Jack and the BeanStalker.

Written for the L.C. Schafer's (unofficial) "Fucked up Fairytales" challenge. Enjoy the details below.

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“Golden egg crepes my wooden tooth! Relieve me of this horrid dish which rivals the foul vapors coming from my oversized bum and fetch me a hefty portion of Cricket Casserole...Woman!”

Every etched wrinkle on Jack’s face framed a story. Times of when the courageousness of youth placed him on a pedestal, to times when ego laid a calamitous path to vanity. Rude, vile and smelly he had become.

Jack's persona mutated after defeating the giant. His head swelled to massive proportions, acquiring an insatiable appetite for praise; letting no one ever forget.

Matilda Brickenworth, a barkeep with a sharp sense for bull excrement, dealt with him for many years. She fetched him the casserole alright and made sure he devoured every bite while enduring his grim stories for the umpteenth time.

Jack left the tavern belching up a storm. Two pints of red ale surely wouldn't cause such gas upheavals. Nausea crept in, followed by paranoia. He had a strange feeling of being watched as he walked down the dark, cobblestone road to his dwelling.

At his doorstep laid a wicker basket, the perfect size for a newborn. Warily, he took a gander. It held several golden eggs and a note scribed in fresh ink. It read:

𝕱𝖊𝖊-𝖋𝖎-𝖋𝖔-𝖋𝖚𝖒! 𝕱𝖔𝖔𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕸𝖆𝖓, 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝕴 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊!

Jack quickly dropped the parchment and frantically checked his perimeter, not realizing the giant couldn't hide so easily, let alone, write small words with ginormous hands. He scurried inside in search of the prized axe he used to vanquish the angry behemoth but was met with loud, mysterious laughter coming from every direction. Viny beanstalks barged through the windows and down the chimney. They curled around his limbs and dragged him out the house toward the dark sky.

Through fluffy clouds they took him. There, stood the giant, the source of the laughter. Jack wildly scratched and clawed at the vines trying to escape. He began to scream until he realized he was scratching on the wool blanket of his bed. Perplexity led him back to the doorstep. Not a basket in sight. He couldn't explain the uncanny occurrence and went inside.

Matilda could barely wait to hear this story.

(366 words)