It’s over.
My entire life as I know it is completely and utterly over. Everything I’d worked hard to achieve just flushed down the toilet like a steaming pile of you-know-what.
My VHS Championship reign? Over.
One hundred and seventy four days and seven successful Championship defences.
All for naught.
People don’t even remember my name. What about the children? What about the poor boys and girls that need me? What about my show? Can you imagine how they feel, looking at that static and wondering where I’d gone?
I used to pride myself on being here for them. I didn’t have a voice when I was their age and I wanted so desperately to be that for them.
When I let him in, I condemned myself to destruction.
I offered him the opportunity take control and he didn’t hesitate. There wasn’t a battle within or some kind of war. Scissors didn’t need to convince me to let him take over; I just did it. I led down like a coward.
I succumbed to my own doom.
And with every step he takes, every breath, he destroys everything I’d built in the process. The end of my world is nigh and there’s nothing I can do about it.
He was doomed.
That pathetic façade he used to put on, playing with his dolly’s and making nice with all the children – it was a means to an end of nothing.
There was no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
No sunshine and butterflies.
No smelling of the roses.
Felix Foley was doomed from the minute his mother and father brought him into the world. He was always going to fail. He was always going to be a shit stain on the underpants of society.
The truth is that he thought he could make a difference. He genuinely believed that he could reach the youth of Arcadia; that the children would hear his voice.
To think that any child alive would even think about listening to him is the biggest joke of all.
If Felix Foley were in the Semi Finals of the Ring King tournament, he’d be doomed.
It would be over.
But he isn’t the one standing opposite you, is he? If he were, it’d be easy pickings, I’m sure. You’d take him apart, Doctor. We both know it.
I’m not doomed.
No, you see, I’ll look Doom dead in his beady little eyes and break his fucking face.
I’ll do what Felix couldn’t do his entire pathetic life and thrive when faced with Doom.
Because in a choice between being doomed or becoming King, there’s only one place I’ll be.
That’s sitting upon a throne with a crown placed upon my head.
I’m doomed.
I’m not.
Snip Snip!