Benjamin Spicket was not one of those guys who could be relied on in tough times. When he was a child, no part of him would have reminded you of a cute blonde kid with a penchant for booby trapping a house as a way to stay one step ahead of bandits. In his early 20s, he would pop a few Hungry-Man frozen dinners in the microwave and snuggle up with his television to watch a dozen naked and sweaty people scramble around on an island. When Destiny’s Child made a video reminiscent of that show — he couldn’t remember the name of the song — he loved it only in the manner of single 20-something men everywhere. A few years later, he completely eschewed another TV show that was hosted by a guy with a ridiculous name, “Grizzly Bear” or something like that, because it did not have nearly enough hot women. And throughout his whole life, he could never have told you who Gloria Gaynor was, though occasionally, often while he was in the shower or applying the Axe Body Spray, the wordless tune of her most famous song would float jauntily through his subconscious.
Benjamin Spicket had been more like one of those kids who dropped a spider down the back of your little sister’s dress when she was 7. When questioned, he would not or could not tell you why he did it, but you had your suspicions. He was kinda like that guy in college who grinned at you from the dorm room bed when you showed up to take your friend from the sticky floor to the nearest emergency room. He avoided expulsion then, and he flew below the boss’s radar now. He was the Neo of dodging pink slips. He was a survivor.