She looked so old that she reminded me of a comic book hero of my childhood: The Heap. It was a World War I German pilot who was shot down and lay wounded for months in a bog and was slowly changed by mysterious juices into a ⅞ plant and ⅛ human thing. The Heap walked around like a mound of moldy hay and performed good deeds, and of course bullets had no effect on it. The Heap killed the comic book villains by giving them a great big hug, then instead of riding classically away into the sunset like a Western, The Heap lumbered off into the bog. That's the way the old woman looked.
The old woman carried an aura of age that made the narrator recall a character from his childhood comics—The Heap. This character, a German pilot transformed by nature into a mix of plant and human, found solace in a bog after being wounded in World War I. As a unique figure, The Heap took on villains with its oversized hugs and was impervious to bullets, embodying both strength and a sense of eerie humanity. This connection highlights the profound impact of childhood memories on adult perceptions.
The narrator's vivid comparison emphasizes the old woman's resemblance to The Heap in both appearance and the enigmatic qualities of life she exudes. Like The Heap, who engaged in good deeds despite its oddity, the old woman evokes a sense of nostalgia and mystery. Her character becomes a symbol of resilience, where the struggles of life can lead to transformation and a deeper understanding of existence, paralleling the themes of Richard Brautigan's works that blend surrealism with real human experiences.
