The Ballad Of The One-Armed Man

2 11 2009
The One-Armed Man

The One-Armed Man

About six months ago, a little plastic toy showed up at work.  Actually, it’s just a torso with an arm.  I don’t know where it came from, or how it got there, but nevertheless, it showed up.  This is particularly strange in that there are very rarely kids at work and it’s unlikely they’d have any toys if they were there.

The torso looks like a piece of Duplo™ or maybe a piece from one of those Kinder Surprise™ eggs that you get at the supermarket, with the constructible toys inside.  If you know the actual identity of the figure, please let me know.

When it showed up, I was sitting with the book-keeper at work, Anne M.  We were chatting between classes as we often do, and I spotted it, and put it on my finger tip. It was one of those bizarre moments which, for some reason, we both found inexplicably hilarious.  I’m not certain who did it first, but since that day, we’ve taking turns hiding the little man around the office where it sits unmolested until the other finds it, and re-hides it.

A couple of good places have been blue-tacked under the height adjustment lever of Anne’s office chair, and she hid it on one of the support struts on a desk in the classroom.  Another time I kidnapped the little arm and placed it on her car bonnet over at the parking lot.

I always know she finds it because I get an SMS like “Idiot” or “Cretin!” when she eventually spots it.  Rest assured, I respond in kind.

The one-armed man is in my possession at the moment, and I’m pondering a spot to put him. Since the others who work in the office aren’t in on the joke, it needs to be a place where he won’t be thrown out as garbage.  My dream hide would be to actually post it to her, so it’s in her mail at home, or even better to find out where he’s from, buy a billion of them and scatter them all over the office as though they’d multiplied.  That’s a little unrealistic though.

For now though, the ballad of the one-armed man remains unfinished.

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