One thing you could count on, same as death, taxes, win some, lose some, was Frankie Diperino was one mean dude. Shoot you for looking at him wrong. When he turned nice, there had to be an explanation. “Diperino,” said the doctors, ” You’re dying. Got a month at most.”
Humpty and Dumpty lied; did so, hoping the news would calm him.
When Diperino caught on it was ready, aim and fire. Bullet met target, bodies fell, things looked grim.
You can guess the rest.
None of their doctors, and none of their friends could put Humpty or Dumpty together again.
Michael Drezin’s short stories and micro-fiction have been published internationally on the net and in print. He can be reached at NyCTSstories@gmail.com
