One Page description of a character.
Up for grabs.
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Mr. Carpenter
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Mr Carpenter is a tall man.
He is about six feet and a half of height.
Mr. Carpenter is also a very rotund man.
His body mass is of 423 pounds.
Mr. Carpenter did not like looking at the scale as he weighed himself on it. Although only secretly, seeing as every morning he would go about his usual hygiene business. And, every time, after a shower, he would look to the scale. Cringing a bit as he sets one wet, naked foot onto it first, gingerly. Followed by its huge dark twin.
Mr. Carpenter is an African American.
Although he’s never seen Africa. And seriously doubts anyone in his still living family ever has.
Mr. Carpenter is forty-three years old.
He is a man that ages well. He still looks a man in his mid thirties. He is proud of this. (And tells himself he would be more-so if he lost a bit more weight!)
What assists in the illusion of a younger self are his bright marble blue eyes.
His shaved head.
And his constant smile and cheery personality.
Some might say Mr. Carpenter has a bit of growing up to do.
But everyone who keeps Mr. Carpenter close knows that his joy is infectious.
And his outlook on life always cheery, positive, and realistic.
Mr. Carpenter has a tattoo. He has never shown anyone this tattoo.
It is a blot of a thing, barely noticeable.
In that area, between the left butt cheek and the thigh, there is a small red heart.
Mr. Carpenter has a mole on his chest. He picks out the hairs with a tweezer constantly.
Mr. Carpenter is not a lazy man. Mr. Carpenter likes to work. He wonders if it has to do with his last name, if it runs in the blood.
Mr. Carpenter has black hair and hands the size of a young child’s face.
But Mr. Carpenter has never grabbed a child’s face in his hands. His friends, though, tell him he could crush a child’s skull.
Mr. Carpenter likes to drink socially.
Mr. Carpenter smokes cigars, but only secretly, and not for the smoke to lungs almost orgasmic effect. But for the smell. From the death of the matches smoke scent to the tendrils of foggy air that escape his mouth as he drags and puffs carefully on a cigar.
Mr. Carpenter loves the way cigars taste. So raw, natural.
Mr. Carpenter is a very sensory man. Which might be why he is so rotund. Addicted to the smell, the feeling, the taste, the look of good food. Never thinking a meal is too much or too unhealthy. Mr. Carpenter loves food.
He is about six feet and a half of height.
Mr. Carpenter is also a very rotund man.
His body mass is of 423 pounds.
Mr. Carpenter did not like looking at the scale as he weighed himself on it. Although only secretly, seeing as every morning he would go about his usual hygiene business. And, every time, after a shower, he would look to the scale. Cringing a bit as he sets one wet, naked foot onto it first, gingerly. Followed by its huge dark twin.
Mr. Carpenter is an African American.
Although he’s never seen Africa. And seriously doubts anyone in his still living family ever has.
Mr. Carpenter is forty-three years old.
He is a man that ages well. He still looks a man in his mid thirties. He is proud of this. (And tells himself he would be more-so if he lost a bit more weight!)
What assists in the illusion of a younger self are his bright marble blue eyes.
His shaved head.
And his constant smile and cheery personality.
Some might say Mr. Carpenter has a bit of growing up to do.
But everyone who keeps Mr. Carpenter close knows that his joy is infectious.
And his outlook on life always cheery, positive, and realistic.
Mr. Carpenter has a tattoo. He has never shown anyone this tattoo.
It is a blot of a thing, barely noticeable.
In that area, between the left butt cheek and the thigh, there is a small red heart.
Mr. Carpenter has a mole on his chest. He picks out the hairs with a tweezer constantly.
Mr. Carpenter is not a lazy man. Mr. Carpenter likes to work. He wonders if it has to do with his last name, if it runs in the blood.
Mr. Carpenter has black hair and hands the size of a young child’s face.
But Mr. Carpenter has never grabbed a child’s face in his hands. His friends, though, tell him he could crush a child’s skull.
Mr. Carpenter likes to drink socially.
Mr. Carpenter smokes cigars, but only secretly, and not for the smoke to lungs almost orgasmic effect. But for the smell. From the death of the matches smoke scent to the tendrils of foggy air that escape his mouth as he drags and puffs carefully on a cigar.
Mr. Carpenter loves the way cigars taste. So raw, natural.
Mr. Carpenter is a very sensory man. Which might be why he is so rotund. Addicted to the smell, the feeling, the taste, the look of good food. Never thinking a meal is too much or too unhealthy. Mr. Carpenter loves food.
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