I was driving down the street, looked over at something moving in the gutter, and I quickly recognized it as a human form. I threw on the brakes, got out, walked over to where the pathetically-dirty thing lay. It was a young woman. I quickly saw that she was in dire need of help, so I put her in my car, took her to a car wash and turned the hose on her. Cleaned up, she wasn't half-bad looking. She hadn't eaten much lately, so she wasn't Rubenesque in the least. I took her to a fast food restaurant and bought her a cheap meal that she quickly devoured; it probably saved her life, and was well worth the 79 cents. I thought about taking her back to the gutter, but that seemed like an "Unchristian-like thing to do", and besides she was now clean, and I had spent 79 cents on her, so what could I do but take her home for the night.
The next morning was a real awakening as to what this poor soul needed, and it scared me when I realized the task before me. She had a vocabulary of about twenty words, and most of them were bad words that she had heard people yell at her; she thought they were her names. It took me several weeks to teach her to talk, but she seemed to learn quickly, so I didn't get overly bored with her progress. As time passed and she progressed (all thanks to me), she learned to drive and to finally hold a fork correctly (in that order).
While she was cooking, cleaning, washing, and ironing she picked up my violin to try it out. I came home to find her playing something that sounded like Chopsticks for violin. I could see that I would have to teach her to play well if I were going to have to listen to her practice. It took a while, but she did learn to play well enough that I thought she was ready for more lessons that I did not have time for. She was going to have to get a job to earn the money for her lessons. What could I do but send her to college so she could get a teacher's license. Since she spoke Gibberish so well as her first languare, she picked up German and Chinese quickly, so language was her major, and that was her path to the "world of work", money, violin lessons, and becoming concert master of the Indianapolis Philharmonic Orchestra.
I soon realized that I had invested a lot of time, effort, and money in the wench, and if I were to ever get something back, I'd HAVE TO (let me breathe here) M A R R Y her. I just closed my eyes and did it. Soon I was no longer driving my Corvette. I was in a station wagon with her and two screaming yahoos who had the same birthday one year apart. I leave the years between then and now to your imagination, but I feel a sense of pride and my typical humility when I look at her and realize that I made her what she is today.
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