‘Pleasure that is bought with pain, hurts.’
A fly was attracted to a jar of honey. As it flew about the room, it could see that honey on the shelf, beckoning it to taste its sweetness. So, placing their feet in it, the fly ate greedily. Its feet, however, became so smeared with the honey that they could not use their wings, nor release themselves, and were suffocated.
Its greed had gotten the better of it, and would be its undoing.
Just as they were expiring, the fly exclaimed, “O foolish creature I am, for the sake of a little pleasure I have destroyed myself.”
Every year, that jar of honey comes out and is placed back upon the Slaughterhouse’s shelf. Ring King.
Low and behold, every year, the flies gather. They can smell the sweetness. They are attracted to that honey, they lust after the sweet flavour. To just have a taste of that Ring King glory.
And every year, the foolish think that it’s theirs to taste. The greedy look towards the prize with disregard to the price they will pay to attain that taste.
You are no different, Ether.
You’ve stood in Simon’s shadow for long enough, lapping up the leftovers of his plans. You’ve tried to break off more of a bite to chew, as have the rest of Jet Set Radio. But for whatever reason, you seem to always be eating the scraps.
And yet you circle the room, looking for more. Looking for something better to eat.
Ring King is your buffet to dine on, your chance to lap upon the honey, and you’ll do so greedily. You will dive into that honeypot head first, smearing yourself with the honey of opportunity. You will coat yourself with the chance to take a bite out of that Ring King crown.
This is finally your shot. Your chance to take a taste, so a taste you will take.
But your greed is also your undoing,
For in your greed to taste the honey, you neglect the path that you must travel to reach the jar.
For the honeypot sits not upon a shelf, greedy girl. It sits atop a mighty mountain.
And to reach that jar, first you must climb that mountain.
It’s impossible for a mere fly to scale a mountain when its wings are glued shut with the smearing of greed.
Just like it will be impossible for you to move past the first round when the mountain destroys you, all for the sake of a little honey that you can never have.
A potential that you will never reach.
I am that obstacle that stands between you and the honeypot. And unlike you, I’m no mere fly, eager and greedy for a taste of honey. I’m a bear.
I can wet my paws with as much honey as I please. I can eat my fill and not suffer.
For I don’t want a mere taste of that honey, I want the whole jar.
At Ring King… I’m going to eat the honey.