Damn...I'm rusty. Wait, oh your recording! Greeting's ladies and gent's, Tommy's back in business. Our Tommy Drake scene opens up with a far off shot of Tommy Drake, rolling in his prided ford low rider truck. His left arm rests along the window sill as he drives casually, a big grin upon his face as DMX "What's my name Remix" blares loudly and with much bass. He appears to be in the midst of his home town, Minneapolis. He appears dressed in a white nike hat put around his hat backwards, a Timber wolves throw back jersey, blue jean shorts and some white K-swiss shirts. He pays little attention to the camera as he slowly begins to turn off into an alley, the walls decorated with some graffiti as he parks right by a small door. Quickly the blaring music and engine stop with a turn of the key. He quickly opens the door, slowly stepping out of the car with a grin upon his face as he turns to face the camera as he walks towards the read end of the bed of his truck.
Tommy: "In the wise words of Snoop Dogg, we were all enlightened by his ancient language as he told us to "sho fizzle my nizzle.' "
Tommy: "Hell yeah. I mean very few people to this day, including myself understand what that actually means, but their is a grander point to this all. He was saying something. And you see, concerning my match, after a long procrastination, I feel it's time I get off my ass and start talkin. You know, ever since my debut I've at least made if not anything, a name in this area of the WWA. I mean I've had some people talking. "Who's that high flying rapper?" they'd ask as they watch the replay of me landing T Dawg Drop one after another and certifying left and right. And then the shit hit the fan, just like it does everyday. System crash, and the "T" guy got the win over me. And I'll admit, the guy's got a talent, if not the biggest mouth this side of the border. But hey, whatever gets him places."
Tommy casually rubs his chin as he slowly saunters up to the door, not bothering to knock as he opens the door to walk inside what appears a boiler room area. Inside decorate about are the various generators, a pull up bar, and a vending machine. Tommy saunters on in, lightly head banging as he walked to some silent jams as he looked about, his arms outstretched as he took in the smell.
Tommy: "Point is folks, I'm back. And I'm going strait to the top. The innovator of innovation, everyone's favorite certified badass and the wrestling book with the hard right hook combo. But enough jibber jabber on my return. Let's get to business, detailing why I'll be the number one contender for the CCW Flyweight belt."
Tommy lets out that little smirk as he lightly looked about the boiler room, coughing slightly as he glared about in ponderment, speaking aloud.
Tommy: "First off I'm not a slouch. I mean my opponents, the great Dragon J and Jason Carter have made a reputation of being slouches, either that or this week they're scared of ole T-Drake. I mean c'mon boys! Show some balls! Speak up! We all got fears and dreams, and you can't get anything if you don't risk it man. I mean if you guys just run in to this match with out something to lose aside from the number one contendership then your frankly nothing. I'm walking into this match with something to prove to myself. I have to prove that I've still got it, and if I do, how much of it can I spare while I do my damnedest to win the match. Second reason why I'll be the number one contender for the Flyweight belt. This one's simple. By chance any of your boy's names Tommy Drake? No, they're not. Simple enough? Good."
Tommy lets out a little chuckle as he begins back pedaling a bit, eyeing a door behind him as he continues to speak. You know I'm rooting for you right Tommy?
Tommy: "Of coarse dawg!"
Good, thought I'd clarify that.
Tommy: "Glad you did. Now where was I? Oh yeah, reason three. Despite my cocky, arrogant, and self absorbed demeanor I'm not so caught up in me to not realize that I infact still have to actually win the match. I'm not sure if that actually applies for either of you, seeing as I'm not much of a Jason Carter fan. Then again I am a big fan of the Wal-Mart Monkey, and DJ when he's inebriated."
Isn't that all the time?
Tommy: "Never said I wasn't a DJ fan. Just thinking I can beat him."
Oh...ok. Are you inebriated?
Tommy: "Only on Tuesdays."
No wonder you told me to go hump a tree!
Tommy: "No, I said that because it would be a funny image."
I grumble softly as Tommy smirks and continues on.
Tommy: "Point is fellas is that I think, and keep in mind this is what I think, meaning that 90% of the CCW fan base agrees with me here, I'll be the number one contender for the Flyweight belt. Hell if things keep rolling I'll be next Flyweight champ if I want. I mean the only thing standing in the way between me and world recognition is Wal-mart monkey, some no name face, and Rune Archer...Or tax evasion. I figure the honorable thing to do is to wish you both Jason Carter and DJ good luck in your match. Now I'll do the Tommy Drake thing and cut a promo about how I'm going to win? Why you ask yourself? Because I'm Tommy Drake, and a certified badass, and your not."
It's true ya know? Tommy coughs as he rolls his shoulders out, readying to go accapella as taps his foot upon the concrete floor...
"I'm like Aerosmith in 1976
Back in the saddle and ready to rock.
T Drake rocking up the CCW mix
Ready to fly high like a certified hawk
I know what you sayin
He aint he playin
Believe that holmes
T.Drake keepin it real where ever he roams
In the end
You'll all be running in fear
So restoration can mend
My boot stomping in your rear
I hope you can count
You'll need to know when your knocked out
When I get in the mount
One two three and it's the end of the bout.
Drake grins as he walks off, the screen slowly fading to black...