July 18, 2008

Nearly a year ago I summoned up a mannequin from the bowels of the Internet. He came to our living room as a jumble of parts and nakedness, and I assembled him by candlelight late in the misty evening. Then, we named him Walter, made him wear ridiculous disguises, and asked him to dance for us. Having a mannequin in our lives, watching our every move, made us feel alive, giddy, neurotic.

We taught Walter all we knew: how to kiss, how to juggle, how to pet dogs, how to fuck wildly.

But soon, or meek apartment became too small, to confining for Walter. He had dreams of stardom and craved new adventures.

So early one July morning we strapped him into the back seat of the car and drove down to Toronto. Someone adopted Walter and wants him to play the role of a superhero. Walter is going to wear a Spiderman costume at extravagantly queer parties. It’s what he always wanted.

We said good bye to his dismembered body parts in a Walmart parking lot on the edge of Toronto. He seemed eager to start his new life, and our eyes were moist with tenderness. Walter grew up to be the hero we knew he could be.

Let’s take a moment to remember his awesomness and rejoice at his future might!