Reconstructing the Shell Words by

Sheridan Merrick

It’s a real shame they don’t tell you the rest of Humpty Dumpty’s story.

See, all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again -- but the women weren’t so easily deterred. They knew how to squint into the concrete’s crevices, searching for signs of sparkle. They knew to divide into teams, to chat and to laugh as they patiently picked up the pieces. And sure enough, piece by piece, they found who Humpty once was. They laid her out on the ground like a puzzle and reconstructed her shell. “There you are!” they said, as they smoothed over her cracks with their fingertips. “Good as new!” But she wasn’t, not really. For not only was Humpty now covered in scars which flowered over her body like veins, she was missing one piece, right beside her left eye. “Well that’s okay,” the women said, “at least most of you is here.” But Humpty could not recognize herself, and began to cry. “Where is my missing piece?” she wailed, and the women said, “you are complete to us,” and gently patted her back. This went on for some time, and the sun slowly set to the sounds of Humpty's sob sob sob, and the women’s pat pat pat and shh shh shh, until finally -- what do you know? Humpty let out an enormous BELCH! and burped up the last missing piece of herself.

(Okay so yes, this may be a little grotesque, but such is what happens when you swallow a bit of yourself on the way down down down, shattering, retaining only that which you've lost.)