I'd make him old, incredibly fat and with no zest for life.
He spends his days changing light bulbs on the rides as a carnie. Every night before he goes to bed in his little shed, he waves his hands all around to feel for invisible predators, and screams at every shadow. Sometimes he sees dreads emerging from the toilet bowl. His little teddy bear is missing an ear and has a grenade duct taped to its chest. He calls it Mac, but sometimes calls it Billy when he is frightened into running away. He finds solace in the Flaming Dragon kiddy ride, and often drinks himself to sleep in the goat corral. Sometimes he works on his "suit". An amalgam of Iron Man, The Rugrats, and Red Green technology.
And now, unwashed, unshaven, mentally unstable, and scared to death, he will once again meet his greatest foe. May Odin smile upon his corndog bandoleer, and grant him the intoxication necessary to form proper insults. If sh*t goes down, he's diapered.
Predator 3
"Whoever loses, doesn't win".