My favorite nursery rhyme has always been Humpty Dumpty. I recall feeling so sad for that poor soon-to-be scrambled egg, and so mad at all of those kings men for not being able to put him back to good again.
But I was also a little miffed at Humpty. What the hell was he doing on that wall, anyways? Didn’t he realize how dangerous it was way up there?
On second thought, he could have tripped on a pebble and deviled himself just as easily by walking down the street.
The point of my tale is not to make everyone hungry for egg salad, but to show how many separate emotions we can all have inside of us at any given time. I felt sorry for Humpty, but I also wanted to give him a smack right on his little bum.
Perhaps Humpty was depressed and decided to tempt fate. There could have been a scandal ensuing against him, one never knows.
It could have even been an accident, but I bet my limited income it’s because he was a talking egg and shunned by his own kind.
Not even fit for breakfast. Signed, Humpty.
Good news! I heard Mrs. Dumpty won the lawsuit against The King, by the way.
She dated The Cat for a while, diddled The Fiddle, then finally ran away with The Spoon.
She wasn’t good enough for you anyways, Humpty.