One Arming It

"Thank you!" Booger yelled.

As we sped by on our steeds, I looked over to see an old woman by the side of the road, straightening from a bent position and smiling back at us.

"What did she do?" I asked.

The Bishop responded, his words separated by the pulsing rhythm of his steed "She - was - pick - ing - up - rub -ish."

I turned to take another look at the charitable soul.

She had one arm.

"How did she lose her arm?" again I queried.

"Not sure," said Booger, "but she's doing more with her one arm than the lazy fools who dropped their trash across our countryside."

I nodded and sped onward, making a note to lend both of my good arms to extricate the next bit of debris I came across.