Our Tommy Drake scene opens in all places on the actual Tommy Drake farm, a wide shot of the long gravel drive way. It's a perching view from a tree as slowly we can see turning into it is a recognizable Low Rider Truck, the shock drops kick in as it bounces, the incredible sound system build into it blaring 50 cent "Patiently Waiting". The window's are down on the fine Minnesota day, the sun high in the sky and the temperature is mid 70's. The drive is easily recognizable as non other then the Certified Badass himself, Tommy Drake. Slowly he pulls up to the house. It appears of an old design, and two floors, a top floor and a basement that can be seen by running down one of the nearby hills on the side of the hill. The grass is finely mowed, the smell of fresh grass prominent as slowly the shock drops stop, the purr of the engine dieing down as the car is turned off. We go to a side shot from the driver's seat of the car, looking at Tommy, who's pulling out his key's and opening the door as he steps out. He's casually adorned in white "Outlaw Wrestling" T-shirt, the front displaying the logo and the back showing the logo of Saturday Night Stampede, a running horse with the word's trailing it. He's also wearing some jinco khaki's shorts, with many of pockets, his K-Swiss tennis shoes and a John Deer hat facing forward. He looks about, a grin across his face as he was home once again.
Tommy: "Home sweet home."
I wish is was home...I begin to burst into tears...
Tommy: "C'mon man! Don't cry. I mean your only 40 minutes away from your parent's house right?"
But my parents are dead!
Tommy: "Oh. Well I'm sure those country folks T3 visited would be happy to adopt a divorced a fat, 45 year old man who's wife is a trucker and children are in college."
Really? Tommy gives a confident grin as he slowly begins to walk up to the door of his house. Lightly turning the handle as he turns back to the camera.
Tommy: "Your my homie, kind of like those gangsters that shot me for blaring the Shaft theme song. Now get back to work."
Thanks dawg! Err...or would it be T-Dawg? Not sure. Point aside, Tommy opens the door and steps inside the house. We are welcome with the sweet sound of silence. It appears to be a not so lavish as if comfortable living room. To Tommy's left and extending 15 feet from him is the wall, you know those things that provide shelter for the house. Along it are pictures of the Tommy Drake family, which include a younger Tommy, his brother Robert, and his parents wedding. Along that wall is their entertainment system, loaded with VCR, 32 inch tv, satellite receiver, and his sound system. To his left is a big opening leading into the dining room, kitchen and bedrooms and the various couches and chairs. Tommy grins as he looks about, taking his shoes off as he slowly paces around the room.
Tommy: "You know, they say there's nothing better like coming home. Then some other people say home is where the heart is. And frankly if I were to leave my heart here, I'd be a cold, sick bastard who'd in reality die. Ok, that joke aside I must say with a little ingenuity the CCW has granted me with a match. But not just a special match, a 4 way dance or something. I don't know? Might as well get to work. You see these three other guys, they're skilled. They've got the ring talents, even if I doubt this Rotten fellow. I mean c'mon! If your jealous of my awesome microphone skills and rap talents you go at least be honest and stop saying that your putting the fans out their misery. I mean I may sound cocky but when a full house of wrestling fans are cheering me on when I'm rapping or kicking ass they can't be wrong. And by the way, Gangsta rap started in the mid 80's, hip hop started late 70's. Get it right Rotten. Rotten, that's an appropriate name. I mean I really hope you weren't born with that name, that's just embarrassing. I mean it's just ironic how your last name describes your skills."
Tommy smiles as he slowly paces into his kitchen, eyeing the note as I read it Aloud..
Hey hun, how are you? Heard you were stopping buy today but Dad's out in the field and I had to run get groceries. Your brother's at baseball practice so if you could pick him up that'd be great.
Tommy grins as he begins to raid his fridge, various drinks sorted about including gatorade, Heineken, and various others. Tommy reaches in, grabbing some bread, lettuce, turkey, cheese and a gatorade as he sets them on the counter, beginning to talk to the camera, his eyes focused on his food.
Tommy: "And now we have Too Trancey Twoey. T3, you seem like a pretty cool guy. I mean your obviously ring impressive and you give a damn about the entertainment. But you see T, there's a bit of a problem, a certain bone to pick with you, and it's not your funny bone, because trust me, you lack that. Your attempt at humiliating comedy was good, but nothing note worthy. I mean c'mon, who the hell do you think you are, a Simply Thrilling Dude...wait, never mind."
Tommy casually finishes his large Turkey, Cheese and lettuce sandwich, grabbing it as he takes a large bite out of it, chewing it thoroughly as he just grins, not showing exactly the highest level of manners, a bit of the lettuce slipping out of his mouth as it drops onto the kitchen counter. Tommy swallows down his bite as he opens a kitchen cabinet, pulling out a paper plate as he puts the sandwich he's holding in his left hand down on it as he wipes the kitchen counter and grabs his original gatorade and sandwich, taking it into the living room as he sets them on the nearby coffee table. He grins, digging his back into the chair, getting comfortable as he looks to the camera in front of him and smiles.
Tommy: "You see among all your jibber jabber you've forgot a few things. I'm a certified badass and the fact that I'm the most charismatic man in CCW. You see you can diss my rap as much as you want, you can claim I'll face the music until the sun shines no longer, but It won't make that much of a difference. Your frankly one of the many clones around these place. A cocky, fun loving high flyer who doesn't appreciate my attitude, and my raps. Sure, I fit the role a little, but the difference between us T3 is that I'm a winner. I mean you can't really deny it. Go rent a wrestling tape of all my matches. I'm sure someone compiled the best of Tommy Drake. My entranced adversary, I'm a juggernaught. I shouldn't have to tell you twice. But I'm merely going to let you believe what your T3 mind want's to believe. I mean it's no use trying to crush your dream. For all I really know you could actually give me a run for my money. I'm not putting that option out of the question."
Tommy grabs his gatorade, spinning the cap off and pealing off the seal, taking a big gulp down, the lemon lime taste just tingling his taste buds as he lets out a classic "ahh". He takes a bite out of his sandwich, chewing it up and gulping it down as he coughs, patting his heart as he chokes for a moment and then gives a little grin.
Tommy: "Eh, a lil embarrassing but at least it wasn't a pretzel. T3, go ahead and have your Tribals cheer "T" as many times as they want. But when the roof is being blown off and over shadowing your Tribals "T" chants by of coarse, the Tommy Drake fans either giving a big "LET'S GO DRAY-AKE!" or a simple "CER-TIFY HIM!" then well, I guess your Trancers just aren't that supportive, since like most people, they'll join the Drake Army. But the chant's aside. TUESDAY TUESDAY TUESDAY!"
Tommy Drake's voice takes on that of those people doing the Monster Truck rally ads.
Tommy: "At the Owen Sound, ONTARIO at CCW TALENT! TOMMY DRAKE, ROTTEN, T3 and SOME OTHER GUY WILL CLASH HEADS IN A 4 WAY DANCE OF DOOM!"
A bit of dynamic crashing sounds insues out of nowhere due to promo magic.
Tommy: "BE THERE!!!...Or watch at home on your television, doesn't make too much difference. Just make sure to stay around and see T Drake bust a cap in a guy who's last name describes his talents, a guy with a bunch of Tribes man fans and some other guy...Owen's name?"
Tommy: "Owen somebody. This is The Certified Badass, Innovator of Innovation, and everyone's favorite rapper, Tommy Drake signing off...from home."
Fade to Black