Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

Part of my new project: The Many Deaths of Humpty Dumpty.

As the young Humpty Dumpty pulled clothes from his locker, a spit wad stuck to the back of his shell.

Humpty didn’t feel it. That’s one of the perks and pains of not having skin.

He slammed the door shut and made his way to gym class. As the boys all changed into their shorts and T-shirts, Humpty carefully wrapped himself in bubble wrap. After all, when one is an egg, one must be extremely careful while playing basketball or dodge ball or with any ball.

As he entered the gym, a foot came out of nowhere to trip him. Poor round Humpty rolled all the way to midcourt, his protective wrap popping and snapping the entire way.

“Egg!” the coach shouted, “Quit screwing around and get up. This isn’t an omelet pan!”

All of the boys erupted in laughter. Humpty rocked himself up and got in line with the rest of his class—all human boys.

“Today, men,” the coach shouted for no reason, “we climb the rope!”

Half of the boys seemed really excited. The other half seemed nervous. Humpty went into hysterics.

“Sir,” he whimpered. “Coach!” he said a little louder. “Hey!” He was unable to raise his voice above the sound of sliding mats and feet on floor.

Boy after boy climbed the rope. One even hit the bell at the top. Humpty was next. He approached the rope.

“Sir,” he said to the coach.

“What is it, egg?”

“It isn’t safe. I can’t climb the rope.”

“Sure you can.”

“But sir, I am brittle and round. My shape isn’t ideal for climbing anything—ladders, walls, and especially ropes.”

“The coach looked down his crooked nose at the young Humpty Dumpty. “You will climb this rope,” he sneered, “or you will die trying.”

“But I have a note. I’m not supposed to engage in any kind of …”

The coach cut Humpty off by shoving the rope in his face. Humpty looked into his coach's eyes one more time. Coach simply mouthed go.

So Humpty climbed. He pulled with his little stick arms and pushed with is little stick legs. The rope hissed against his calcified exterior.

But near the top, Humpty’s grip slipped.

He let out a shriek before he plummeted to the floor.

There was a horrific crack. A terrible splat. And the entire class of boys along with the coach were spattered with albumen and yolk.

“Oh,” the coach mumbled. “This is bad. Quick, boys, we need to put him back together.”

So they tried. They called in the art teacher. Her glue wouldn’t hold. They called in the science teacher, but his suggestion of solidifying the liquid parts with heat didn’t help with the shell. The school nurse was at a total loss for she had not enough bandages.

They just simply couldn’t put Humpty together again.