BibbleSmiley(BS)

Crayon in Dryer

The best words to describe Benjamin Wingfeild are terms misappropriated, that's not to say disgraced. The condition he was afflicted with was simple, it was a good way of describing him. In times of old he would have drawn diagrams to be made as a nonverbal autistic. That and a good deal of shortness but what he lacked in height he made up for tenfold in some serious, major attitude. One look at him and you couldn't help but smile. His own crooked grin looked like a jack-o-lantern. He had received a haircut through a bicycle helmet which was necessary and it stuck with him through his WWE career.

The growth spurt upon his face was a wispy mustache which was the result of a lazy endocrine gland. A sign that he was getting angry was shuffling followed by beating his chest like a baboon, calling him King-Dong with fingers nimble and quick he manipulated. He didn't know how to express an emotional reaction, interacting with his dissociative type of well-being. The rapid breathing noises that accompanied this display of aggression were both shallow and deep depending on what stage of throwing a child's tantrum he was in, stroking out on his back.

It couldn't be fathomed what sort of wizard carpenter was hired to engineer him. What really grinded his gears was when Friday night's smackdown Andre the giant quit to become a competitive drinker, knocked his ass out and kissed him on the cheek. Benjamin was made fun of for liking something that wasn't real but he adamantly advocated authenticity. His parents were the only people he knew so he felt like they weren't exactly friends but they should at least get along seeing as they had to live together. They let him be as long as he didn't show signs of becoming a problem with law enforcement but the town they would always be right over.

Ben didn't have any friends except for Rerun who wasn't even human so that didn't count either. Show me who your friends are and I'll show you who you are, it's all about you but don't want to hear it. There were none to speak of and it left a lot unsaid about his ambiance which could only be given once. In the case of fake wrestling the only blood came from self-inflicted razor cuts that were opened mid match. Hulk Hogan would win any day in a fight against Mike Tyson. The day after he died it would happen, it was kind of a big deal. Not that he had a lot of opportunities to make friends in the middle of coyote butt screw nowhere.

His parents kept him confined to the farm and were good practicing Christians for raising a child most would have aborted if they knew it would be mentally handicapped. They did their absolute best to impose their faith on Ben and he was receptive to a God which could explain philosophy. More than likely his jaw would freeze ajar if he ever did see a girl besides his mom. He knew he liked the girls who wore leotards and hit each other with chairs that he was hiding behind. He didn't want a girl that couldn't take a hit in case he ever lost his temper. Mrs. Wingfield's anatomy was unusual. It crossed his mind that they operated different equipment and the idea that all people were the same excluding private parts was disgusting. Despite being raised in the south he couldn't get a belle even with a soul patch. His parents quit trying to procreate due to a deeply embedded fear that the offspring would turn out to be like poor Benjamin. He was a single child. A big workload fell upon the farm hands like Atlas, the name of an exotic pet shop, selling animals from every corner of the map.

Benjamin woke up at the crack of dawn, his sleepy eyes sad. They only brightened when he had the horizon reflected in them. He wore the same outfit everyday like a cartoon character. A pair of bib overalls with one strap undone his nipple matching the color of his lips.. Sometimes he wore nothing but his birthday suit, which was a non-scheduled government holiday. His nakedness could be revealed in all its glory and he was remarkably comfortable in his own skin. He was living the dream to be sure. For starters he got to work upright like a devolving homo sapien. Teachers and farmers got one season off a year. He had all of Winter planned out for the rest of forever. It involved not harvesting any crops.