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A Special Edition of The East Village
PERFIDY The duck is attacking Humpty Dumpty. She is brutalizing him. The oasis is filled with their shouts. Realizing he must fight for his life, Humpty Dumpty begins to roll vigorously about the oasis, attempting to knock the duck over. Every so often the egg stops rolling, gets his bearing, beats his chest fiercely (but not so hard as to crack himself) and begins again desperately rolling, trying to knock the duck over. Of a sudden, Humpty Dumpty stops and shrieks, "Mother?! Is that you?" For who would have considered what kind of egg was Humpty Dumpty? I always assumed large chicken goose, once I thought, "Oh he's pteradactyl for sure." But never, "Duck." "Mom! It's you, isn't it!" And as the duck fumbled for an appropriate response, and just as Humpty was gathering himself so that he could articulate his rage and confusion and resentment at his mother's behavior, a duckling's head burst through Humpty's shell at his shoulder. And Humpty watched shuddering with nausea as the slim protruding head looked around, saw the smooth white face, and began murderously to peck at Humpty's eyes until there was nothing but a hole where once was Humpty's face. Then the duckling kicked the bottom out of Humpty and by a series of furtive, excited shivers, shook itself from the destroyed egg and faced its mother. And the mother, in an arpeggio of duck-noise, ran to embrace her true child.