Humpty Dumpty

Word has spread throughout the hallways at school that if you need someone to help you in the restroom look no further than Mr. Ritchason. It should be noted that just because I cleaned up one student’s fecal matter doesn’t mean that I’m a rubber glove-clad Superman swooping in at a moment’s notice to remove a still-warm turd from the floor. Yesterday I was walking back to my classroom when an assistant from one of the special ed rooms stopped me to ask for help with one of her boys in the restroom. He had peed his pants a few minutes earlier and was trying unsuccessfully to get on some clean underwear. When I walked into the restroom I discovered that he had gotten them almost all the way up but couldn’t get them past his little privates. It looked like two little Humpty Dumptys sitting atop the elastic waistband with his little wiener poking out the top. Um, how exactly was I supposed to help him with this? Keeping a considerable distance between the two of us, I used my go go Gadget arms to hold on to the sides of the underpants and pull them up. I immediately realized what the problem was. He hadn’t thought to clean himself up so his nether regions were still wet. It’s like trying to shove cucumbers into those cheap plastic bags in the produce section after those misty sprayers have just washed them. They just keep sticking to the sides of it and your fingers end up wet. I reached out and tugged them up even harder trying to get them past the Berlin Wall of genitals. As I pulled them up the elastic snapped against him and he screamed out “You hurt my nuts!” Satisfied that my part of the task was complete, I passed him back off to the assistant. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men, couldn’t put Humpty’s nuts together again.