In Defense of Swiper

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,

You are all familiar with Swiper as the ubiquitous villain of the Dora the Explorer television series; the adorable fox from the wrong side of the barrio whom we all love to hate. But to me, Swiper was so much more than just a bipedal, anthropomorphic fox thief wearing a mask and terrorizing a small Latina child and her pet monkey.

The prosecutor has claimed that my client is a criminal, but I am here today to defend Swiper; not just as his lawyer, but also because those who know him intimately realize that he could never be capable of that which he was accused. You see, the only thing Swiper ever stole was my heart.

Our star-crossed lovers’ saga began a mere two weeks ago. After hours of mindlessly flipping through my usuals (HBO, Showtime, and CSPAN), I decided to pause for a moment longer than usual on Nickelodeon to see if I had missed the most recent episode of Victorious. No sooner had I flipped to channel 502 than Swiper’s masked face filled the screen, his large black pupils seeming to pierce my own with a dark and sensual intensity. His mask and gloves added to his aura of mystery. He didn’t need to say a word – his gaze paralyzed me. I felt as if he were peering into my soul. I vaguely heard Dora, from a seemingly great distance, cry out, “Swiper, no swiping!” But it was too late. I gasped as I felt the sudden presence of a gaping abyss where my heart used to be. He had stolen it like the thieving fox he was. And I would never be the same again.

From that day on, our romance was a whirlwind. Not even our separate dimensions could keep us apart; I felt often as though I were living in a television universe where Swiper and I were the only inhabitants; the channel was perpetually set to Nickelodeon, and every day was a Dora marathon. And I knew he felt it too. With every episode, his gaze became more intense. His attempts at thievery often faltered; he was distracted. I was acutely aware of my hold on him, and I was intoxicated by my own feminine power. As much as I needed him, he needed me more. My advantageous position in this romantic hierarchy tempted me greatly, and before long, I succumbed to my desire to manipulate him.

Instead of imploring, “Swiper, no swiping,” I forced him to swipe. I told him exactly what it was I required, and with each demand, he delivered. Soon, Dora was thrown into destitution. But I had everything I ever wanted, which you have all seen in Exhibit A: all the games, maps, and backpacks that I could ever desire. And most importantly, I had Swiper. He was my addiction, my drug, and my dealer.

But then, ladies and gentlemen, everything fell apart. Dora couldn’t take it anymore. She confronted Swiper early one morning when she caught him swiping her very last juego, and kicked him off the show with a final adios. Without anywhere to go or anyone to turn to, Swiper turned to me… But at that moment, I knew that I had to turn him away. Our love was toxic, and we had already gone too far. I knew we would ruin one another, rip each other to shreds until nothing was left but pixels and bone.

That evening, crushed by my refusal to come to his aid, Swiper bought* a ticket for the first flight from LAX to Cancun, hoping to annihilate his anguish with cheap tequila and even cheaper vixens. He remained there for a week, and left his foxhole only in order to engage in various self-destructive behaviors.

Thus, I conclude: Swiper could not possibly be responsible for stealing this farmer’s sheep, as he was in another country entirely at the time of its disappearance. The burden of proof is high – you must find him guilty beyond any reasonable doubt – and I think you’ll agree that such a fragile and romantic soul would quite likely falter in the face of such heinous criminality.

Gracias.

*swiped

-LH ’16