I was late for the Prom, and it was cold on Baffin Bay. Probably about twenty-five below zero, but the wind kicked it up a notch. She said she was going to pick me up in the Land Rover, but she was late, as usual. I didn’t want to go to this thing...I sat at the table, watching the light snow drift into shapeless bundles, and decided it was probably time to lumber into my bedroom and, in perfect adolescent hangdog manner, dress into the old tuxedo that Dad had loaned me.
Although the pants, shirt, and vest fit snugly, I was missing something. A cummerbund. I remember this irked me so viciously I began pacing, worrying that if I was actually going to attend this event, I at least wanted to be in the proper outfit. Dad was on tour with the band again and couldn’t be reached. I peeked out the window. No sign of headlights.
The phone rang. It was her – she was on her way and would be there in five minutes. I said okay – and looked around the house for anything that would act as a cummerbund double. And then it hit me. I grabbed a machete and a thick log from the workroom, threw on a coat and raced outside into the snow. At the edge of the bay was a walrus, curled next to a rock. I hammered its head as hard as I could over and over again, until I was sure it was at least unconscious. It let out a snotty moan, then I proceeded to hack off its rear third. Once I had removed the flesh chunk, I sliced it horizontally, revealing its lower digestive tract. As carefully as I could in the wind, I carved out the walrus’ rectum.
The animal hadn’t eaten recently so the rectum wasn’t too messy as I washed it in the workroom sink. There was a beep outside, and I knew that this situation, and perhaps most hardships I'd be confronted with in life would work out just fine. Beautifully, in fact. I stretched the clean walrus rectum around my waist, and was so confident I didn’t even bother to look in the mirror before I went back outside in the snow.
