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A man wants to be a walrus. |
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I wanted a walrus disguise because walruses are wise and fearless. I didn't know how to make one so I searched on Craigslist for someone who could do the job. I found Frances Staciliski. She lived in Northern Minnesota. I called her. "A walrus disguise, aye?" she said. "Why on Earth would you want to be a walrus?" "My life is boring and sad. A walrus' life is better." "Oh yeah? How do you figure?" "That Beatles song says so. The one with kookookachoo." "I don't care if you're crazy. How long do you want the tusks?" "Foot and a half sounds about right. Pure ivory of course." "Of course. Ten grand will cover it. Give me six months. Meet me here with the cash." One hundred eighty-two days later I flew to Minneapolis. I rented a car and followed Ms. Staciliski's directions to a dirt road. In a blizzard, I made out the snowmobile she said would be there. I drove it ten miles through the woods. I was wondering if she'd led me on a wild goose chase for kicks when I had to slam on breaks to keep from crashing into her cabin. I was happy to see she'd cleared a path to the door. I walked right in. She was a blur until I got my goggles off and she'd placed a steaming cup in my hands. She was ugly. Her nose was unnaturally long and two curly hairs jutted from her chin. She wasn't so much fat as lumpy. She wore a shawl that might have been sewn with camelhair in the middle ages. She looked like she'd stepped from the pages of Hansel and Gretel. Did I smell a stew cooking or a brew full of newts and babys' fingers? "Show me the cash," she said. "And I'll show you the disguise." I dug the Benjamins from my coat. She made them disappear in her shawl or the lumps beneath. She retrieved the costume from the brew. The tusks were sharp as daggers. It smelled like a walrus as much as looked like one. She dropped it at my feet. Steam poured from it in waves. "Put it on," she said. "Or did you come all this way to gawk?" I put it on. The next thing I recall is lying on a piece of glacier ice in some place even more remote, cold, and snowy than Northern Minnesota. The disguise was more than I'd bargained for. It was warm and slippery, and flapping my flippers seemed so natural it was like I had no arms underneath. I was hungry, so I dove into the water to find fish. A moment later, I speared a salmon with a tusk and ate it raw. Delicious! Later, sunning on the shore, and peering about the frozen wasteland around me, I wondered how I'd ever get out of this disguise. It was a good thing I didn't want to. Frances Staciliski had earned her money. Kookookachoo! |
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