Weekly Photo Challenge: Big
The WordPress Photo Challenge as taken on by a man whose camera is broken…
The sea was a constant source of fear in Lillput.
Its giant waves, taller than any Lilliputian, crashed all day every day onto the shore. While this did mean that the surfing was terrific, it brought in stones the size of labradors, seaweed the length of bunting and dog-turds the size of skyscrapers.
It had even once brought in a spaceship, a giant red cylinder with the words “Coca-Cola” printed on its side, presumably the name of the planet it had come from. This had been hushed up by the Emperor and his Government, along with the worrying fact that a door in the front had been open.
There could be no cover up this time, though. It’s hard to deny the existence of aliens when a man the size of the Gillaspian mountain range is lying flat-out upon the beach.
“What will we do?” asked the Emperor.
“Run like hell,” said Falal, who was ironically his Defence Minister. “We can’t fight something like that.”
“We could tie him up,” said Larken, the Justice Minister, who had two basic plans for administering justice – tying people up or putting them to death. “Then we could put him to death.”
“On what charge?” asked the Emperor. “Being big?”
“The more important question,” said Sensible Minister Jonassus (a post which has regrettably become unfashionable in modern democracy) “is where he came from, and are there more like him.”
“Perhaps he climbed down a beanstalk from the clouds,” said Falal, who used to have bedtime stories read to him by his mother. “Maybe he’s a one-off.”
“Unlikely,” said Jonassus, “since there is no beanstalk reaching the sky anywhere in Lilliput. We’d probably have noticed by now.”
“How do we even know it’s a he?” asked Larken.
“We could open his trousers,” suggested the Empress, voicing a wish that she’d had ever since she’d first set eyes upon him.
“Not going to happen,” said the Emperor firmly. The Empress, a former lap-dancer who was much younger than the Emperor and had married him purely for the title, lapsed into sullen silence.
“Well, we can’t just wait for him to wake up and trample all over us,” said Larken. “I still say tie him up.”
“Dear lord no,” said Jonassus, “that’s a really bad idea. Have none of you heard the tale of King Kong?”
“Er, no,” said the others. “What is it?”
“It’s the story of a giant monkey who gets tied up by little humans like us and is really pissed off when he wakes up.”
“What does he do?” asked Falal.
“Well,” said Jonassus, suddenly wishing he hadn’t started this example, “he climbs a tall building and gets shot at by the humans till he falls off and dies.”
“Ok,” said the Emperor, “tying him up it is then.”
The next six hours were spent tying the giant down. They used ropes, they used fishing-nets, they used a pair of hand-cuffs that the Empress produced from the royal bedroom, to the mortification of the Emperor. They connected all of these things to tent-pegs and hammered those into the beach he was washed up on.
In other words, they tried tying him to sand.
Jonassus took one look, got on his horse, and rode off towards to the next kingdom.
So he was five miles away when he heard the yells of fear, the twang of ropes and the roaring yawn. He looked back over a hill and saw the giant sit up, stretch, and, because he was a man, greet the dawn chorus with a trumpeting of his own.
Jonassus, as I’ve said, was five miles away, yet was still knocked off his horse by the force of Gulliver’s fart.