A raging thunderstorm rumbled outside. Rex 'Rocket' Ryan went down to his basement where his snooker table was located. Traditionally, the cloth of the table is green, but Rex preferred a fiery red. Rex played on the table religiously, trying to make a maximum break but struggled to get past 32. He moved on to the line practice routine but failed to reach a break of 50. In frustration, he slammed the cue on the table, yelled, and repeatedly hit his shoulder. "WHY AREN'T YOU POTTING THE FUCKING BALLS? WHY, WHY!?"

Deciding to keep it simple, he attempted to pot the black off its spot, but his mind was gone. By the end of the night, he had potted only 12 out of 100 blacks. He snapped his cue in half, threw all the balls on the ground, and trashed the furniture. Rex was screaming and crying, breaking everything until he suddenly stopped. He saw a picture frame of him and his ex-wife on the ground with the glass shattered. Rex knelt and cried until he fell asleep in his basement.

In the morning, Rex paced back and forth impatiently. He awaited 9 AM for the World Championships to start. He felt sick to his stomach seeing others play at the great Crucible Theatre venue while he was forced to watch from the TV.

The Crucible Theatre was lively with a crowd of 975; the venue was sparkling clean, and the table was in the best condition. Rex never cared for the players outside the elite 16 who had to qualify for every tournament, but after witnessing the horrifying double standard, he realized how awful it all was.

Rex was rooting for his friend Lester to win; he was the only man that Rex could stand lifting the trophy. Rex dreaded Julian picking up the title again. Rex knew that Lester was the only one with a chance of beating Julian, and the two met in the quarter-final.

Julian 'The Sphinx' Jackson had won his matches 10-0 and 13-0, while Lester 'Turtle' Finch won his matches 10-6 and 13-12, beating the same qualifier that defeated Rex. The match was set; the crowd was pumped by the announcer, and first came Julian with his walk-on music that differed from the rest. The usual walk-on music was a rock song, but with Julian, it was Mozart's Requiem. Julian came on stage dressed as a king wearing a crown; his manager Mickey "The Mouth" Davies threw flowers on the ground that Julian walked on. It was like this in every single one of Julian's matches. "Fucking clown," Rex muttered.

Lester came out slowly, strolling like an old man. He looked relaxed and not at all intimidated. Rex sat and watched the match that spanned three sessions. Rex did not blink at all; every time Lester was playing, Rex shouted, "POT THE BALL, POT ALL THE BALLS!"

However he would keep getting frustrated due to Lester's slow style of play. Every now and then, Lester would take his time, such as waiting five minutes before he decided which simple red he was going to play, or waiting three minutes to simply break off. Sometimes it would even take him 20 minutes to make a frame-winning break when the average is eight minutes. "GOD DAMMIT, MOVE YOUR ASS, TURTLE!" Rex's heart was pounding out of his chest every time Lester was on the table and he sweated while every time Julian played, he shouted, "MISS, MISS, FUCKING MISS!"

The crowd was awestruck as both players played a high-quality match with big breaks almost every frame. Usually, the crowd would smoke, cough endlessly, and even move slightly during matches, but at the World Championships, no one would dare move. This year, cigarette smoking was banned, though the tournament was still sponsored by a tobacco company. Both players were evenly matched: Julian would win a frame, and Lester would win the next frame right away.

As the match progressed, something strange happened. The average thinking time for Julian was 23 seconds, which is the average for most players.Lesters longest ever average thinking time per shot was 50 seconds; his usual range is between 30-40 seconds. His previous best was 28 seconds, but now it was 20 seconds—a lightning speed compared to his usual.

It was the third and final session, the score 9-9. Julian potted a long red but didn't get position, so he played a safety shot which wasn't good and gave Lester an opportunity. He is now 40-1 in front.

"Come on, Turtle, come on, you got this! You'll lead for the first time in this match!" Lester lined up the black off the spot, went down, and missed it.

Julian then cleared the table and won the next frames. Lester was too tired; he couldn't keep up his form and lost 9-13. Clive 'Crumbs' Cunningham, the snooker commentator, was livid: "THE TURTLE LOSES, THE HARE OUTRAN THE TURTLE! OH YEAHHHH! LESTER, OLD BOY, WILL BE JOINING HIS FRIEND, THE RUSTY ROCKET, AS ANOTHER REGULAR PUNCHING BAG OF THE SPHINX!"

Julian would win his semi-final and final 16-7 and 18-3, winning the title. Once he lifted the trophy, Rex threw his remote at the TV, smashing it, and stared blankly at the wall for hours.