourself tryin' to fend off Mr. Leprechaun fifteen times a week, and started to have trouble.

It's called a vacation, Nate. Plain and simple. The boss thought that I could use it, and told me to come back when I was ready to beat some a**. And ya know what Nate, to be completely honest with you, I'm glad I did, because if I didn't, FATE....wouldn't have given me this....(wiggles his engagement-ring finger).

As far as issues (smirks), if you think I have beef with you, you're missin' the boat pal. I just want an old-fashioned man-on-man-straight-up-old school match.

(Cruise leans forward a minute)

If you can't handle that by yourself, then maybe that neck injury you got last year is worse than I thought.

(Cruise sits back once more)

I'll tell you one thing though Mr. Happy-go-lucky....you keep goin' the way you're goin' and you won't get a reality check....oh no.

You'll just get knocked DA F*** out.

Chew on that.


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