The Giant Who Wasn't So Big For His Britches

The calico was on the prowl. Louise stood hidden among the broom bristles and hoped he hadn’t noticed her.

The cat slunk low and inched his way along the kitchen’s stone wall heading toward the broom in the corner.

Dumb girl, thought the cat. She can’t hide from me. I’ll swallow her whole and spit out her puny bones. All six inches of her. She’ll burden me no longer.

Dumb cat, thought Louise. If he lays one paw on me I’ll pluck his longest whisker and poke his eye out with it. Ha!

Dumb housekeeper, thought the giant. If she doesn’t learn how to keep a clean kitchen, I’ll have her fried in butter and served to the vulgar ogre! Look at these dustballs! Big as barn rats!

Dumb giant, thought the housekeeper. If he doesn’t start paying me a decent wage he can go scrub his own sorry knickers!

The giant finished licking his breakfast plate when he spied the calico on his daily hunt for Louise.

“Your wasting your time with that one,” said the giant. “You’d have better luck catching a slimy worm in a raging sea."

The housekeeper retrieved the giant’s breakfast plate and, standing on the tip of her toes, managed to place it on top of the towering pile on the kitchen counter.

”You can clean them anytime, dear,” said the giant. ”They miss you terribly.”

“I would if I had a mind to!” said the housekeeper. “And I don’t!”

“If you had a mind at all, I’d be much surprised, indeed!” said the giant.

“Mind what you say to me, sire,” said the housekeeper. “I know where you sleep nights!"

Before the giant had a chance to reply, the dish pile began to lean at a very disagreeable angle, creaking and moaning as it made its way toward the stove, but only staying at the stove long enough to catch its breath, hitch up its pants and travel on in the direction of the kitchen window. Once at the window the dish pile seemed quite amused at its ridiculous, though perilous, reflection. But the amusement soon wore off and the dish pile gave up its cause and came smashing down on the kitchen floor.

A snail, trapped under a butter dish near bottom of the pile, was the deciding factor in the piles downfall.

“Jack Rabbits!” said the snail, whose name was Swifty. “What does a bloody snail have to do to be heard around here!”

II

Of course, being so close to the floor, Swifty could only be seen and heard by Louise and the calico.

“What are you looking at you mangy flea forest!” said Swifty to the cat. “Give me a few hours to get over there and I’ll box your ears in!”

So stunned was the calico by the snails rude remark that he gave up his hunt for Louise and focused his attention on the snail.

“For three weeks I’ve lived off nothing but brussel sprouts!” said Swifty. “Crusty and disgusting brussel sprouts! I’m so hungry I could eat a cat! But I won’t! You know why? Because I hate cats! Cats, brussel sprouts and dust bunnies! In that order. Ever get caught up in a dust bunny storm? I’ll bet not. Why, back in ‘08 It took me four days to crawl my way out of the pantry. Dust bunnies big as ponies! They could choke a horse, they could!”

Louise and the cat listened with interest as the snail rambled on about the trials and tribulations of a common garden snail.

As Swifty went on with his tales of woe, the housekeeper reached for the broom, exposing Louise, who was left standing with her arms wrapped around a lone broom bristle.

“Oops,” said Louise. “This can’t be good.”

But the cat hadn’t noticed. He was too busy being amused with the snail.

“Uh oh,” said Swifty. “A broom. This can’t be good. It’ll be the dust bin for me, for sure.”

“Shoo, you mangy cat!” said the housekeeper. “Get out of my kitchen!”

The housekeeper swatted the calico out the back door and into the garden.

“Look at this mess!” she said.

“Serves you right,” said the giant. “Next time, don’t shirk your duties.”

“I’ll shirk you!” said the housekeeper. “Now out of the kitchen with you and your sass!”

“You don’t have to ask me twice," said the giant. “I’m leaving!"

Why do I put up with it? thought the giant. Any giant tale I ever had told to me, it was always the giant what ruled the kingdom, not the bloody housekeeper!

It was fee-fi-fo-fum! this and fee-fi-fo-fum! that. And folks shivered in their sheets at the mere thought of him stomping around the castle in his big heavy boots. Stomping on anything in his path. Friend or foe. It didn’t matter to him. He was the giant! Especially if that anything happened to be an Englishman about to have his bones ground to make the daily bread!

But here? Here it’s “Oh, it’s just the giant. Everyone continue their mischief. He’s got nothing to say about it. La-de-da, la-de-da."

Serves me right for being so thoughtful. Castle running wild with cats, ogres, talking furniture and that little sass of a lass, Louise! Why, she’s so tiny, I could maybe make a cracker out of them bones! And I will! With a little cat liver pate on the side, perhaps! Wouldn’t that be one on them!

Ah, but she’d make such a fuss and give me such an earful, my nerves would be shattered for weeks. I should get me a dog, is what I should do. A big, hairy ferocious monster of a dog! And he’ll sit by my side and do nothing but snarl all the day long. He’ll even snarl while he’s sleeping! That’ll put the fear in the lot of that bunch!

Ay, but it may just put the fear in me, too. I’m afraid that I’m afraid of the snarly things myself. Maybe a snarling fish? Yeah. Something in a bowl. Menacing. But not so menacing that he’s likely to get out of the bowl and do any actual harm to anyone.

Oh, bloody hell! I must be one of the most god awfulest giants whatever was given the name!
Maybe I’ll just have the housekeeper make me a lovely cup of warm milk and tuck me in for the rest of my blinking life!

With that the giant slammed the kitchen door and went to his yoga lessons.

I’ll deal with them all in due time, he thought.

Or maybe not.