J Arthur Collins

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Benny

My poor old Benny will not stop pouring from his blue and watery mouth. 

The Academy where these Elementals are created (or rather stolen and dastardly repurposed) sends me a monthly bill telling me – pretending as if they are enlightening me on the fact I am using these old beasts too much. 

Telling me: “Oh, your water bill is far higher these last few months than it used to be.” 

They reach out and offer me coupons and bargains to reduce and reuse my sweet Benny, but I refuse!

Like Benny, Penny, Lenny, and Jerry all still sit idly and beautifully around my house.       They no longer function, sure, but they did at one point and for far longer than my neighbour’s.

I diligently put in the effort to preserve and care and repair my elementals.

Waste is a waste, and if all my poor old Benny needs to be able to control his pour again is a little work and a tincture tune-up, there is no better hand for him than mine own. 

They feature no such cogs and whistles as the machinations our engineers are creating, only a substance-less, undulating mass of fresh water that sweetly produces his own.

And I find him much cuter than grease and oil, mind you, even in his consistent incontinence. 

So I shame you, openly and loudly, (to this yellowing parchment that didn’t deserve how hard I am scrawling) you… You cabal of a vast necessary evil over there in your wet academy. 

I do thank you for my friends and the ability to wash my hands, but I rebuke your propensity for minimizing my Benny.