Once upon a time, there was a young boy named Jedidiah. He was small, strong, dirty, and his hair quite looked like some sort of strange animal which happened to be holding on to his head. This lad’s hair is indeed an interesting subject, and one of great dispute, as many have given account of seeing him, but none have agreed upon the colour of his hair.
“A brunnette.” One says.
“He’s a blondie!” Another remarks.
“Black as raven.” Some stolid man returns.
“Fool! He’s a ginger!” Shouts another.
On any account, Jedidiah was just as popular as his hair. A merciful and honest person, he grew in favor with men just as the good book says. And he wasn’t too bad with the ladies, either! However popular he is now, Jedidiah was once completely looked-over. In playing games, he was more or less excluded, in social gatherings, he was hardly tolerated, and in daily life, he was effectively shunned as a leper. His parents, of course, comforted him and told him that all would be well when he was older, and that he would grow up to be a great man. This inevitably seemed to be simple fluff to Jedidiah; the whimsical exhortation of a loving guardian offered in hopes of strengthening the heart of the young against the hard and cruel world.
“Just look for your day, laddie.” His father would say. “Jehovah is sure to present the chance, regardless of if you know how to see it or not.” So Jedidiah looked for his day, but all he ever observed were opportunities to be nice to crabby old ladies who smelt of lavender and spoiled prune juice, who ridiculed his generation’s lack of work ethic, and who constantly spoke lovingly of the hard work they suffered in their mother country, a sentiment which young Jedidiah strongly questioned. Nonetheless, Jedidiah continued in his way of assisting haggard women and oppressed men in their trials and troubles, receiving with compassion their complaints and their sorrows. So it was that the beginnings of a great man took root.
Jedidiah stood unmoving, staring at the jowls of a large middle-aged woman as she jabbered to a complete stranger about her physical disabilities. The way her skin bounced and jiggled as she spoke was transfixing. It was like she was trying to shake it off, but it would not let go, weary as it was. Greasy dirt graced the crevices and folds of her skin, and her chin jutted out like it was silently accusing the man who she was conversing with. Jedidiah blinked twice, and came out of his stupor, realizing that the line had moved. He stepped forward one pace and then stopped. He was at the market, fetching food items for his mother, as was his custom. He gripped a papaya in his left hand, and in his right he held a mesh bag containing three coconuts. He dug his shoeless toes into the well-trodden earth and licked his lips, surveying his surroundings. He had counted sixteen squabbles, twelve crying children, four baying mules, innumerable squawking chickens, when suddenly all of the movement and noise ceased. Jedidiah’s brow furrowed, and his ears perked up. He studied the faces of the herd of people around him, trying to discern the reason for their abrupt silence. The reason was discerned rather quickly. The earth rumbled beneath Jedidiah’s feet, and the dust sprung up into the air as though it had always been there; a nearby stall of peaches collapsed immediately, and one of the braying mules began to buck away, dragging its unfortunate owner, cart and all, behind it. Jedidiah turned around, almost tripping due to another earth-tremor, and saw why everyone was silent. Staring down at the village was a huge, ravenous Giant. This was not one of the noble Nephilim, nor even the not-so-honorable Anakim; no, this was an Oggin. They were giants which were so bloodthirsty, so vile, and so all around ugly that not even the one eyed Cyclops would let them stay anywhere near them. The Oggin weren’t smart enough to fashion clothes out of vines or animal skin, so they simply caked mud on themselves to stay warm. Their hair was dirty, and was so sticky that it never blew in the wind or left their backs, not even if they hung upside down from their toes, of which there were three on each foot. The Oggin were very clumsy and fell over quite a bit, but as such their bodies were calloused and their bones were strong, including their massive teeth. The stench of an Oggin is so awful that it has been said that it is what inspired the smell of a cow farm, but this report does not come from completely reliable sources. Oggins did not travel in groups because if two Oggins walked together, only one would come out of the ordeal alive, due either to the stench of another (the Oggin’s musk glands work extra hard in the presence of another Oggin), or due to the fact that one Oggin would trip over the other and effectively turn his companion into a pancake, as it were. It is most difficult to describe an Oggin in full, and were I to do this, you would be so absolutely disgusted that you would think that a greasy fat man with an over-production of hair clad only in a speedo three sizes too small would be rather charming. Anyhow, there was the Oggin, swaying stupidly in the wind like some sort of obese old windmill, and there was the town holding its breath (in anticipation or in an attempt to block out the smell, I do not know). The Oggin looked around hurriedly, as if to see if anyone was looking, but as the behemoth was looking only for persons of its size, it did not notice the town. It’s surveillance complete, the Oggin stuffed a giant finger up its right nostril and dug around for a bit. All of the townspeople grimaced. The Oggin’s face at first seemed rather pleased, but then it screwed its face up in such a ridiculous fashion (both eyes crossed toward its nose and mouth wide open in confusion) that Jedidiah would have laughed, had he not been so disgusted. The expression of the Oggin finalized in a satisfied smirk as it pulled an entire cow out of its nostril and promptly popped it in its mouth.
“Bessie?” A man whimpered pitifully from behind Jedidiah, as he realized that the bovine was his; or at least, had been his. The giant, after finding another beast in its belly button, scratched behind its gnarled ear...and looked directly toward the town. Each and every villager gasped simultaneously, sure that the giant would single them out, and then each and every villager screamed at the top of their lungs and began running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Jedidiah was, of course, excepted from both of these descriptions, as he was a wise and stout-hearted lad who never lost his head, no matter the actions of the chickens around him. Deducting that the giant would soon realize that the little screaming people could be eaten, Jedidiah ran to the base of the tallest tower of the town, papaya and coconuts included, and began climbing the building. When finally he reached the top, he was about eye-level with the giant, who had finally begun to walk hungrily toward the settlement. Jedidiah swiftly pulled out a coconut, threw it, and hit the giant square between his eyes.
“Hello!” Jedidiah cried out to the giant.
“Buh?” The Oggin responded.
“My name is Jedidiah!” Jedidiah shouted.
“Fluhghmbyrt?” The giant explained.
“It’s nice to meet you, Fluhghmbyrt!” Jedidiah remarked politely. “I say, are you hungry?”
“DAH!” The giant cheered, apparently reverting to German in his excitement.
“Excelent!” Jedidiah responded. “Would you like to eat me then?”
“Meeeedahn?” The giant questioned. “Aboogie-bim-glall?”
“Me?” Jedidiah asked with astonishment. “Oh no! I’m not small in the least! If you think so, then come over here and put me close to your face. I’m actually quite big for my age.”
“Wuggubunk!” The giant frowned, surveying the boy. “Wugga dink, ‘ah doonk, amn freinkidink schlabdoonk-”
“Excuse me!” Jedidiah exclaimed in righteous anger. “Mind your tongue, sir!” The giant covered his mouth in uncontrollable embarrassment. “Now you march over here, and see how I get bigger.” Jedidiah said, as a mother telling her child to go to their room. During this entire exchange the town had grown quiet and had watched in utter astonishment at Jedidiah’s bravery, but as the Oggin began to stalk sulkily toward the young boy, all ran in fear. The giant moodily kicked a cabbage stand as a small boy kicks a stone. The stand went flying into the west, and a cry of “My cabbages!” was heard from the unfortunate owner below.
“Put out your hand now,” Jedidiah said as the giant arrived at the tower. The Oggin obeyed, and Jedidiah stepped lightly into the dirty palm, which was stained with dirt and...other brown stuff.
“Bring me near your eye.”
“Pumpkin?” The giant asked, wishing for clarification.
“Yes, your eye.” The giant obeyed, closing his fist and pressing Jedidiah against his eyeball. Jedidiah grimaced as the Oggin eye-juice slimed him, but the giant felt no pain. “Now see how much I’ve grown?” Jedidiah choked out, the breath squeezed out of him by the hand of the giant.
“Oooooh! Gablaudroouk!” The giant exclaimed, extremely pleased and not understanding that Jedidiah was simply closer, not bigger. “Toughpoko.” He consented, and lowered his hand toward his mouth to devour Jedidiah, hungry for a meal that the Oggin thought might well be bigger that it was.
“You’re eating me already?” Jedidiah asked in a refined aghast tone of voice. “Distasteful.”
“Bugga?”
“Well, of course it is! I’m not ripe! I’m not even my full size yet, much less my full weight!”
“Gaboung?”
“That’s right. Almost twice as big.”
“Huh huh, huh huh...bum.” The giant chuckled with glee, sliding Jedidiah behind his ear, a location which Jedidiah was most thankful for in light of the placement of Bessie.
“Well, God,” Jedidiah said optimistically. “I didn’t view this as what my ‘day’ would look like, but I suppose its as good a chance as any.”
And with that the Giant stalked off over the hills, whistling Ticket to Ride off-key.
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