Post by sampsoncyprus on Apr 12, 2013 22:14:33 GMT -4
The scene opens tight on a rust red Ford Probe circa 1990. As the shot pans out a small body of moving water comes into view just beyond the tall weeds and the car. Beer cans and other refuse are seen floating down stream. The light from the morning sun plays on the water and the bits of frost on the car. After some moments of silence there is a rustling and the frame shakes a bit as though the cameraman were getting uncomfortable. We zoom on the window of the car and a figure huddled under rough blankets in the passenger seat comes into view. There is a knock on the window and a rustle under the blankets. Another knock and what sound like some dull expletives come from inside the car. After another moment the blanket is pulled back revealing a man. He looks tired, disoriented, annoyed. He looks bleary eyed at the camera through the windows of the car before raising both hands open palms facing up, his shoulders come up in a violent shrug.
"What the hell is this?"
The man steps out of the car wearing a pair of boots, long underwear and a tshirt. He is big. The size and build of a man who could only have been a professional athlete. He looks fiercely at the camera and repeats his question. His voice is booming and nasty. He is reaching into the car for something.
"I asked you what the hell is going on. Who the hell do you think you are?"
The camera zooms out quickly exposing this giant of a man standing in what looks like an unofficial campsite by a river. He brandishes a tire iron and excuses are stammered from behind the camera. Rapid words, too fast to decipher. The man is advancing around the car now. A combination of sounds finally makes sense to him.
"I-m here from Action Packed Wrestling."
The man lowers the tire iron. He groans, stretches his back and moves back toward the tall weeds.
"Well why didn't you say so? What the hell are you doing here before god has had his morning shave?"
"It's after 11:00am, sir. You are Mister Sampson Cyprus?"
The man turns his back to the camera, relieving himself and nourishing the tall weeds.
"Eleven am... Mister... Ha... man..."
His body shudders and he shakes, bouncing on his heels before turning back to face the camera.
"Yeah, I'm Sampson. Are you the guy who's interviewing me? I'm not used to being ambushed as I sleep in my home."
"In your...?"
The cameraman drops off, embarrassed.
"What the hell are you all red over? Don't you dare feel sorry for me boy. There is no time for that sh*t. The world is my home. This business has given me that like so many other precious gifts. So let's get down to business. What do you pay?"
There is a pause from behind the camera. Sampson stares expectantly into the camera. This conversation is going no further until his question is answered. Finally a response comes uncomfortably from behind the camera.
"I wouldn't know Mr. Cyprus. My understanding was that those arrangements have already been made with your agent. I am only here for an interview."
"An on camera interview?"
"Right sir."
"Like where you film me talking?"
"That's right sir."
"Then you got it. Now piss off. I have phone calls to make."
Sampson begins pulling clothing items out of the trunk of his car. He buttons up a flannel over his tshirt and pulls a pair of jeans on over his long underwear before pulling his boots back on, unlaced. He looks up, annoyed at presence of the cameraman.
"Are you just going to watch me?"
"I was told to get an introduction from you."
"I ain't introducing myself to anyone unless I know what I'm making!"
"Then you should call your agent. I was told your contract was finalized."
Sampson runs his hand through his hair, shoulder length and white. Maybe blond once. He looks every day of his fifty some years of hard living.
"Gimme your phone."
The scene cuts. Sampson has put a jacket on and is pacing behind the car drinking a beer. He is talking on the phone.
"Roy, that's nothing. How could you sign that?"
He pauses while the person on the other end speaks.
"Because I'm worth more than that, I can draw a crowd. Well when is it up for review? Eighteen months?! Roy, you piece of sh*t. I did you a favor letting you negotiate this for me... yeah it was a favor... well who the hell is lining up to do business with you? Has-been? You are a real piece of work Roy. A real champion. Yeah. Thanks for nothing you dirty (bleep) mother(bleep)."
Sampson pitches the phone into the river and lets out his anger in a wordless yell.
"Hey! That was my..."
The cameraman stops talking. Sampson is making his way back with purpose. He sets his beer down outside the frame and begins to speak directly to the camera.
"Alright, listen up. This is Sensational Sampson Cyprus. I have signed onto APW to do things: crush kids and make money. I have been doing both of those things for a long time and I am very good at one of them. I can already hear you pencil d*cked kids with your pretty dancer's physiques. 'Who is this guy? He cant be serious. He's too old. He's too fat.'
He reaches into a pocket and produces a filter-less cigarette, bent halfway down the shaft. He lights it, taking a long drag.
"Well let me tell you something. This ain't no dance. This sport is a fight. Every damn second of it is a fight. Inside the ring and out. I look around in every locker room and it's the same thing. It's big eyed kids looking at me like I'm something to eat. You think you're hungry? You don't even know what that means yet. Your eyes are bigger then your stomachs kids. Don't get the wrong idea. Hungry is when nothing stops you from taking the things you want. Hungry means the action always outweighs the consequence. I am hungry. I will prove it on Meltdown."
Sampson stares into the camera for a short time after finishing his sentence. He takes another drag from his cigarette, adopting a more casual posture.
"Did you get it? Good. I want you to cut the rest of that shit out, you hear me? Good."
The scene fades out, having aired uncut.
"What the hell is this?"
The man steps out of the car wearing a pair of boots, long underwear and a tshirt. He is big. The size and build of a man who could only have been a professional athlete. He looks fiercely at the camera and repeats his question. His voice is booming and nasty. He is reaching into the car for something.
"I asked you what the hell is going on. Who the hell do you think you are?"
The camera zooms out quickly exposing this giant of a man standing in what looks like an unofficial campsite by a river. He brandishes a tire iron and excuses are stammered from behind the camera. Rapid words, too fast to decipher. The man is advancing around the car now. A combination of sounds finally makes sense to him.
"I-m here from Action Packed Wrestling."
The man lowers the tire iron. He groans, stretches his back and moves back toward the tall weeds.
"Well why didn't you say so? What the hell are you doing here before god has had his morning shave?"
"It's after 11:00am, sir. You are Mister Sampson Cyprus?"
The man turns his back to the camera, relieving himself and nourishing the tall weeds.
"Eleven am... Mister... Ha... man..."
His body shudders and he shakes, bouncing on his heels before turning back to face the camera.
"Yeah, I'm Sampson. Are you the guy who's interviewing me? I'm not used to being ambushed as I sleep in my home."
"In your...?"
The cameraman drops off, embarrassed.
"What the hell are you all red over? Don't you dare feel sorry for me boy. There is no time for that sh*t. The world is my home. This business has given me that like so many other precious gifts. So let's get down to business. What do you pay?"
There is a pause from behind the camera. Sampson stares expectantly into the camera. This conversation is going no further until his question is answered. Finally a response comes uncomfortably from behind the camera.
"I wouldn't know Mr. Cyprus. My understanding was that those arrangements have already been made with your agent. I am only here for an interview."
"An on camera interview?"
"Right sir."
"Like where you film me talking?"
"That's right sir."
"Then you got it. Now piss off. I have phone calls to make."
Sampson begins pulling clothing items out of the trunk of his car. He buttons up a flannel over his tshirt and pulls a pair of jeans on over his long underwear before pulling his boots back on, unlaced. He looks up, annoyed at presence of the cameraman.
"Are you just going to watch me?"
"I was told to get an introduction from you."
"I ain't introducing myself to anyone unless I know what I'm making!"
"Then you should call your agent. I was told your contract was finalized."
Sampson runs his hand through his hair, shoulder length and white. Maybe blond once. He looks every day of his fifty some years of hard living.
"Gimme your phone."
The scene cuts. Sampson has put a jacket on and is pacing behind the car drinking a beer. He is talking on the phone.
"Roy, that's nothing. How could you sign that?"
He pauses while the person on the other end speaks.
"Because I'm worth more than that, I can draw a crowd. Well when is it up for review? Eighteen months?! Roy, you piece of sh*t. I did you a favor letting you negotiate this for me... yeah it was a favor... well who the hell is lining up to do business with you? Has-been? You are a real piece of work Roy. A real champion. Yeah. Thanks for nothing you dirty (bleep) mother(bleep)."
Sampson pitches the phone into the river and lets out his anger in a wordless yell.
"Hey! That was my..."
The cameraman stops talking. Sampson is making his way back with purpose. He sets his beer down outside the frame and begins to speak directly to the camera.
"Alright, listen up. This is Sensational Sampson Cyprus. I have signed onto APW to do things: crush kids and make money. I have been doing both of those things for a long time and I am very good at one of them. I can already hear you pencil d*cked kids with your pretty dancer's physiques. 'Who is this guy? He cant be serious. He's too old. He's too fat.'
He reaches into a pocket and produces a filter-less cigarette, bent halfway down the shaft. He lights it, taking a long drag.
"Well let me tell you something. This ain't no dance. This sport is a fight. Every damn second of it is a fight. Inside the ring and out. I look around in every locker room and it's the same thing. It's big eyed kids looking at me like I'm something to eat. You think you're hungry? You don't even know what that means yet. Your eyes are bigger then your stomachs kids. Don't get the wrong idea. Hungry is when nothing stops you from taking the things you want. Hungry means the action always outweighs the consequence. I am hungry. I will prove it on Meltdown."
Sampson stares into the camera for a short time after finishing his sentence. He takes another drag from his cigarette, adopting a more casual posture.
"Did you get it? Good. I want you to cut the rest of that shit out, you hear me? Good."
The scene fades out, having aired uncut.
