TSiegel
I spoil things.
(In Jacksonville, North Carolina, we open to an empty nite club called "Benny's". A janitor is mopping the floor in the back while the bartender tends to wiping up the bar. The camera gradually pans in closer as a couple of Marines help each other pick themselves up of the near table to head out. The camera then pans over to the bar where Cameron Cruise sits with his arms folded across the bar. The bartender seeing his condition worsen, walks over.
B: Sorry Cameron, I'm getting ready to shut it down for the nite.
CC: Sure man? I was just gonna have one more and then a last one to take with?
B: I dunno man. You look like you've just lost an old teddy bear to me. I dunno if its gonna do ya any good.
CC: Well, if you knew what I knew right now....bah...youu don't wanna hear this crap.
B: Honestly, Cameron, I've pretty much heard it all, with all the military guys that come in during the week. I woulda thought that you'd be happy with the shot you got.
CC: Well, its not really that that I'm worried about. I mean, the crap I pulled the other nite on Sean Stevens--
B: Pretty classic if ya ask me...
CC:....was..DAMNIT MAN! I'm tellin' you my problems and you pull comments like youre Sammy friggin' Benson himself!
B: Sorry, pal. Old habit with the Army. Go ahead.
CC: Thanks. I dunno, I guess I feel like Powers sometimes. I get put on a pedestal sometimes only to get screwed over. The other nite in Missouri, I let my personal aggression take over and went too far. I don't need chairs to beat anyone and I brought the chair out on Sean.
B: Hey, man, (bleep) happens.
CC: No...man, not with me.
(Cruise stands up from the bar stool.)
CC: I don't base my matches on the fact that (bleep) happens!
(Cruise's voice gradually raises and starts to yell)
CC: I don't *need* a chair to kick Mikey Plett's butt to prove my skill to him. I don't *need* a chair to beat the (mocking) unholiness outta Poe. As a matter of fact, I've never even faced Shane Southern, but I'm not exactly phased by the fact that he beat Evan Aho for the belt. He's the Greensboro champion. Whoop-de-DAMN-DO! Evan's the WORLD CHAMPION for cripes' sake. He's got a damn 20-pound belt that I've been dreaming on capturing for 5-6 years now, and hes been here less than that. Guess what that means about Shane? Take a wild guess! and Tom Adler?!?!
(Cruise stops for a minute and calms down)
CC: Well...technically I didn't beat him in my only shot at him, BUTTHATDOESN'T MEANCRAP! He didn't beat me and I took him to his limit--LITERALLY. I've got the skills and ability to beat ANYONE IN THIS DAMN LEAGUE (slamming down his beer)!
B: So why are you so sad?
CC: (being 'brought back to earth' he sits back down and puts his head in his hands) Damn, you sure know how to ruin a moment, pal.
(Cruise downs the rest of his beer and slowly saunter out, head hung)
Fade
B: Sorry Cameron, I'm getting ready to shut it down for the nite.
CC: Sure man? I was just gonna have one more and then a last one to take with?
B: I dunno man. You look like you've just lost an old teddy bear to me. I dunno if its gonna do ya any good.
CC: Well, if you knew what I knew right now....bah...youu don't wanna hear this crap.
B: Honestly, Cameron, I've pretty much heard it all, with all the military guys that come in during the week. I woulda thought that you'd be happy with the shot you got.
CC: Well, its not really that that I'm worried about. I mean, the crap I pulled the other nite on Sean Stevens--
B: Pretty classic if ya ask me...
CC:....was..DAMNIT MAN! I'm tellin' you my problems and you pull comments like youre Sammy friggin' Benson himself!
B: Sorry, pal. Old habit with the Army. Go ahead.
CC: Thanks. I dunno, I guess I feel like Powers sometimes. I get put on a pedestal sometimes only to get screwed over. The other nite in Missouri, I let my personal aggression take over and went too far. I don't need chairs to beat anyone and I brought the chair out on Sean.
B: Hey, man, (bleep) happens.
CC: No...man, not with me.
(Cruise stands up from the bar stool.)
CC: I don't base my matches on the fact that (bleep) happens!
(Cruise's voice gradually raises and starts to yell)
CC: I don't *need* a chair to kick Mikey Plett's butt to prove my skill to him. I don't *need* a chair to beat the (mocking) unholiness outta Poe. As a matter of fact, I've never even faced Shane Southern, but I'm not exactly phased by the fact that he beat Evan Aho for the belt. He's the Greensboro champion. Whoop-de-DAMN-DO! Evan's the WORLD CHAMPION for cripes' sake. He's got a damn 20-pound belt that I've been dreaming on capturing for 5-6 years now, and hes been here less than that. Guess what that means about Shane? Take a wild guess! and Tom Adler?!?!
(Cruise stops for a minute and calms down)
CC: Well...technically I didn't beat him in my only shot at him, BUTTHATDOESN'T MEANCRAP! He didn't beat me and I took him to his limit--LITERALLY. I've got the skills and ability to beat ANYONE IN THIS DAMN LEAGUE (slamming down his beer)!
B: So why are you so sad?
CC: (being 'brought back to earth' he sits back down and puts his head in his hands) Damn, you sure know how to ruin a moment, pal.
(Cruise downs the rest of his beer and slowly saunter out, head hung)
Fade