Post by Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley on Jun 14, 2008 0:55:43 GMT -5
~OPEN SCENE
The scene opens to the sounds of sea-gulls squawking and carrying on around a large, public commercial shipping dock. Large barges and shipping vessels clog the marine traffic ways close to the shores. Skimming the commercial boats' hulls, the camera focuses on one large red and black ship. It's name is "Mason Madeira", below it is the home port location: Houston, TX.
The Camera zooms out and then shifts to where the shore is lonely to the shipping lanes and seems quite peaceful, untouched by crates and blue-collar workers. The lens captures one older, grayish-looking pier that appears to not have been relied upon for commercial or personal use in a while; continuing to scan the length of the pier, it zooms in to find a man leaning on one of the posts, surveying the water.
The camera angle changes as a different camera captures O'Malley from the start of the pier. O'Malley looks left, and then slowly works his way right to get a final view of the scene and then turns to face the TWD media. As he approaches the second camera and exits the pier, a newspaper can be seen in-between Tommy's left arm and his body. He stops suddenly and pulls out a pack of Marlboro's and fishes out a cig with his lips. He then searches for a lighter, but comes up short. He looks at he camera man and asks a non-verbal "Do you have a lighter?" with his eyes. The second camera man bobbles the camera as it shakes, and then an outstretched arm can be seen from the right of the camera-view with a lighter in hand. The lighter is ignited and Tommy leans over to light-up. He gives him a quick nod.
Tommy starts to scan the scene on the shores, and when he looks left, he finds what he's looking for. He takes a long drag, and then gives a lop-sided grin. Tim Hellar comes into view with a mic in hand.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: Well, Shit me bed. You did have the balls to show up'ere afterall.
Timothy Hellar: Southpaw, I apologize. It was good footage, and it happened on BKI property. My boss said I couldn't pass it up.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: Nah, Tim. I can't hold it against ye. Hell, it doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would.
Tim Hellar: If this put you in any further danger, I...
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: Me? Feck, no. I'm fine. They already burnt down my gym in Dublin over the way the fight went down against Dustin Iler. They don't have anything left to take but my life. Now you, on the other hand may be in danger after showing it on the air. You feckin' got that old bastard on national TV. He'll be pissed. I'd watch your back.
Tim Hellar pauses. He looks down at the ground in thought and then raises his brows back up to O'Malley.
Tim Hellar: Does that mean they might ki...
Tommy "Southapaw" O'Malley: Nah. They might give you a few licks. Either way, I'll see about some protection.
Tim Hellar: Shit! We're live. Um...
Tim takes a big gulp, and then refocuses on the task at hand. He raises the microphone to right below his chin. He nods to the camera-man, and then looks directly into the camera nervously.
Tommy smiles even bigger and takes a huge draw on his cigarette and holds it for a few ticks, then releases through his nose.
Tim Hellar: Tim Hellar here, along with 2007 BKI Champ, Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley. We're, a-hem, live from Trinity Bay, just right outside of Houston, Texas, and we're here to talk some wrestling.
Tim moves closer to Tommy as O'Malley leans closer to listen and answer.
Tim Hellar: There's been a little bit of talk back and forth between the participants in this weekend's TWD Showdown on June 14th at Ford Arena. Some of that talk has been directed at you. How do you prepare for a match while listening to the criticisms or off-the-cuff remarks by your peers?
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: Well, Timmy there's really not a whole lot to sample yet me friend. This federation is young, and no one really knows each other yet, besides the few of us who competed at the BKI. I've heard some buzz, but for the most part it looks like the most trash talking is coming from my former challenger, Raymond Jones. A lot of people let his reputation precede him, as many did in the TWF...
Tim Hellar: By TWF, Tommy is talking about the now defunct "Tennessee Wrestling Federation" where Rayond "Kingpin" Jones is the last title holder.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: ...But I, I really don't have a lot to say. He sees himself as a gangster--and that's fine, if you like portraying an image of what ye want others to see, thats fine. I guess that is what being a part of a business like--what is it? Juggernaut Entertainment? So I guess he just plays a gangster on TV: In the ring, outside the squared-circle, it doesn't maa'tter.
Tommy takes a draw on his cigarette as it gets closer to expiring. He flicks it down to the ground and steps on it to extinguish the ashes, and looks into the camera.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: When do you dominate? Where do you dominate?
You're a champ of a non-existent wrestling federation. When you step out of that ring, as far as I'm concerned you're just Raymond Jones. When you step into the ring, you're "just" Raymond Jones. "Just" is an interesting word for you Raymond. It could mean adjectivally "Justice", or "exactly or precisely," which is what you'd prefer: to fool people into an illusory fear of your reputation.
Or it might be more like settling for something. It might "just" mean ordinary, or less than, or merely a "has been."
Tommy smiles and relaxes. he fishes for another cigarette with his mouth, and then continues with it dangling unlit in his lips. A light breeze from the ocean behind him rolls in, tangled with the sounds of distant horns of industry and economy.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: We'll find out this weekend, lad, just who the real gangster is. Hell, you may try to pull a knife on me in the ring. Or a chair or a bell--whatever it takes to pull the wool over the world's eyes. Whatever gives you the mask of playing the part. I don't have to say I'm gangster or that I was born into the life to know who I am. Its just me. You'll see "gangster" this weekend, Ray; I know what I'll be getting: a competitive, but dirty fighter who will be desperate to show Brent Kersh, his peers and the world that he is a gangster or a "kingpin" of sorts, and that he still is the man he was inside the ring.
Hopefully, Raymond, ye can come prepared to wrestle. Hopefully, Raymond, ye can compete with me straight-up.
Tommy begins counting on his right hand while his left hand now rests his un-smoked cigarette.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley:
No props.
No distractions.
No multi-man battle.
No draws.
And the only way to ensure that, is to surround us with steel. Maybe we'll do that another time.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: On Saturday, though, all I can do is fight me best.
Tim Hellar: You've heard it here first, folks. Tommy O'Malley is challenging Raymond "Kingpin" Jones to a steel cage main event.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: It doesn't matter now, Timmy. But yes, I have no qualms with a match as such. Tomorrow, though it will be me and Raymond.
Tim Hellar: Do you anticipate a bit of deception?
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: Like I said before, Tim: The man thrives on being perceived as a thug. Whatever. If he brings a knife to a gunfight, so be it. Be prepared, Raymond.
"Southpaw" squints his eyes and flexes his jaw muscles.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: He may fight for fame and flash, but I fight for pride.
With that last line, Tim Hellar signals the stop of filming. He shakes Tommy's hand, but Tommy doesn't smile. He takes his newspaper out of his back pocket and folds it to reveal a picture. He hands the newspaper to Tim and says softly, but firmly,
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: Tim, this is the man in the footage. This is the man that is orchestrating his own world and rules in life. He'll stop at nothing to get what he wants. Ye know him as mobster Dillon McLean. In another life in Ireland, his name was Rory Kelly, and I was his "Hammer". He was my boxing and wrestling promoter when I was deep into the IRA and making him shite-loads of money. Now that I'm out from under their special wing of the Army, I might as well be an English bastard and an enemy to the the Emerald Isle. Now that ye've crossed him, he will keep an eye on ye. Be careful. Call if you need anything.
Tommy places his cigarette in his lips and starts walking toward the parking lot. Hellar examines the photo and looks out at the same view he had found Tommy beholding.
CLOSE SCENE~
The scene opens to the sounds of sea-gulls squawking and carrying on around a large, public commercial shipping dock. Large barges and shipping vessels clog the marine traffic ways close to the shores. Skimming the commercial boats' hulls, the camera focuses on one large red and black ship. It's name is "Mason Madeira", below it is the home port location: Houston, TX.
The Camera zooms out and then shifts to where the shore is lonely to the shipping lanes and seems quite peaceful, untouched by crates and blue-collar workers. The lens captures one older, grayish-looking pier that appears to not have been relied upon for commercial or personal use in a while; continuing to scan the length of the pier, it zooms in to find a man leaning on one of the posts, surveying the water.
The camera angle changes as a different camera captures O'Malley from the start of the pier. O'Malley looks left, and then slowly works his way right to get a final view of the scene and then turns to face the TWD media. As he approaches the second camera and exits the pier, a newspaper can be seen in-between Tommy's left arm and his body. He stops suddenly and pulls out a pack of Marlboro's and fishes out a cig with his lips. He then searches for a lighter, but comes up short. He looks at he camera man and asks a non-verbal "Do you have a lighter?" with his eyes. The second camera man bobbles the camera as it shakes, and then an outstretched arm can be seen from the right of the camera-view with a lighter in hand. The lighter is ignited and Tommy leans over to light-up. He gives him a quick nod.
Tommy starts to scan the scene on the shores, and when he looks left, he finds what he's looking for. He takes a long drag, and then gives a lop-sided grin. Tim Hellar comes into view with a mic in hand.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: Well, Shit me bed. You did have the balls to show up'ere afterall.
Timothy Hellar: Southpaw, I apologize. It was good footage, and it happened on BKI property. My boss said I couldn't pass it up.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: Nah, Tim. I can't hold it against ye. Hell, it doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would.
Tim Hellar: If this put you in any further danger, I...
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: Me? Feck, no. I'm fine. They already burnt down my gym in Dublin over the way the fight went down against Dustin Iler. They don't have anything left to take but my life. Now you, on the other hand may be in danger after showing it on the air. You feckin' got that old bastard on national TV. He'll be pissed. I'd watch your back.
Tim Hellar pauses. He looks down at the ground in thought and then raises his brows back up to O'Malley.
Tim Hellar: Does that mean they might ki...
Tommy "Southapaw" O'Malley: Nah. They might give you a few licks. Either way, I'll see about some protection.
Tim Hellar: Shit! We're live. Um...
Tim takes a big gulp, and then refocuses on the task at hand. He raises the microphone to right below his chin. He nods to the camera-man, and then looks directly into the camera nervously.
Tommy smiles even bigger and takes a huge draw on his cigarette and holds it for a few ticks, then releases through his nose.
Tim Hellar: Tim Hellar here, along with 2007 BKI Champ, Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley. We're, a-hem, live from Trinity Bay, just right outside of Houston, Texas, and we're here to talk some wrestling.
Tim moves closer to Tommy as O'Malley leans closer to listen and answer.
Tim Hellar: There's been a little bit of talk back and forth between the participants in this weekend's TWD Showdown on June 14th at Ford Arena. Some of that talk has been directed at you. How do you prepare for a match while listening to the criticisms or off-the-cuff remarks by your peers?
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: Well, Timmy there's really not a whole lot to sample yet me friend. This federation is young, and no one really knows each other yet, besides the few of us who competed at the BKI. I've heard some buzz, but for the most part it looks like the most trash talking is coming from my former challenger, Raymond Jones. A lot of people let his reputation precede him, as many did in the TWF...
Tim Hellar: By TWF, Tommy is talking about the now defunct "Tennessee Wrestling Federation" where Rayond "Kingpin" Jones is the last title holder.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: ...But I, I really don't have a lot to say. He sees himself as a gangster--and that's fine, if you like portraying an image of what ye want others to see, thats fine. I guess that is what being a part of a business like--what is it? Juggernaut Entertainment? So I guess he just plays a gangster on TV: In the ring, outside the squared-circle, it doesn't maa'tter.
Tommy takes a draw on his cigarette as it gets closer to expiring. He flicks it down to the ground and steps on it to extinguish the ashes, and looks into the camera.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: When do you dominate? Where do you dominate?
You're a champ of a non-existent wrestling federation. When you step out of that ring, as far as I'm concerned you're just Raymond Jones. When you step into the ring, you're "just" Raymond Jones. "Just" is an interesting word for you Raymond. It could mean adjectivally "Justice", or "exactly or precisely," which is what you'd prefer: to fool people into an illusory fear of your reputation.
Or it might be more like settling for something. It might "just" mean ordinary, or less than, or merely a "has been."
Tommy smiles and relaxes. he fishes for another cigarette with his mouth, and then continues with it dangling unlit in his lips. A light breeze from the ocean behind him rolls in, tangled with the sounds of distant horns of industry and economy.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: We'll find out this weekend, lad, just who the real gangster is. Hell, you may try to pull a knife on me in the ring. Or a chair or a bell--whatever it takes to pull the wool over the world's eyes. Whatever gives you the mask of playing the part. I don't have to say I'm gangster or that I was born into the life to know who I am. Its just me. You'll see "gangster" this weekend, Ray; I know what I'll be getting: a competitive, but dirty fighter who will be desperate to show Brent Kersh, his peers and the world that he is a gangster or a "kingpin" of sorts, and that he still is the man he was inside the ring.
Hopefully, Raymond, ye can come prepared to wrestle. Hopefully, Raymond, ye can compete with me straight-up.
Tommy begins counting on his right hand while his left hand now rests his un-smoked cigarette.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley:
No props.
No distractions.
No multi-man battle.
No draws.
And the only way to ensure that, is to surround us with steel. Maybe we'll do that another time.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: On Saturday, though, all I can do is fight me best.
Tim Hellar: You've heard it here first, folks. Tommy O'Malley is challenging Raymond "Kingpin" Jones to a steel cage main event.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: It doesn't matter now, Timmy. But yes, I have no qualms with a match as such. Tomorrow, though it will be me and Raymond.
Tim Hellar: Do you anticipate a bit of deception?
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: Like I said before, Tim: The man thrives on being perceived as a thug. Whatever. If he brings a knife to a gunfight, so be it. Be prepared, Raymond.
"Southpaw" squints his eyes and flexes his jaw muscles.
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: He may fight for fame and flash, but I fight for pride.
With that last line, Tim Hellar signals the stop of filming. He shakes Tommy's hand, but Tommy doesn't smile. He takes his newspaper out of his back pocket and folds it to reveal a picture. He hands the newspaper to Tim and says softly, but firmly,
Tommy "Southpaw" O'Malley: Tim, this is the man in the footage. This is the man that is orchestrating his own world and rules in life. He'll stop at nothing to get what he wants. Ye know him as mobster Dillon McLean. In another life in Ireland, his name was Rory Kelly, and I was his "Hammer". He was my boxing and wrestling promoter when I was deep into the IRA and making him shite-loads of money. Now that I'm out from under their special wing of the Army, I might as well be an English bastard and an enemy to the the Emerald Isle. Now that ye've crossed him, he will keep an eye on ye. Be careful. Call if you need anything.
Tommy places his cigarette in his lips and starts walking toward the parking lot. Hellar examines the photo and looks out at the same view he had found Tommy beholding.
CLOSE SCENE~