Humpty has been in the background for far too long in my opinion. He’s a really nice guy. Hope you enjoy this little trip into his head:)

As for the next journal, not sure yet if you’re going to get Miss Muffet, Jack, or Dorothy next. We’ll all be surprised!

Note: I made a small change to the strip — changed the spelling of “senior” to “signore” which is the Italian spelling — and it doubled the strip up again… Huh. Wish I could find a way to make it not do that when I clearly click “replace image”…

Oh, and the text:
I do a lot for Mother Goose and the others: cooking healthy meals, keeping the peace, minding my own goo, not smoking inside. I’m a giving kinda egg-man but I gotta tell ya, there are some moments…
That last mission. Venice, right? Great city, nice folks. I started to walk into the nearest shop for some intel, like Miss Muffet and Dorothy and presumably Jack went off to do, but I heard someone down the way call out.
“Signore, come in, come in!”
A guy wearing a cook’s apron was grinning and waving, asking me into his shop. Well, I’m always interested in new cuisine and fellow chefs so I put on a big smile and went in. Smelled pretty good but as soon as I walk in, the guy put a tray of poached eggs right under my nose and I nearly fainted!
Now, I know I’m not supposed to be upset by that sorta thing but I also know I’m not supposed to even BE an egg, least of all a walking, talking egg-man. I’ve been cracked, shelled, stretched, enlarged, and shrunk. I can turn into wood or metal or whatever I want, but I always turn back into… well… me. I can’t help what I am, just like I can’t help getting upset over seeing my ‘brethren’ cooked. Sometimes ya just gotta suck it up and move on, too, like my goo. Huh… I haven’t been very leaky lately. That’s a good thing, right? Gotta keep positive. One day soon maybe I won’t be so cracked up and in pain all the time. Heck, I’ll suffer some egg-citement for that.