Hulga sat on the hay, crying. She had been there a good hour or two, alone, after Pointer, or whatever his real name was, left. Looking out at the river through her tears, she thought about her philosophy degrees long and hard. All that money had gone to waste! She had been outsmarted by a no-good country boy crook. And to think she trusted him!
Wiping her face with the backside of her hand, Hulga tried to get up. Without her leg, she was helpless. She yelled for her mother, again and again, and finally gave up. She slept in the loft, her face covered in tears.
She woke up to find an unfamiliar face looking down at her. It was a man in overalls and a plaid shirt, whose wrinkled face indicated he was a bit older than Mrs. Hopewell.
"Well howdy! What's yer name? Don't ya got a place to sleep other than my barn?"
Hulga didn't respond.
"Well, I guess we should get'cha offa here. Ain't no use stayin' here, ain't dere? I don't see none."
The man helped her maneuver off of the loft and down the ladder, and the two came to a resting place on the ground. The man was exhausted from helping the gigantic woman, and was breathing heavily.
"Thanks," Hulga said.
"Oh, so yew can talk!" the man uttered as he was catching his breath. "I'm Bob. What's yer name?"
"Joy," Hulga said.
"Joy! What a pretty name!"
As the man turned around to get a bottle of water on a nearby haystack, Hulga grabbed a garden hoe and violently stabbed the man to death.
"I never liked that name myself, motherfucker," said Hulga.