Muffy, in her deep gratitude for being saved, invited the Jehovah's Witness missionary to stay for breakfast. She told him her name, and asked his. "They call me SJB", he said. "Do you have any family locally that you could call to come sit with you while you get over your ordeal?"
"Well", said Muffy, "that's a long story. If you have the time, I'll tell you all about it."
SJB smiled briefly, looked at his watch, shrugged his shoulders, then said "Sure, why not?"
Muffy began her long story. A story she had told to many psychiatrists over the past few years, as she was searching for relief from those horrible nightmares. A story that, if she hadn't lived it herself, would have found difficult to believe. True storybook stuff.
"Shortly after I was born, I was left at the doorstep of an orphanage in a wicker basket. The only identifying information was a scrap of paper with the numbers '6-19-74' written on it.
"The caretaker found me early the next morning, crying loudly because I had been hit by the newspaper thrown out of the delivery man's car. He quickly scooped me up and carried me around the back of the orphanage to his little cottage.
"The caretaker, childless himself, had always wanted the opportunity to care for an infant. He kept me a secret from the orphanage administration. He named me 'Murphy' after his favorite dog that had recently passed away.
"Years passed. I had no outside contact with other children, and nobody knew I was there. The caretaker dug a cellar underneath his cottage and furnished it for me. I had all the toys I needed. He provided school books, which he himself read to me and worked the assignments with me. Then, one day when I was 8, while he was changing a light bulb in the women's restroom at the orphanage, someone walked in and flipped the light on. He was electrocuted instantly.
"I got worried that night when he didn't return as usual with meals for both of us from the orphanage kitchen. The next day when he still hadn't returned, I suspected the worst. That he would never return.
"Many months before this happened, the caretaker had prepared a hand written name tag for me just in case something like this ever happened. I pinned the name tag on my blouse and ventured out for the very first time ever to visit the orphanage.
"It was raining that day. The ink on my name tag got blurred by the raindrops. When I knocked on the front door of the orphanage, the orphanage administrator opened it. He saw me standing there, soaking wet, and saw my name badge. "Oh, you poor child", said MrB. "Come in out of the rain. We'll take care of you ... what's your name? Oh, I see your name tag. It's hard to read it because of the rain. Looks like ... Muffy? Ok, Muffy, come on in."
"Murphy", I said. "OK, Miss Muffy Murphy", he said. "Come on in."
"From that day forward, I've been known as 'Muffy Murphy'. Ironic, isn't it? My initials are 'MM'." SJB just stared at Muffy blankly. Apparently he wasn't into the securities industry.
Muffy continued, "The caretaker had done an excellent job of schooling me, and the orphanage administration quickly discovered I was 3 years ahead of the other students my age. MrB contacted the head of the local Mensa group, who promised to send someone over to meet and interview me.
"The Mensa representative was a young, virile male, about 6'2". Dark hair. Muscular build. Obviously a body builder. He was wearing a "Chicago Bulls" jersey. I can still remember every detail about him. He was carrying a ....
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