Bathroom Monologue: Of Turnips, Giants and Men

The giant raised his tree, preparing to club the most recent knight-errant, when a voice caught his attention.

“Pick on someone your own size!”

The giant turned. The knight wasn’t going anywhere with his horse on top of him, and he was kind of curious to see someone his own size for once. He was so big that he couldn’t even wear tarps as loincloths anymore, leaving him eager for competition.

Unfortunately this challenger was human-sized. He was an old man in a cloak with more stains than clean spots, his body supported on a staff.

The giant grumbled, which shook the ground for a good quarter-mile. He liked doing that. It made him feel important.

"I'm bigger than a house. There isn't anyone my size."

The old man spat tobacco at the giant’s feet. "Well maybe that should teach you something.”

"It has." The giant rested on his tree, like a leaning post. "It's taught me I can pick fights with anyone and win. It’s great."

"That's not even a challenge! Of course you can kill some five-foot foot soldier."

"Damn straight I can. But that guy came with a horse."

The giant looked back. The knight-errant was still under his trusty stead, wiggling with admirable vigor.

"You shouldn't be proud of that. There's no effort. You want to be proud, hoe my field."

The giant turned back to him and scrutinized the old man.

"Hoe your field?"

"I've got twenty miles of turnips in frozen soil. You want to be impressive? Save my crops."

“I can kill anyone in the world. I also go around naked. No armor. You’re not impressed?”

The giant spread his legs a little further apart. The old man didn’t bother to look up.

“It’s enormous, but my wife says proportionately it’s unimpressive.”

“It’s cold outside,” said the giant, moving so that his gianthood was now hidden behind the tree. “It’s winter.”

“Then put some pants on and pick my crops!”

"I really like picking on people."

"And everyone thinks you're an ass for it."

The giant stiffened.

"They think I'm terrifying!"

"To your face. The second you leave it's, 'What an ass.'"

"Who calls me an ass?"

"Pick my crops and I’ll tell you!"

"You really think this is going to work on me? Just because I'm gigantic doesn't mean I'm pea-brained. You’re stereotyping."

"You can eat me if you want. Still going to be an ass who wasted his gifts essentially picking fights with the handicapped."

The giant scratched his chin. It was more scar tissue than beard these days. He kind of missed the beard.

"Pulling vegetables from frozen soil sounds hard."

"It is,” said the old man. “That's why it'll be satisfying. It's an actual challenge for your pantsless grandeur."

"But it also seems boring. Not like a battle to the death."

“You mean if you can’t do it you’ll say it’s boring as a ruse to quit?”

“Hey. I can do it.”

“I dare you to prove it.”

They stared each other down. By that I mean the giant actually got on all fours to stare into the old man’s face. The old man didn’t flinch. Three feet away, the giant realized his challenger was blind.

The giant snorted out a cloud of winter mist. It engulfed the old man, then drifted into the sky to join the normal clouds.

“Fine. But if it’s boring, I’ll eat you.”

The old man tapped his staff around on the hard ground, getting his bearings to head home.

“Just give me a moment to tell my daughter what your ‘boring’ really means, sissy.”

The giant grimaced, then gave up the grimace since his challenger couldn’t see it. A rejoinder didn’t come to mind, so he hustled to the field, the frozen soil breaking up even as he ran towards it.