Snappy is part of a devious plan I have hatched to bend David Sedaris to my will. I am a big fan of Sedaris, whose essays (particularly when he is reading them aloud) are hysterically funny. Ed and I went to see him do a reading at a theater in downtown Denver a few weeks ago, and I came armed with a book, eager to meet him afterward and add another signed work to my collection, which hasn't grown a lick since we left New York.
The moment we entered the theater, though, I knew I was in trouble. The place was huge, and Sedaris is famous for gabbing with people in his signing lines, which makes them move at a glacial pace. I enjoyed the reading very much, and I have never seen Ed hoot so loudly and frequently at a literary event, but my fears turned out to be justified. People left the reading early to queue up outside, and the line was enormous by the time we left the theater. It was 10:00 P.M. and a 45-minute drive stood between us and Boulder. If I'd been alone, I may have toughed it out, but I didn't want to subject Ed or our friend to the line. So I left, feeling sad but resigned.
I figured I'd send my book to Little Brown, Sedaris's publishing house, but my hopes weren't that high. He's a busy guy, and I figured I had little hope of getting him to take the time to sign my book. Then I had an idea. Along with my book, I would send him a gift so wonderful and quirky that he would be charmed and sign my book out of gratitude rather than obligation. And that gift was Snappy.
The longest story Sedaris read that night featured a snapping turtle with a large tumor on its head that he has observed many times in the creek by his beach house. On Amazon, I found a life-like, if small, plastic snapping turtle that would fit the bill. But then I got a better idea: to truly replicate the turtle in Sedaris's story, I had to add a tumor.
I went to the craft store with Snappy in my purse and chose some polymer clay in several colors so that I could customize the tumor to match his scaly hide. Then I set to work. I was proud of the bulbous lump I created, but when I went to peel it off for baking I found it was impossible to remove it from his head without mangling it. I started again, this time pressing the clay more gently against his head while forming the lump. Pulling it off was still difficult, though, and when the finished product came out of the oven its edges weren't flush with Snappy's head and neck. I couldn't send Sedaris a sub-par tumor.
I was worried that Snappy would melt if I put him into a 275-degree oven, but I was out of ideas. So I attached a third tumor to his cranium and preheated the oven. My plan was to submerge him in ice water with nothing but the tumor protruding. This, I hoped, would keep him cool as the clay baked.
 |
| Snappy was pretty buoyant, so I had to weight him down with an apple slicer. |
Unfortunately, the ice bath worked a little too well. Snappy stayed chilly, but the clay did too. At the end of 15 minutes, it was as soft as it had been in the beginning. So I decided to scale back the ice. After all, I had no use for a plastic snapping turtle, so if he melted all I'd wasted was time. I was worried about his underside contacting the hot dish, so I balanced him on top of a sardine can filled with ice, stuck him back in the oven, and hoped for the best.
 |
| Post-sauna. |
I shipped him off today, rubber banded to the book I hope Sedaris will sign, with a note and a pre-paid envelope so that one of Sedaris's minions can easily send the book back to me. Even if Sedaris doesn't have the time to sign my book, I hope Snappy will at least make him smile.
