She was a pleasant enough woman on first meeting. Her appearance was that of a Humpty Dumpty; round stout body with short arms that flapped without any direction, looking older than her actual years.
The rumor was in dog years she was about 8 or 9.
She talked the talk and never missed a beat. Smooth. Like satin.
But that first impression had a slight crack in it. Something was amiss. Something not good.
She sat perched against the wall in her office with her computer inches from her face.
She typed all day. Her stubby little fingers banged the keyboard loudly echoing in her bare, cold, unadorned, unfriendly office.
Grunts. Guttural grunts. Not the least bit lady-like.
Those near her said she farted often.
So frugal and cheap she would re-use tissues over and over again.
Late one night her gall bladder decided to fight her. Hard angry gallstones. It caused her lots of pain she couldn’t release so she took it out on everyone around her.
That slight crack traveled all around her Humpty Dumpty shell. Seeping through the crack was her one true self…
Mean. Angry. Hateful.
One sunny afternoon a fire engine siren was piercing the air. She stepped down from her perch and stood in the window to watch it race by. She loved the possibility of other people’s misery.
Then something happened…
The hateful Humpty Dumpty lady fell out the window. Was she pushed? Was she shoved?
No one’s talking.
She hit the sidewalk with a thud. Scattered pieces everywhere.
Passersby stepped over her broken-ness.
We had a choice. We could pick her up and put her back together or…
Then someone remembered the next day was street cleaning day.
We decided to let the street sweeping truck do it.
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