I was 11 years old and I'll never forget it. My foster-father had taken me to the zoo and he bought me a cup of red, coconut-flavored shaved ice.
He acted like he took out a second mortgage to afford both.

I hadn't asked for it. Nor, had I asked to hear him complain about the cost for the rest of the day. He kept telling me how much of a burden I was. How I wasn't worth all the effort he was putting in.

His name was Randy.

His name was Randy and I didn't care how he felt at all. I had only known him for 7 months at that time and my primary concern was the lion exhibit.

The King of the Jungle. Right here, in my hometown of Birmingham, Alabama.

In a cage.

The whole scenario intrigued me. Even at 11, I grasped that irony. I saw him sitting next to a tree and my entire life, even to the point it's at today, started to make sense.

You see, people say that Eric Rex is remorseless. That he feels no guilt for his actions.

Does that lion?

Does that lion chase away a gazelle only to double-back to eat it's young and then question what he did?

Of course, he doesn't. He's above it. He's the King of the Jungle.

Rex Iungala.

There I was, a little, 11 year-old Eric Rex and I knew that I was just like that lion.
I was at the top of the food chain. There were none above me, and I was going to prove it.

While mid-life Randy stood over me complaining about the cost of a cup of shaved ice, and me knowing all the while it would result in my black eyes at school the next day, I made a vow. I made a vow to myself and to that lion.

That vow was that I'd never be Randy.

I'd never be my biological father.

I'd never be my mother.

I would never let circumstance keep me from being at the top of the food chain.

Here I am in the XWF, fighting for myself, and I am Rex Iungala.

I am Rex Dolor.

I am Eric Rex.

There's a piece of that lion in you, too, Zayne. We'll see just how much on Wednesday.