Ever since John could remember, he knew he was special. If you asked him, he would be unable to tell you exactly what made him so damn special, but he could feel it deep in his marrow. In fact, it felt so strong, at times, that John never called it marrow. Instead he chose to call it "Magic Dust," becuase it literally felt, to him, that his marrow was comprised of magic dust from a time when wizards roamed the earth.
Too look at him you would not think him very special. Actually, most considered him lesser than the most mundane thing they ever laid their eyes upon. Dull brown eyes that light seemed to avoid. A pudgy face that seemed mostly composed of pimples--as if it were supposed to look that way. His hair he kept incredibly short, just half an inch from looking as shiny and bald as Mr. Clean, but Mr. Clean never had ears that stuck out two inches to the side and a face seething in shiny white-heads and black-heads just waiting to be popped.
As if his face wasn't enough to scare away the neighbor's great dane, he had a body of such outrageous proportion that it looked like a mix between the legendary Santa Clause and the not-so-legendary Barny Fife. He literally had no ass, but--in order to compensate--he had a gut that hinted to an obsession for chocolate chip chocolate cupcakes that bordered on addiction. This obsession may distinguish much of the mystery regarding his acne-ridden face. Besides his lacking an ass and his abundance of gut he had arms that would appear quite muscular if they did not appear so flabby, saggy, and fat. John learned a long time ago to keep his waving to a minimum when others were sitting close to his side. Once, in middle-school, he was waving exuberantly to his mother while a fellow student sat directly to his left. With all his excited waving the loose fat on his left arm began to wave around in sucha violent manner that it smacked the poor boy right in the face. Besides the black eyes and bleeding nose, he survived without much physical scarring.
But that was a long time ago, and even though John hadn't changed much, he'd learned his lessons and kept them with them as he grew. He was still the same fat kid whose only real muscle resided in his legs due to the enourmous burden they constantly carried, but he was several years older--five years, to be exact--and he was ready to take those years of learning with him as he went on his next great adventure. Employment.
John was ready to earn some money so he could finally afford to buy those elephant tuxedo pants he'd been eyeing since he got a date to prom. (Mother was nice enough to change her schedule a bit in order to accompany her son on his big senoir dance.) He'd already applied at several different locations, but none wanted anything to do with him. None except one fast food place that prided themselves with their speedy service.
