“The Legend of Humbert Dumphy” (StoryADay Challenge/Day 13)

THE PROMPT (by Gabriela Pereira, is a writer, teacher, and self-proclaimed word nerd who wants to challenge the status quo of higher education. As the founder and instigator of DIYMFA.com, her mission is to empower writers to take an entrepreneurial approach to their education and professional growth.)

Choose a nursery rhyme.

That is going to be the plot of your story.

*

“The Legend of Humbert Dumphy”

The tavern was crowded, like every other Friday night. Bartenders making their rounds, dishing out plates of soaked hot wings, beers, and other finger foods to large parties. The roar of countless conversations happening hovered over the place. The gentlemen, with loosened ties, rolled up shirt sleeves and sweaty foreheads. The ladies, their hair in worry-free buns, cursing like sailors and embracing it. In the back of the establishment was a private party, it was in celebration of one Humbert Dumphy. 

“Six vodkas straight, four shots of tequila, and three whiskeys with cranberry. Will there be anything else?” the barkeeper said. “You two must be with the party in the back.”

“Yes we are,” they both said together. They looked at each other and smiled.

“Sorry. I’m Morgan, and this is my coworker Andre”

“Nice to meet both of you,” the barkeeper said. “I’m Tony. Do you want me to send these drinks to the table or do you Andre prefer to carry the tray yourself?”

“He’ll carry them,” Morgan answered. 

“So what’s the occasion?” Tony asked.

“It’s for our CEO Humbert Dumphy, ever heard of him?” Andre asked.

“Thee Humbert Dumphy? Have I ever heard of him? Who hasn’t?” 

Andre rolled his eyes. 

“Thank you for the drinks Tony,” Morgan said, ending the conversation.

“Everyone thinks he’s so great,” Andre said. “If they only knew.”

“What do you expect? He is incredibly good at what he does.” 

“So being good at what you do means you can treat people as subhuman?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Morgan said. “I’m just saying it’s easy for people to be impressed by the facade without any real insight into the inner workings of people or things.”

“I guess,” Andre said.

“There they are! I thought you two left and had a quickie or something,” Humbert Dumphy said, holding his drink up to the table before downing a shot.

Everyone laughed. When Humbert Dumphy made a joke, you laughed. You didn’t even analyze the content of the joke. You laughed. And you made sure your fake laughter was detection-proof. People crowded around Dumphy like flies to feces. They wanted to look like him. They wanted his charisma. They wanted his style. They wanted his off-brand humor. And most of all they wanted his success. And they would do anything to get it.

Humbert Dumphy thrived under pressure. He relished being the center of attention. He liked having things his way. He held all the cards, and he dealt them out. Everything that happened in this company was all under his watchful meticulous eyes. He ran through assistants feverishly. Anytime whispers would arise about alleged sexual misconduct, assistants would be replaced like lightbulbs. Company lore has it that allegedly Dumphy has a six-figure retainer bank account filled with “hush money” for the revolving door of assistants. To even become his prestigious assistant, a non-disclosure agreement must be signed first. Perhaps it would be more alarming to a vast number of applicants if the benefits weren’t so impressive. Let’s just say being Humbert Dumphy’s personal assistant comes with an array of perks. 

Humbert Dumphy is the quintessential definition of an egomaniac. At board meetings, I can see the spark in his eyes when he crushes someone’s soul for disagreeing with his proposal. He’s a shark that thrives on eating smaller fish. He surrounds himself with enablers. To survive in his ecosystem you must be a type-A brown-noser. Humbert Dumphy doesn’t want his firmly held beliefs questioned or challenged for that matter. Not in the house that Dumphy built. At another board meeting a few months ago, Destiny, an executive at the company made a wonderful presentation on how to implement new marketing strategies that would further drive revenue into the stratosphere. The presentation was brilliant. She actually received a round of applause from the other board members. Humbert Dumphy sat in his premium leather chair, his polished shoes on the table, his hands folded together. He sat there silently. The meeting ended. And the next day, I saw Destiny carrying a box of her belongings past my desk with tears in her eyes. I was shocked. Destiny contributed, I know for a fact, to a very substantial increase in revenue over the last three quarters. That kind of growth increase--that fast-- hasn’t been seen in this company for some time. But Humbert Dumphy, or as others call him behind his back, Humpty Dumpty, is the power broker of this castle. It’s his way or no way.

It came with no large outpouring of sadness or grief, when it was discovered that Humbert Dumphy was thrown off the balcony of his luxury sky-rise penthouse. Some say a beauty knocked his door and after she was in, she set him up. Some say it was Destiny’s husband seeking revenge. Some say it was karma. Some say that was the result of unchecked ego. And some, like me, will never know the truth of what really happened to Humbert Dumphy, but there are some questions in life that I’m absolutely fine with not knowing the answers to.

The End.

**This is a work of fiction. Names. characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

“Humpty Dumpty”

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men

Couldn’t put Humpty together again.