Stalking Jack

Jack, you’re on my mind: You, of magic bean myth, jumper of candle sticks, tumbling down the hill with Jill, the guy who could eat no fat and stuck your finger in a pie (snicker).

You’re everywhere man, and since no press is bad press...you Sir are legend.

I was thinking the other day about the time you traded your family’s only food source in for some magic beans. When I read this as a kid I thought it was a great move. Who wouldn’t want a magic bean stalk?
In reality, your judgement was poor. It would have been like me spending my father’s entire salary on “The Amazing Live Sea Monkeys”...and I’m not going to make that mistake again. It was risky business Jack, sacrificing your family’s security on a whim. Did you ever stop to wonder why a farmer with access to magic beans would need your cow in the first place? Then you climbed that stalk without a cell phone or a buddy to help you out. Glad the magic harp lessons paid off, but I gotta wonder if it was a smart move. You’re lucky golden eggs were even recognized as currency in your township.
Exactly how many six-pence’s is a golden egg worth anyhow?

I guess you became a bit of an adrenalin addict. Dodging a child eating giant should have been enough for you, but there you were not long after, making the headlines again jumping over candle sticks. I’m glad you’re nimble and quick but it only takes one small miscalculation to end up in the burn unit at Mother-Goose General. It wasn’t a very good example to set. Did you ever once consider your audience? How many 21st century tots have laid awake wondering how to get a hold of some tall candle sticks and their father’s Bic. Every time I see “house fire” in the news... I think of you.

Which brings me to your next escapade: Are you or are you not the same Jack who was depicted on page 235 of my beloved Mother Goose Anthology in short pantaloons putting your thumb in a pie?
You’re a cheeky boy Jack. Perhaps your mother should think twice about letting you snack during a punishment.

It’s no wonder you grew to be lard-intolerant, changed your name to Spratt and married a girl with serious fat potential. Serves you right really.

And this woman...is she Jill? The same tart you took to the top of the hill? Did she really love you or was she just after your golden eggs (so to speak)? And how is it someone claiming to be “nimble and quick” found himself tumbling down a simple hill? I saw that hill in a cartoon series. I’ll admit it was a stupid place to put a well (Mother Hubbard could never have navigated that slope), but it was nothing compared to the stalk you had famously mastered. Perhaps you should have lined the hillside with candles and leapt safetly to solid ground.

And back to Jill: did she stick around to mend your crown? Or did you turn to the Lamb-owning-Quite-Contrary-Mary for comfort?

And finally I need to know; what is your connection that notorious Pumkin-eater known as Peter-Peter? Surely it is no coincidence that two lads for the same era, found themselves in possession of giant vegetables (so to speak). Did you grow up in “The Shoe” together? Did the two of you combine your interests (pumpkins, candles) and develope a little something called the "jack-o-lantern"? And if so, where is the wife-he-couldn't-keep now that her residence has been carved up? Is she baking black-birds in a pie? Building London Bridge up with sticks and stone? Taken up with Georgie Porgie?

And one more thing Jack, do you know or know of a fellow called "Wee Willy Winky"? I read a report, (a rhyming report actually), that he once ran "up and down" the town in his "night gown". Oddly enough there is a group of young people around here that wear thier pajama pants about town and I was wondering if perhaps he might have some relatives in our shire.