Little Billy Bob Thornton wasn’t always this way. No sir. Once he was a superhero. That’s right – a superhero called ‘Sling Blade’.
So called because he had a penchant for throwing razor blades at the folk around town. And that’s how our story begins.
“Mmm-hrrrm,” grunts Sling Blade, placidly admiring his plate of chips and mustard.
Chips and mustard is uncommon in them thar parts. The townsfolk accuse him of witchery.
Sling Blade gets The Fear. He transmutes, growing in size until he dwarfs even the tallest cedar.
Aglow with radioactive energy, he uses a pair of parked pickup trucks as roller skates and proceeds to mow down the townsfolk. He’s all aplump with murder-glee.
Radcliffe P. Algernon Esq., a young orphan the meta-human has befriended, convinces Billy Bob to desist.
“There’s trouble at the old Fuley ranch!”
Sling Blade returns to normal size and rushes to the ranch. Young Radcliffe catches up to him around about three fifty three pee em.
He din’t right know what to make of what’n he’d saw up in them woods. Fer t’were ol’ Billy Bob, that’s sure ’nuff. But what were in that old place, none could tell. And none would never speak of it again.