promotion

Ramon, my barber — not my stylist, my barber — was over in fifteen minutes. He was a bit awkward and sweat like a fat kid, but he was a maestro with scissors and a comb. When he saw Wonder Woman's puffy mane, he gave a little yelp and shielded his eyes. We put her in my bathrobe and sat her on a barstool in the kitchen, where light streamed in through the sliding glass door. Ramon did a quick diagnosis: "Sun damage, split ends, slightly dry scalp; she's been using a five-dollar shampoo from the drugstore, and I see no evidence of conditioning. Honey," he said, "you have really let yourself go. But fear not. Ramon will fix this mess."

The transformation was astounding. The cut accentuated her chiseled cheekbones and large oval eyes. It was shorter than I had wanted, but Ramon is the expert, and he seemed pleased. After he rubbed product in her hair, it was spiky and wild; she reminded me now of a punk-rock girl from '82. When Wonder Woman looked in the mirror, she started to sob, and we both consoled her. "It's gorgeous," I said.

"It's really gorgeous," said Ramon.

"Just what you needed," I said.

"Honey, you look eight years younger," Ramon said, "believe me."

She eventually smiled and thanked us. On his way out, Ramon said to her, "You don't happen to know Wonder Man, do you? Or, better yet, Wonder Boy?"

"I'm not sure they exist," she said.

That evening, again: Wonder Tongue, Wonder Cunt, Wonder Orgasm, and a glazed face. Wonder Woman made the sounds Wonder Woman makes when in the throes of ecstasy.

We held each other long into the night. She told me the story of how she became a Wonder. It was a story I already knew from the TV show, but I pretended to be hearing it for the first time. My heart went yakkety-yak for her. With a ten-inch tongue that twirled like an electric mixer, who needed a penis?

The next day I took her to my job, because I was afraid to leave her alone in my house. I worked on a construction crew because the pay was great, the physical labor beneficial, and because I had somehow inherited my father's talent with power tools. We were building a three-story office structure. There were twenty of us on the job: carpenters, masons, electricians, etc. When I arrived with Wonder Woman at seven a.m. I called an urgent meeting, and we gathered out front by the scrap pile.

"All right, ladies, listen up," I said. "I have Wonder Woman with me today. I put some clothes on her, so you apes won't be scratching after her all day. She's here to help, so please be thoughtful. She needs a little change of routine, that's all."

I saw Wonder Woman glance at the stacks of wood, the piles of brick, the bags of cement and the various table saws. With her Wonder Speed, she circled the half-built structure several times in a red-and-blue blur. A minute later, the office building was finished, sparkling in the morning sun. The windows were in and the plumbing operational.

There were hoots and hollers and a general din of approval.

"All right," I said. "Let's call it a day, girls. Our work is done here."

As my coworkers dispersed to their pickup trucks, shaking hands as if they had finished the building, George ambled up to me. "Hey," he said, "maybe after Wonder Woman splits, you and I could, you know, get together some time."

"Oh, I don't know, George. We'll see, okay?" and then the girl and I skipped away arm in arm.

Again, that morning: Wonder Woman made the sounds Wonder Woman makes when in the throes of ecstasy.

I put on my bunny suit because I needed to feel animal. Wonder Woman drew a bath and painted her toenails purple. I sat on the toilet lid, tended to my cuticles and watched her.

"I think I'd like to try a girl, Bunny," she said. "Nothing against you, I just feel like exploring. I don't know who I am anymore."

"Oh, I know the perfect lesbian. She'd love you. She's a bit butch, but she has a striking figure and very sexy voice. She's a bike courier."

Wonder Woman said, "She'll do."

Becky came over that night, and right away, they retreated to my bedroom. Wonder Woman made the sounds she makes when in the throes of ecstasy. I stood at the door and listened to the slurping and groaning, to Becky saying, "My God, your nipples drip honey!" Then I sat in the den and sulked. This jealousy wasn't natural for me. I speculated about a possible metamorphosis within.

Everywhere in nature, the animals were behaving strangely. The weather was doing weird things with the clouds and the wind.

Afterward, Becky said, "I'm in love and taking her with me. My face is glazed, and this is a first. We belong together."

"The hell you do, bitch."

"You can't stop me, bitch."

"I'll slap your bitch face," I said.