Butterface: (noun) Someone with an exceptionally hot body but an exceptionally ugly face. "Everything but-her-face is attractive." Another iteration of this phrase would be "He has a dreamboat body and a shipwrecked face."
John Morrison shuffled slowly down the back halls of the arena, his head bowed in sadness. Tears ran down his pale cheeks, soaking his quivering face in salty despair.
"Johnny?", came a small voice from the hallway in front of him. Sounds of someone vomiting filtered in from behind a closed door somewhere nearby.
Morrison stopped walking, shifted his balls to a more comfortable position, and looked into the hallway ahead. Evan Bourne stood there, leaning easily against the wall, phone in hand.
"Why are you crying?", the younger man asked, tilting his head inquisitively while silently wondering how ninjas stopped to pee during a battle.
Morrison looked away in an effort to hide the shame and embarrassment he knew was crossing his face. A squishing sound emanated from his bottom region, and a brown waft entered the air. "It- it doesn't matter." He sniffed, and rubbed at his eyes.
Evan stood up straight and stared at his manly friend. "Aw, c'mon, you can tell me." He smiled his gentle smile…his creepy, drunken, mongoloid smile.
Morrison relented, sighing heavily and releasing another spray of brown into the atmosphere. "Okay, okay! I'm crying cause Edge told me I have a butterface!" A fresh tear rolled down his cheek at the memory and quickly attempted to run back up into his eye to escape the polluted air.
Evan's eyes opened wide. "Oh, Johnny, is that all? You don't need to cry about that!"
Morrison sniffed, blinking tears out of his eyes. "I don't?"
"No, silly!" Evan laughed, "You are a butterface! Everybody knows that!" He continued down the hallway, skipping to a beat only he could hear.
Morrison stood there, thinking about what Bourne has just said. He yelled "Fuck you!" to no one in particular, spit in his hand, and slapped his own ass with the fortitude of a clown.
The End.