An ugly curse to the untrained eye. Everyone stares but only a handful understand. Our ears like cauliflower heads, an inevitable right of passage. Some worse than others, mine prefers the left side, Aidan’s has completely taken over, but Keegan's still vestigial, Connor’s like a golf ball has taken complete control over what once was his ear.
In the practice room, everyone knows who competes the hardest, mothers horrified as they watch their sons’ ears transform like a science experiment gone wrong or something out of a Frankenstein film. Little kids fantasize about how theirs will look when they're older, or who will get it first.
But Ben’s ears, Ben’s ears, like a deflated tire, like a sinister playdough creation only a five-year old could’ve constructed, a bulletproof vest of cartilage forever bonded to the sides of his head, its rock hard touch leaving you quivering in discomfort, created in the dark depths of a relentless work ethic, and a sadistic love to fight. A relentless work ethic, and a sadistic love to fight.