As it's told, the tale of Humpty Dumpty is a short one, and doesn't make much sense to the common populous, yet here, in the small hamlet of Bedstol, a much more grim and dismal story is known.
"Sure I remember when ol' Humpty went off the wall. Poor soul. 'sif been born an egg wasn' enough."
A stale smell of whiskey and tobbacco on his breath, Brant Harding sits across from me, stoking a slowly burning stove fire. "A freak o' nature or summat, 'e was, popped outta 'is mam like, heh, well an egg I s'pose. Doctor di'n't know whadda think. She got rid of [Humpty] quick smart, though 'intshee, didn't want no stinkin egg for a son. Fair go eh, though. She brought him to me orphanage after she got outta the 'ospital and skipped town, not before givin' him a half-wit name like Humpty Dumpty. Registed an' everythin', nothing I could do for the boy. Nobody knows the father, prolly some travellin' bard with a bit o' extra dosh's my bet. Raised 'im like any other, though, well an' good. 'e knew he was different, and the other kids didn't let him forget it."
As Harding retells the fable, I can't help but notice a lack of, well to be honest, everything.
I inquire as to why this is.
"Leads me to the secon' part o' the story, innit. You can prolly guess that Humpty di'n't have an easy life by any means, definitely not an 'appy one either. Kids, you know, they don' like anything different, 'specially don' like getting ignored in favour of something that's not the norm.
Originally Posted by Jackhammer
I've beaten them both. 
