Never Time Tales Presents: Them-There Giants
Never Time Tales written by on September 21, 2005
{Or, Buford Comes To The Rescue}
[Editor's Note: The author submitted this story because, in his words, "You all have been way too serious lately."]
Once upon a Never Time there were Them-There giants. I'm not talking about the kind of giants you see in other folks' fairy tales. Them-There giants were a breed of their own. Mainly, because I'm the only one who has ever told you about them.
I want to tell you of a particular Them-There giant. His name was Blalycvzykork. Since I can't pronounce it and you probably can't either, we'll just call him Buford. Buford lived by the Crystal River under the Blue Mountain. I think that was somewhere in Flying Crawdad Shire, but I'm not sure. You know how them places change names over time.
On one particular summer day during one of them olde dayes we hear tell about, we find ole Buford taking one of his average two-week naps. He suddenly stirred as if jolted out of a dream. His big ole brown eyes popped open and he looked around. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary, he raised up and in the process knocked a half acre of trees over. Buford was a big ole boy. He still didn't see what was making him so uncomfortable. He scratched his head, destroying several eagles' nests rooted among his big ole hairs. He couldn't figure out what was wrong. Then he heard a loud rumbling coming from inside him.
"I'm hongry!" he said in amazement suddenly realizing the cause of his discomfort. I forgot to tell you that Buford wasn't packing a full load. Some have ascertained that Buford didn't have enough gray matter between his ears to fertilize your average potted plant.
"I wonder what there is to eat around here?" Buford asked himself. Not hearing an answer, which seemed to sorely disappoint him, he got up and shook off the dust that had collected on his body for two weeks. The resulting roil made the Oklahoma Dust Bowl seem like a mild Saturday night at the races around a small dirt track. He stretched out the kinks and smacked his lips to further indicate that he was hungry. Buford looked all around him and didn't see a thing in sight large enough to fill his cavernous stomach.
Just in case Buford ever comes stumbling your way I guess I need to describe him so that you'll know wha?who it is. Buford was, as most Them-There giants were, about 70 feet tall. His head came to a point that from a distance folks mistook for a mountain top until it moved or shook from side to side. As I mentioned before, his eyes were brown. When he grinned, he showed teeth that were as yellow as gold. They didn't make toothbrushes for giants of any kind in them olde dayes, much less giants the size of Buford. We're talking a lot of scum buildup here.
When Buford could collect enough material to cover his body parts he wore what could pass for clothing. Sometimes he didn't get everything covered and you saw so much coarse black hair sticking out in places; enough to make Bigfoot proud. On this particular day, he was wearing something that looked like a scaly leather jerkin; probably made from a combination of whale skin and dragon scales. His pants were constructed of some of the same materials plus sheets of bark skinned from cottonwood trees. Most likely the bark protected Buford from low flying wood peckers. Further down on our journey were the coverings Buford wore for shoes. He had taken a couple of Redwoods and strapped them to his feet to protect his soles and covered them all with whale skin. I reckon if ole Noah had had Buford's shoes, he'd of been ready for that flood in no time with plenty of room to spare for some of the critters what got left behind.
So if you're ever out in the area of the Crystal River and see a small mountain moving around that looks similar to the description you just read, you'll know it's Buford. If it looks a whole lot different, then I don't know what to tell you, except, RUN!!!
Now Buford wasn't ordinarily a hateful Them-There giant, but when he was hungry he could be a little contrary. He might even say things that he didn't mean. On this particular day we're talking about here, Buford was famished.
"Fee, fi, fo, fail! I'm gonna get me a whale!"
That's what Buford hollered each time he had a taste for whale. Now you and I might try to think of something different to say each time, but we're talking about a critter what ain't packing a complete set of encyclopedias here. So off he trundled toward the big lake called The Big Lake to see if any whales had beached themselves. Buford didn't like to wade out into the water to get his meals. To Buford, water was only for drinking and holding whales. He couldn't discern any other reason for the existence of the substance. You might wonder what he thought of rain, but he had never experienced that event. In them olde dayes, rain only fell in the spring and then only around castles what housed princesses so that they could compare themselves to flowers what got drenched by spring rains.
As Buford was trundling (I know I just used that word, but I like it and don't get to use it very often) he noticed in a wooded area a commotion going on. It seemed that one of them Sirs what go off on all them quests was charging a dragon. Buford's mouth started to water. He was drooling vats, because he loved dragon better than any other food. There was something about the bouquet of roasted dragon that stirred a feeling in him that he couldn't describe if you'd asked him. Chances are he didn't know enough vocabulary to describe it.
Buford hoped that the Sir cleaned that dragon's clock. A road killed dragon is easier to chase down than one what sprouts wings and flies off. Once Buford chased a healthy dragon for four days before the oversized lizard ran out of steam and had to make a landing. All Buford had to do then was walk up to it and whack it a couple of times and presto! A tasty meal. As Buford looked on he saw one of the strangest things.
About the time the dragon got a full breath to send out a string of hot flame toward the charging Sir, the mottled gray steed he was riding suddenly turned pure white and immediately executed a one-hoof right pivot and shot off in a different direction. Unfortunately, the Sir wasn't anchored in the saddle as well as he should have been and kept traveling toward the dragon, under the stream of dragon fire, bumping and clanging along until the lance he was holding shot out of his grip and pierced the dragon right in the heart. Then the Sir had to scramble to get out of the way of the tumbling critter. The Sir picked himself up and started off in the direction his steed had taken. Buford could tell that the Sir was not in a good mood.
After the Sir was out of sight Buford crept up to the dragon. He nudged the body with his right foot to make sure it was dead. About that time Buford noticed a slick spot in road.
"Hot doggies!" he said. "Priest-pouncing dragon. They tastes the best. Ummmmh!"
Buford grabbed the dragon's tail and pulled the critter behind him. He wanted to take it to where he could build a big fire to roast it. Buford wasn't all there, but he was conscientious enough not to start a forest fire. Trees offered him too much in the way of clothing and other purposes to chance losing them. He arrived at a big open meadow, which was deserted, because all the critters what normally inhabited it scattered when they saw Buford coming draggin' a dragon behind him.
Buford placed the dragon in the middle of the meadow and then sought out some small trees to use as a spit. Next he gathered a couple of tons of dried wood for fuel and used two logs that were the driest to scrape together until they burst into flames. Once the fire was up and going, Buford spitted the dragon and placed it in the two Y-shaped logs on both end of the fire. He sat down and stared at his meal and tried to keep his drool from splashing on the fire and extinguishing it. Every half hour or so, he rotated the dragon so that it would cook evenly.
About the time the dragon was nearing medium rare, Buford felt a sharp sting on his right ankle. He swatted the ankle thinking it was a pesky insect or overly brave badger.
"Hey, you!" a tiny voice yelled.
"Who's there?" Buford asked looking around.
"Crank your head down this way, big boy."
Buford looked down to his left.
"Don't you have ears?" the tiny whiny voice complained. "Look to your other side."
Buford looked down to his right and saw a human. It was one of them princesses what lived in castles and sighed all day, because they didn't have anything better to do. Buford knew she was a princess, because she was wearing one of the long solid colored gowns and one of them pointed hats with a hanky tied to the tip.
"Who're you? Did you just bite my ankle?" Buford asked her.
"Bite? Sonny, I don't have teeth long enough to bite you," the princess replied. "I jabbed you with my hat pin."
"Well, what did you go and do that for?"
"To get your attention, what else. Now that I've got it I want your help."
"Help for what?" asked Buford.
The princess sighed in exacerbation and huffed, "If you'll stop asking me questions every time I say a couple of words I'll tell you."
"OK, shoot."
"I want you to drive off a giant that has my castle under siege," the princess continued. "He's driven off all my sheep and scattered my cattle to kingdom come. All of my servants got scared and deserted me. I knew they'd be trouble as soon as they got unionized. Couldn't count on getting anything out of them after that. The gall of them telling me that they were only going to work 40 hours a week. What am I supposed to do for help during the other 128 hours? You just can't get good castle employees anymore. And now they've done run off."
"Hire some more," Buford offered.
"Oh yeah? And what makes you think anyone is gonna come near my castle with that giant laying siege to it? What 'dya have between your ears besides wax? Listen to me! As long as that giant's hanging around I'm on my own."
"Well you can stay on your own, pipsqueak," Buford rumbled. "I've got a dragon roasting and don't have time to go bothering other giants. Besides, you didn't tell me what kind of giant it is."
"It's tall, ugly, stupid, and smells," the princess said. "That's all the information you need to know it's a giant. What difference does it make what kind of a giant it is? And don't call me pipsqueak, freak!"
"Twirp!"
"Toad droppings!"
"Crosseyed!"
"Whoa, that's hitting below the belt," the princess said.
"You don't have a belt. Ha, ha, ha, ha!"
This really frosted the princess's strawberries. The more Buford laughed and repeated the word belt the angrier she got. How dare a dumb creature such as a giant laugh at her! Didn't he have any manners?
"Alright, alright! Har-de-har-har," quipped the princess. "Finish getting your jollies and let's get back to the business at hand."
"The business at hand is my?uh oh." Buford sniffed the air and completely sucked in a murder of crows flying by. He looked down at the meal he was preparing and his eyes got big and then started to tear over. "Now you see what you gone and made me do?"
"What did I do?" the princess asked.
"You took away my attention and now my dragon is potash."
"Who ever accused you of having anything as thoughtful as an attention," the princess replied. "I just want to know what you are planning to do about?" The princess's thoughts trailed off when she noticed that Buford was apparently very sad. As feisty as the princess was, she didn't like to see anyone sad. "You OK up there?" she meekly asked.
"I'm hongry and now I've lost my meal," Buford wailed.
"Do you like cattle?" the princess asked him.
"They're tiny and don't make a meal big enough to fill me up."
"Just how many do you think it would take to fill you up?" she asked.
"I don't know," Buford replied scratching his left ear. "I've never been full before. I supposed about a dozen would come close."
"Well I'll tell you what. You chase away that giant that's laying siege to my castle and you can have enough of my cattle to fill you up. When they're all rounded back up again I should have about four or five thousand head."
Buford scratched his head, perplexed, because he couldn't comprehend a number as large as four or five thousand. He looked down at his fingers and then further down to his toes and then shrugged.
"How many is four or five thousand?" Buford asked.
"You've got to be kidding!" the princess replied. "Four or five thousand is four or five thousand. You know, one-two-three-four-etc., etc., etc."
"Now you've confused me again. What's a etc.?"
"Never mind," the princess huffed. "Just consider it a lot of cows. More than enough to satisfy even your hunger. Do we have a deal?"
"Yeah," Buford drooled. "Lead the way."
"I think we can get there faster if you carried me."
Buford picked up the princess and headed off in the direction she pointed. Within a half hour they approached her castle. Just as the princess had said, a giant was lolling around the area trying its best to look menacing. Since the creature was only a Sometime Giant, it was only half the height of Buford. Buford set the princess down on a large boulder and proceeded on toward the sieging Sometime Giant.
"Hey! Whoa there, big fella," the Sometime Giant hollered. "What are you doing in my territory?"
Buford didn't bother to speak. He walked up to the Sometime Giant, grabbed it by the neck and started swinging it around his head. When the whizzing Sometime Giant got up to an appreciable speed Buford let go and the critter sailed up and over the surrounding mountains. Buford dusted his hands as if signaling a job well done and finished.
"Where's them cows?" he asked.
The princess was too stunned to speak right away. She still heard the sound of the Sometime Giant's scream when Buford flung it into the sky. For all anyone knew it might be in orbit. Straightening her long dress, she replied, "Some of them should be over to the north in the next valley."
When the princess saw how perplexed Buford was she pointed north and said, "That away."
Just as Buford turned to start looking for the cows, the princess asked, "What's your name?"
"Blalycuzykork."
"Gusenheit."
"What?"
"You just sneezed and I said gusenheit."
"Blalycuzykork is my name, not a sneeze."
"If you say so. I'll just call you Buford if that's all right," the princess said.
{See what I told you in the beginning?}
"What's your name?" Buford asked.
"Lady Pricilla Mae Shadowlight. I have a sister you might have heard of over across the shire line. Her name is Beatrice Sue. She's looking for a husband right now and hasn't had time to visit or I'd introduce you to her. Since my name's a mouth full you can just call me Lady P.M?."
"I get the picture," Buford said rolling his big ole eyes up to the sky. "I'm gonna go get me some of those beefsteaks before they scatter further away."
"Well, when you get through with that you have a place here to hang out. If for nothing else, it would be worth it to me to feed you as long as you keep intruders like that other giant away and sometimes keep me company. It gets lonely being a Lady princess around these parts."
"I'll think about that and let you know. But for now I'm hungry and I have a taste for some of your cows."
With that Buford took off north and Lady Pricilla, still standing on the boulder, smiled, forgetting that she was still standing on the boulder with no way to get down until Buford returned. We'll leave her there for a while. As long as she doesn't get anxious and impatient and topple off she'll be OK.
The End
