He’s the happy idiot whom love couldn’t kill. He’s wearing green floodwaters and polished dancing shoes and his dime-store mustache is falling off. He’s still waiting for the ice cream truck and playing with yoyos in the cool orange evening. And all he wants is a defender, someone to watch over him. And he’s deaf and dumb, dumb as a doornail. Never said a word to anyone in his life. The town is tiny and helpless against the hills and heat of Georgia. The kids’ eyes are like sour olives, piercing your soul. He’s the happy idiot whom love couldn’t kill and he wants someone to watch over him.

He climbs the monkey bars on the playground and watches kids fling water balloons into the glorious sunset. Girls on the swings are fighting and crying and having drama. While the geese fly home Mr. Walrus waits like a soap opera. No one speaks to him and he’d like to spill his soul but can’t cause he’s deaf. Some stoner kids come lolling around town, bound for trouble. He walks home to his apartment and finds the eviction notice on his door. No, bother. With a small sigh, he packs his few belongings and sets out into the world.

Someone if only someone could watch over him.

They all spill their guts to him, strangers in a bus terminal headed for lonely and ugly destinations. The undertaker links his arms and walks with him. The bar waitress tells him her secrets. The foster teen teetering on the brink of drugs and sexual abuse reveals to him the beauty and tenderness in her heart. He nods and listens like the happy, understanding idiot he is. “Hey, Mr. Walrus? Could you stop and talk for a while? Seems I’ve been waiting all my life for someone like you. I’ve been looking for a great defender, someone to look out for me. You must be the one.”