He got Batman. I got Robin.
And of course, one glorious Christmas morning, he received the Lone Ranger perched upon Silver.
I opened a box containing Tonto in full suede ensemble, sitting proudly on Scout.
I loved it.
I loved the characters that I became and the fact that their purpose was to make the main hero look good. Being second fiddle appealed to something within me. I relished being the man in the shadows while someone else basked in the spotlight. I related best with the goon, the hired help, the anti-hero. I did my part to save the day even if it meant I was the one to take the bullet or get tied in a knot or have his bionics removed from his chest. It was all performed for the greater good. It was my duty.
I am Tonto.