The Big Fella’s Side of Jack and the Beanstalk

“The Big Fella’s Side of Jack and the Beanstalk” By Edward, J. McCoul

Oi! Where to start? Name’s Gregor. Folks call me “The Giant,” but that ain’t fair. I’m not just a giant, I’m the giant - one-of-a-kind! Thought I’d clear the air ‘bout that little pipsqueak Jack and his precious beanstalk. Everyone thinks they know what happened, but lemme tell ya, nobody asked my side of the story.

First off, I wasn’t bothering nobody. Just up in my cloud, minding my own business, running my egg-laying goose empire. Nice setup, right? Cozy castle, magic harp for tunes, golden eggs for spending money. Life was good until Jack showed up with his tree ladder, pokin’ his nose where it didn’t belong.

Now, I know what you’re thinkin’. “Gregor, how’d you miss a kid climbing into your house?” Great question. Truth is, I’ve got allergies. Clouds are fluffy, sure, but they’re also full of dust. My sinuses? A wreck. I sneeze so loud sometimes, I can’t hear a thing. That’s how the little bugger snuck in the first time.

The First Visit

I’m sittin’ there in my dining hall, polishing off my usual breakfast—a loaf of bread the size of a mattress and a tub of butter I churn myself (don’t ask) - when I hear this creak. Now, my castle’s old, so I just figure it’s the beams settling. But then I get that tingly feeling. You know, like when you’re sure someone’s watching you?

“Fee-fi-fo-fum,” I say to myself. “I smell the blood of an Englishman.” I always say that. It’s like my catchphrase. But this time, there really was a human!

So I stomp over to the cupboard, thinking I’ll find some little pest stealing my snacks. Instead, there’s this scrawny kid with a ridiculous haircut shoving my golden eggs into a sack.

“Oi!” I bellow. “What’re ya doin’, ya little weasel?”

Jack freezes, clutching my eggs like they’re his last meal. “Uh… um… eggs? What eggs? These are, uh, my eggs!” he stammers.

“Yer eggs?” I snort. “Those came from my goose, ya thievin’ twig!”

“Well,” Jack says, not missing a beat, “have you ever considered... sharing?”

Sharing?! I was so stunned by his cheek that I didn’t grab him right away. Instead, I crossed my arms and glared. “Why should I share? Yer on my turf, kid.”

“Oh, uh… you’re right,” he said, backing away slowly. “I’ll just leave these here, and, oh, what’s that over there?” He points behind me like I’m daft, and of course, I turn around. When I whip back, the little sneak’s already halfway down the beanstalk!

The Goose Incident

Now, I ain’t no genius, but even I knew Jack’d come back. He wanted my goose, the one that lays golden eggs. Every day, that bird drops enough to buy me a lifetime supply of meat pies. You think I’m givin’ that up?

Sure enough, a few days later, I catch him sneaking around again. This time, he’s after my goose. I corner him in the coop.

“Gotcha now!” I roar. “What d’ya have to say fer yerself, eh?”

Jack, bold as brass, says, “Nice goose you’ve got here. Mind if I borrow it? Just for, you know, a little while?”

“Borrow?” I bark. “That goose is like family!”

“Exactly!” Jack grins. “Wouldn’t you want your goose to see the world? Broaden its horizons?”

Now, I’ll admit, I got a bit emotional. I never thought about whether my goose wanted to travel. Maybe she did wanna see the world. But before I could answer, Jack grabs the bird and bolts, yelling, “I’ll send her a postcard!”

By the time I realized what happened, he was halfway down that blasted beanstalk again.

The Harp Heist

The third time? Oh, I was ready. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice? Well, that’s just rude. I set traps. I oiled the beanstalk to make it slippery. I even got earplugs so I wouldn’t be distracted by sneezes. No way was Jack gonna outsmart me again.

Or so I thought.

I’m takin’ a nap when I hear the harp playing itself. Not unusual, it’s a magic harp. But the tune was all off. Sounded like someone was dragging it. I peek out from under my blanket, and there’s Jack, trying to lug my harp out the door.

“Put that down!” I shout, jumping up so fast I hit my head on the ceiling.

“Whoa, big guy!” Jack says, sweating bullets. “I didn’t mean to take it. I was, uh… tuning it!”

“Tunin’ it? It don’t need tunin’! It’s magic!”

“Well, it sounded a bit flat,” Jack argues, still edging toward the beanstalk.

By now, I’m seething. “Yer flatter than the harp, ya noodle-armed thief! Get back here!”

But Jack’s already hauling the harp to the beanstalk. I chase after him, my big feet thundering across the castle floor. As he starts climbing down, the harp screams, “HE’S STEALING ME!”

“Yeah, thanks fer the help!” I shout at the harp, scrambling after them.

The Final Showdown

Now, here’s where things get tricky. Jack’s got a head start, and I’m not exactly built for climbing. My hands are too big for the stalk, and my boots keep slipping. But I’m determined to catch him this time.

“Yer not gettin’ away, Jack!” I bellow, my voice shaking the whole stalk.

“You sure about that?” Jack yells back, grinning like the smug little beanpole he is.

Halfway down, I hear this weird chopping noise. At first, I think it’s my knees creaking (happens a lot), but then I realize Jack’s mom is down there with an axe.

“Oi! What’re ya doin’?!” I shout.

“We’re… pruning!” Jack calls up. “Gotta keep the stalk healthy, you know?”

Next thing I know, the beanstalk starts wobbling. I grab on tight, but it’s no use. There’s a loud CRACK, and suddenly, I’m freefalling.

“AAAAAHHHHHHH!”

The Aftermath

I wake up in a crater the size of my dining hall, dazed and covered in dirt. My castle? Gone. My goose? Gone. My harp? Gone. And Jack? Nowhere to be seen.

These days, I’m livin’ in the forest, tryin’ to rebuild. It ain’t easy, but I’m makin’ do. Still, I can’t help thinkin’ about that cheeky little rascal. He’s got guts, I’ll give him that. Dumb as a sack o’ rocks for messin’ with me, but gutsy.

So, if you ever hear the tale of Jack and the Beanstalk, just remember: I wasn’t the villain. I was just a hardworking giant with allergies and a heart of gold (eggs). And Jack? He’s the real troublemaker.