Mrs. Beanstalk washed the dishes and listened to her slow-witted husband come thumping down the stairs.
“Fee, Fi, Fo Fum, I smell the ……….”
“For goodness sake!” shrieked Mrs. Beanstalk, as she hurried from the kitchen, “How many more times have I got to tell you to stop singing that bloody song. Every day you go blundering around this castle singing that same old song. What is the matter with you?”
“But it’s my song,” replied her giant of a husband, “It’s what us giants have to sing.”
“Says who!” shouted his wife, ”Go on, show me where it says you have to wander aimlessly around the house, singing the same boring song, to the same boring tune, every bloody day!”
The giant looked down at his wife and decided it was probably best not to answer. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to change. Only yesterday he’d been wandering round the garden trying to think of some different words or maybe keeping the same words but trying a different tune. But his poor brain couldn’t cope with it all and after ten minutes of trying he’d given up and taken a nap under a tree.
“Don’t just stand there gawping.” Shouted Mrs. Beanstalk and waking the giant from his thoughts, “Make yourself useful, go and make sure the fence around that beanstalk is still secure. And if you see that horrible child from down below climbing up it, come and get me straight away. Do you hear me? Whatever you do, don’t speak to him and for goodness sake don’t sing that silly song. We have enough trouble with the neighbours as it is, without you scaring their kids.”
The giant lumbered slowly off down the garden path, humming his song to himself and wondering if crushed bones really did make a good loaf.