"It's the bloody beanstalk," said the old crone that was madam McJock. "What do you think it is, a carrot? My son won some so-called magic beans at a fair. We planted them out here and hey presto, there's this."
"Wow," muttered Kerry, Snow's junior partner.
"It's a pain really," the old woman went on. "The bastard who nicked my Colin came down it. We tried to chop it down but the council say it's a tree, and trees are a protected species, so it stays."
Snow stared up at the beanstalk and cast his mind back, how they had managed to be convinced to climb it for a bloody chicken. It had begun when...
The doors of Snow Spackman's detective agency burst open in a spectacular array of noise, light and smoke. One of the doors snapped from it's hinges and flew across the office, where it hit the far wall and then slumped to the floor.
Not really but it grabbed your attention didn't it?
In reality there was a short, sharp rap at the door. Snow looked from his book and said. "Enter."
A woman entered, an old, miserable looking woman who could really only be described as a crone. "Mr Spackman?" she asked. "I believe that you are a detective."
"You believe right," Snow said, with the friendly, sincere smile that he saved for his clients. "How may I help, Mrs?"
"Madame McJock," the crone said.
"Madame Mcjock," Snow began.
"Mcjock, McJock," corrected McJock. "Capital M, small c, capital J."
Snow waved a dismissive hand. "Whatever, how may I be of assistance?"
McJock nodded and sat down. "I understand that you are one of the best detectives in the city."
Snow pulled a so-so face, he did not like to brag. "I have had a few successful cases in my time."
McJock pulled what she called a smile, Snow would have called in something else entirely but this is a family tale. "Good, I need you to find someone."
"Ah, a missing person, they are easy. Who is it?"
"He's not missing," said the crone. "He's been stolen."
Snow raised a quizzical eyebrow, in his years of being a private investigator he had heard a lot of weird stuff, it took a lot to shake him.
"Stolen?"
Mcjock nodded. "Yes, they came down the bloody beanstalk and stole my Colin."
"Ah, so would I be right in saying that Colin is a pet of some sort?"
"Yes, he is a chicken."
"A chicken?"
"Yes. Mister Spackman, are you perhaps hard of hearing? A big, dumb arsed giant came down the beanstalk and stole my Colin. I want you to climb up the beanstalk and get him back."
"I think you have the wrong person," said Snow. "You need Jack, he would be your man for this type of work, good day."
"I can pay you well," said the woman, rummaging in her bag.
"It is not the money," said Snow. "I just considered you be a stone bonker, no disrespect but you seem to be...bloody hell, is that real gold?"
"Yes," said McJock, placing a gold coloured egg on the desk before Snow. "My Colin is no ordinary chicken, he lays golden eggs."
And that was that...
"Mister Spackman, instead of daydreaming, perhaps you had better get back to the business of getting my poor Colin back," said McJock icily, dragging Snow back from his reverie.
Snow shook himself back to reality. "I wasn't daydreaming, I was trying to what out the best plan for retrieving your chicken."
"You don't need a plan," said McJock. "All you have to do is climb up there, find him and bring him back. It's quite simple really."
"I am not sure that it will as easy as that," said Snow.
"I am paying you well, am I not?"
"I am sure we will manage," said Kerry diplomatically.
"How will we recognise Colin, does he have any distinguishing marks?" asked Snow.
"He's a chicken," said the old crone.
"Yes but-" said Snow.
"Just get up there and get my Colin back!"
"Yes but-" began Snow again, but he was talking to the woman's back.
Kerry watched the crone disappear into her cottage. She turned to Snow a mocking smile on her features. "Does he have any distinguishing features...ha haa."
"I think that McJock is stone bonkers."
"So do you think you will be able to recognise Colin when you see him?" asked Kerry, barely suppressing a smirk.
Snow took firm hold on the beanstalk and began to climb. "I pride myself on being able to know a chicken when I see one."
"Ah yes, but what happens if he has lots of chickens?"
"I don't believe that will be the case, I haven't heard of thieves keeping chickens."
"I think we might find that he's actually a giant," said Kerry.
"You're be surprised," smiled Snow. "He's probably just a big
geezer, you know what these dumb country folk are like."
"Yeah, but we're the ones climbing the stalk," said Kerry.
"Shut up and climb," said Snow.
It was a long climb but not a particularly difficult one. The stalk had evenly spaced branches and seemed to be designed for climbing up, and hopefully down.
"Hey look," cried Kerry. "I can't see the cottage any more."
Snow looked down for the first time and instantly regretted it. "Jesus, is this stalk swaying?"
Kerry laughed. "Don't be stupid it's as steady as a rock."
"Hmm," sighed a doubtful Snow, wiping his sweaty forehead. Twenty metres above them the beanstalk disappeared into a huge bank of cloud. "Thank god we appear to be nearly there."
"I wonder what we will find up there," said Kerry.
"A chicken and a stupid looking geezer hopefully," said Snow, trying to remember back in the story to see if he had a gun. He thought he did but wasn't too sure, I'll wait until I really need it, he decided, just in case.
"This isn't much like the real story of the boy and the beanstalk," said Kerry.
Snow went to shrug, thought better of it and carried on climbing. "Doesn't it? I really don't recall, I can't really remember much of it."
"I remember bits of it," said Kerry.
"Did it have a happy ending?" asked Snow.
"I think so."
"Good," said Snow. He was almost at the top now, seconds later he entered the white, puffy cloud and left Kerry's sight. "Aha!" he exclaimed as his head cleared the cloud. It was the top.
"So what's up there?" asked the eager Kerry.
"You won't believe this," said Snow. "There's a bloody castle up here." He couldn't quite believe it himself, here he was at the top of a massive beanstalk, gawking at a castle in the clouds, complete with a moat, tall turrets and a portcullis. It had a fairly rundown appearance, a few walls missing here, a couple of doors missing there but it was a castle all the same.
Snow hesitantly stepped from the stalk onto the cloud and found that he could stand.
"Ugh! all my clothes are wet," complained Kerry, her head appearing from the cloud. "Bloody hell, it is a castle, this is impossible ain't it?"
Snow shrugged, uncomfortable in his wet clothes. "Obviously not."
"Wow," said Kerry, climbing from the stalk. "Who would have thought to put a castle in the clouds?"
"Hmmm," mumbled Snow, he was curious, there was nothing else on the cloud, why build a castle. It didn't make sense. "Ha! who am I kidding?" he continued. "it makes as much sense as magic beans and beanstalks."
"Or indeed anything in this dumb story," muttered Kerry.
"What was that?" asked Snow.
"I was wondered why someone hadn't noticed this castle up here before," said Kerry.
"Why should they?" said Snow. "Who would be stupid enough to climb up a bloody beanstalk for a goddamn chicken."
"He does lay golden eggs," Kerry reminded him.
"He'd better."
"This is the plan," announced Snow, once they had rested for five minutes. "It's simple but effective. I steam into the castle, grab Colin and get the frig out of there. You wait here and keep out of trouble."
"But I want to go with you," said Kerry. "I'm not going to stand around here like a lemon."
"No chance, it may get brutal in there and I don't want you getting in the way," said Snow.
"But how am I ever going to learn the ropes, if you don't let me do anything," moaned Kerry.
"There are things you can do and things you can't," said Snow. "You have going been with the firm for a few months, Kerry, give it a bit of time."
"But I can help you."
"Just wait here," said Snow sternly.
Kerry pouted, tossed her hair over a shoulder and turned away with a snort. "I just hope you can get by on your own, I won't be there to help you this time."
"I'll take that chance," said Snow.
It took the speedy Snow a matter of minutes to reach the main gates of the dilapidated castle. "So far so good," he muttered, leaning on the woodworm infested doors. The castle looked even worse close up. There was grass and moss growing all over the walls, and that was just the walls that were standing upright still, most of them were just piles of rumble.
"Aha the tradesman's entrance," smiled Snow, slipping into the castle via a small wooden door in the main gate house. The interior was much the same as the exterior, except for the overpowering smell of rotting wood, tapestries etc.
Snow found himself in a long passage way, lit by torches, so at least someone (or something) was in. He stopped and listened. It was silent. "What did you expect?" he asked himself. "To hear Colin clucking for help?"
Ignoring his own sarcasm he carried on down the corridor, until he reached another small wooden door. "These people were sure tiny, I knew they wouldn't be giants," he observed, opening the door unto a huge marbled hall. An empty marbled hall, except for a massive wooden table and a gigantic chair.
He ducked into the hall.
"Jeez it's bloody freezing," he cursed as the cold air hit him like a hammer. "If Colin's in here he'll be deep frozen by no-." He stopped in his verbal tracks as he saw it, on the table was a golden cage containing one small, reddy brown chicken. "Bingo Colin!"
Snow considered his approaching problem. What did he do? Did he charge out there, grab the chicken and leg it, or did he check carefully around and try to sneak round and get it, running the risk of the thieves turning up. Despite the fact that he was in no rush to face an angry lunatic thief, the cage looked so much like a trap it was unbelievable, unless of course the thief wasn't expecting anyone to follow them.
"Damn," cursed Snow, he pulled out the 44'. Aha I do use a gun, he thought triumphantly. "It's all too easy," he mused out loud though. "A mite too convenient. What sort of idiot would leave a priceless bird out on a table in broad daylight?"
Snow didn't know the answer to that, so he decided to act. He took a quick look around the hall, raced across the twenty metres or so between him and the chicken, dived across the table, caught the cage mid-flight, landed, rolled, then came up poised, gun in hand ready for action.
It was all very heroic.
Nothing moved, except for poor Colin who was having a minor cardiac arrest in his cage. Snow let out a sigh of relief and made for the door. "Oh dear," he said, as a huge shape loomed up before him. A very tall, very wide shape. It was at least four metres high and half as wide. A frigging giant! I've been snitched up, damn that McJock! Cursed Snow, ignoring the fact that McJock had actually told him it was a giant.
"Who the hell are you?" bellowed the newcomer, with not a sign of the traditional fee-fi-foe-thumb or what ever it was.
"I'm from the RSPCA," lied Snow. "I've come about Colin, I think he might have chicken pox."
"I think not," said the giant (yes he really was one). "I think you have come to steal by precious chicken. Thief."
Snow thought hard, trying to ignore the beads of sweat that were running down his neck. One false move here and he would be pate. "Okay mister don't come another step," he warned, holding the gun to Colin's cage. "One more step and the chicken gets it." He realised straight away that it was a pretty lame plan (to say the least) but what choice did he have? Slug it out with a bloody giant?
That giant took a step forward, a smile on his large face. "I like it titch, it's got style," he said. "But you won't dare harm the chicken. What would stop me from killing you once the bird was dead?"
"Hmmm good point," mused Snow. "But you wouldn't have a magic chicken then."
The giant laughed. "Do you really think that is the one that lays the golden eggs? do me a favour, do I look stupid? I just left him there as bait in a trap, if anyone was foolish enough to follow."
Snow shrugged. "I don't know. Are you trying to tell me that you have loads of chickens up here?"
The giant took another step forward. "I have actually."
"Hold it Fatso," warned Snow. "I'll kill him, don't think I won't. One more step and it's Kentucky fried Colin."
The giant shrugged. "Then you'll be dead."
"Bloody hell!" cried out Kerry's voice from behind the giant.
"Not another bloody thief," roared the giant, spinning around to face the newcomer. "Hooray a babe," he added.
"Kerry get the smeg out of here," ordered Snow, as the giant made towards the girl. "Hey Numbnuts over here!" continued that man, firing his gun into the big guy's butt.
The giant cried out and spun around to squash the impertinent thief as flat as a pancake, but by now our hero had ducked under him and was running towards Kerry. "Run Kerry, I've got Colin," shouted Snow, as he reached the girl.
Kerry didn't move. "Run? Aren't you going to stay and fight?"
Snow dragged the girl towards the door. "Are you mental? We're getting out of here."
"Yeah but in the story th-" began Kerry, moving towards the door.
"Yeah but nothing," interrupted Snow. "I don't give a frog's fat arse what the story says, we're outta here."
They didn't speak again until they were at the main entrance. "Great," panted Snow, the big geezer was hot on their heels. "Keep going," he added, winning first prize in stating the bloody obvious. "We've got to keep going." he finished, taking the runners up spot as well.
Kerry didn't reply to all this obviousness being stated, she was half way back to the beanstalk already. Snow threw the thoroughly distressed Colin onto his back and followed the fleeing girl.
Our heroes made it back to the stalk just as the giant burst out of the castle, he did not look a happy bunny. He spotted them straight away and came haring towards them.
"Go!" bellowed Snow, slightly higher pitched than he would have ideally liked. "He looks pretty mad. I'm sure I can see steam coming out of his ears."
Snow waited until Kerry was a few metres down the stalk, fired a few shots at the onrushing giant, then hopped onto the stalk. The decent of the beanstalk was a lot more rapid than the ascent but then there was more of an incentive now. Snow scrambled down the stalk like his life depended on it, which it did. In some places he slid rather than climbed.
The minutes of panic turned into an hour of tired desperate climbing, followed all the while by the foaming at the mouth giant, Snow was exhausted and sure that he was about to fall any moment. "Sod this for a laugh," he muttered miserably.
"He's gaining on you," observed Kerry, from some ten metres below him.
"That's because he's not carrying a frigging chicken," moaned Snow.
"Don't worry we're nearly at the bottom," said Kerry.
Snow risked a look down. Kerry was right he was only fifty meters above McJock's back garden. "Kerry," he called down. "When you get low enough, shout down for McJock to get an axe or something."
"What for?" asked Kerry.
"What the hell do you think for?" bellowed Snow. "To chop down this stalk."
"But the council-"
"Bollocks to the council," swore Snow. "We need an axe."
McJock was standing there waiting for Snow when he finally dropped the final few feet to the garden, minus an axe. "An axe?" she was asking. "We don't have an axe, why on Earth do you want an axe?"
"To chop down the bloody beanstalk!" shouted Snow, the giant was getting closer all the time, he was only a hundred metres above them now.
"I've got some matches," said Kerry.
"So?"
"We could burn the stalk down."
"Great idea," enthused Snow. "Get the matches-hold it, I've got a better idea, my gun."
"But this stalk is protected," protested Madame McJock. "The council said we can't chop it down."
Snow gave the old crone a look of utter disbelief. "Are you kidding," he gasped. "It's us or him, Pal." with that final word, he let rip against the stalk's stem with the 44'. He didn't have much success, the stalk wobbled a bit but didn't break.
"I thought there was only six bullets in a magnum 44," commented Kerry.
"Common snap you bastard," cried Snow, ignoring Kerry's statement and jut continuing to fire at the stem again and again. The giant saw what he was doing and speeded up his descent.
"He's getting nearer," Kerry informed him.
"You don't say," snapped Snow. If they gave out prizes for stating the obvious, between them Kerry and he would have been triple medal winners. "It ain't gonna break," he muttered grimly.
Then it went. There was a loud crack, a continuous rustle of leaves and the stalk fell. The three dived for cover as the stalk came down like the infamous tonne of bricks, as did the giant.
"Duck!" cried Snow, quite unnecessarily, as the giant hit the cottage at about mach two and passed straight through into the kitchen. There followed a brief silence and then the cottage exploded, for no other reason than dramatic impact.
Snow grimaced then passed out for a few seconds. He came too looking into the face of Kerry, in the possess of trying to free him from several tonne of fried giant. He hurt all over from his head to his toes, he felt like he had been hit by a bus. It was then that he heard McJock's voice.
"You bloody morons," she was crying, from beneath a tonne of beanstalk. "You idiots! You pillocks! look what you've done, you've ruined my cottage, you and that thieving giant. I'm gonna sue your arse Spackman, look at Colin he's deep fried."
Snow looked at the chicken the crone held in her outstretched hands, it was tender, golden brown and well done. The wounded man groaned, what else could possibly go wrong with this story? He had chopped down a protected tree, destroyed an old woman's cottage, cooked a golden egg laying chicken and to round it off nicely, he had nearly killed himself.
"I think we better get out of here," said Kerry.
Snow forced himself free from the remains of the giant and made an attempt to wipe some of the disgusting stuff off his clothes. he gave the old crone a cheery wave. "Have a nice day," he said. "No charge for the chicken."
"Spackman you're a total bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep!" swore Madame McJock.
"Oh dear," said that man.
"Oh dear indeed," echoed Kerry. "I don't think we can do any more here."
Snow had to agree.
Bio:
E-mail: craig.cornwell@breathemail.net
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