Jean and the Beanstalk

Once upon a time, in a land not so far away but definitely in the UK, there was a girl named Jean and somewhere in this fairy tale, she’d get some magic beans and an enchanted beanstalk. Of course, as early as now, it should be obvious that Jean’s no Jack ’cause, first, Jack’s a boy and Jean’s a girl. But also, and I guess more importantly, Jack’s poor while Jean’s fairy taley filthy rich.

Jean was fairy taley filthy rich ’cause she drank different flavors of coffee every day and posted the picture of the flavor of the day on her bedroom wall without fail.

She lived with her mother in an apartment where no green grass grew but where they did keep a cow in the form of Jean’s grandmother. Well, how could anyone argue that she wasn’t a cow when all she did was eat and get hated by the two for being fat and lazy? So they sold her, mysteriously forgetting the fact that if not for her, the two ladies might have never come into existence both in a fairy tale or in a real world.

One day, on the way to the mall to drink the day’s toffee nut super vegan impossible no-whey, no-weight latte, Jean met a guy with magic beans behind his glinting aviator glasses. How that was possible is completely irrelevant ’cause somewhere in this story, there’ll be a giant cupcake with a knack for interrogating humans and that’s more BS, if you ask me. So well, the guy with glinting aviators said, “You down?” Jean replied, “Hella down!” And the guy, deeply feeling how down Jean was, gave her all the magic beans saying, “Baby, no matter how down you are, these babies’ll bring you up.”

Back home, Jean showed the magic beans to her mom who said, “What the heck are those?”

“They’re magic beans, mom. Can’t you see?”

“Do they grow stylish friends?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then get them outta my face!” She shrieked and proceeded to give Jean’s open palms a roundhouse kick, sending all the magic beans out the apartment’s window.

That night, Jean woke up only to find their little apartment already shaded with a big-ass beanstalk that stretched up to the clouds. Jean, who had a natural inclination and talent for climbing, wasted no time climbing the magical beanstalk.

That’s when she noticed the beanstalk was actually made of stylish people. And not just simple stylish people–but complicated stylish people with different races!

A German girl serving as one of the stalk’s stem asked, “Are you down?”

Jean, smirking, stepped on top of her blonde hair saying, “Bitch, I’m goin’ up.”

Next, she saw a Finnish girl serving as one of the stalk’s leaves who asked, “You down?”

Jean, snorting, grabbed on her gianormous hoop earrings saying, “Bitch, I’m goin’ up.”

One push later and she was facing a Chinese girl serving as one of the stalk’s fruits who mused, “A-yu-daawn?”

“Biatch I’m waaaay above you!” Jean said.

And so up, up, up Jean went until her head was in the clouds.

That’s when she saw the most massive coffee shop she ever laid eyes on in all the 20 years of her life. It had circular tables as big as Saturn’s rings, ashtrays as large as the furnaces of hell, and shady umbrellas as wide as the dark matter in the sky and how on earth did those fit in there is completely irrelevant ’cause somewhere in this story, there’ll be a giant chicken who shits human remains and that’s more BS, if you ask me.

Back to Jean, who was already seated at one of the Saturn-sized tables talking to a guy with glinting aviator glasses. This guy is completely different from the other guy before who also had glinting aviator glasses although they look exactly the same in all aspects.

Jean and the aviator glasses guy talked about Paolo Coelho, “The 5 People You Meet in Heaven,” sucky poor Filipinos, and a fat high school classmate ’til their hell-furnace ashtrays were filled to the brim.


A giant cupcake rammed its body through the massive coffee shop’s gargantuan doors, its fluffy mouth filled with creamy peanut butter and chocolate exclaiming the words:

“Fee Fi Fo Fum, I smell the blood of a middle-class! Be she alive or be she dead, I’ll grind her bones for my giant chicken’s egg.”

With parts of the enormous door crashing behind it, the giant cupcake–baring its tantalizing red cherries for eyes–saw Jean seated at the Saturn table (the aviator glasses guy magically disappeared for guys like him had the power to come and go as they pleased without doing anything significant to remember them by except their glinting aviator glasses).

“Fee Fi Fo Fum, do you eat fastfood three times a day?” asked the mammoth-sized cupcake.

Fearing for her life, Jean responded, “No! I only eat steak!”

“Wrong answer!” And the giant cupcake tried to roll over her and she barely managed to escape!

“Fee Fi Fo Fum,” the beastly talking cupcake smelling of the sweetest vanilla you could ever imagine asked again, “do you like Hollywood films?”

Jean cowering shouted, “No! I only watch indie with subtitles!”

“Gaaahh! Wrong answer!” And the monstrous cupcake tried to roll over her again. Jean accidentally tripped on her high-heels and escaped! What a lucky break!

“Fee Fi Fo Fum,” the cupcake blared, white flour coming out of its nostrils, “are you a Filipino or an Englishman?”

Jean, almost fainting in fear said, “Well… I’m applying for citizensh–”

“GRAAAAAAAAAHHHH! WRONG ANSWER!” And out of nowhere, the giant cupcake produced a giant chicken who shat human remains, threw the fowl on Jean, and Jean was–quite abruptly–gone.

Her mother, who talked to the complicated stylish people with different races who formed the magical stalk, realized she couldn’t identify with them for all they talked about was how one could be down when one thought one’s already down, thus, what’s downer than down. But all Jean’s mother thought about was her. She missed her and remembered that she truly loved her.

But she didn’t have the strength to climb the stalk like her daughter for she was already old and, in a few years’ time, in fact, would certainly turn into another lazy, fat cow herself to be mercilessly sold. So what she did was cry and cry and scream at the sky for it to bring her daughter back into her arms and to their little apartment where no green grass grew.

It was then that the largest shit she ever saw in her life landed beside her with a tremendous “PLOP!”



Filed under fiction

2 responses to “Jean and the Beanstalk

  1. Hahaha XD what a cute, funny and random not so random story. love it! 😀 its genius!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s