Ever thought about what you’d say to some of those fairy tale characters you grew up hearing and reading about if you ever had the chance? OK, so maybe you’ve got better things to do, but that’s where I come in. I’m paid to think of this kind of stuff, so read on for a list of ten things I would have told Jack about his magic beans:
- For one thing, Jack obviously needs to be told that in this world, if you settle for working for beans, you’ll never be able to move out of your mom’s house. Judging from his business decisions, he could use a tutorial in finances.
- Let’s just put the cards on the table here and call a spade a spade. As far as I’m concerned, if you define “magic” as burglary, murder, and preying on a man’s wife, then you aren’t worth a hill of beans, Jack.
- Why would that old man rather have a cow that didn’t give milk than these so-called “magic” beans of yours, anyway? Sounds fishy to me. I suspect that you’ve been duped, but that’s just my opinion.
- Let’s see … First you traded a cow for some beans, then stole a hen that only lays eggs made out of gold. And you wonder why you’re always hungry? I’m betting you blow all that gold on a weekend in Vegas.
- Only a beanstalk-hugging vegan would trade that much beef for a lousy handful of beans. By the way, I’ve got some magic Brussels sprouts I can make you a deal on. They’re imported from Belgium and, if you add water, they sprout 24 karat diamonds.
- If you really want to see some beans talk, stick around our house after we’ve had Mexican food for dinner. We won’t exactly be laying golden eggs or playing harp music, I can promise you that.
- There’s a modern-day equivalent of magic beans, and it’s called Viagra. We’d be careful where we planted them if we were you, though, and definitely recommend not introducing them to an ogre’s wife.
- As Jack’s next door neighbor, I would have told him that his magic beans should have been planted on the other side of his house, because ever since that beanstalk sprang up, my satellite dish can’t get a decent signal.
- Our chihuahua got hold of some of those magic beans after Jack’s mom threw them out of their kitchen window. We’d just like Jack to know that now we’ve got a Great Dane who lays golden turds in our yard the size of chihuahuas.
- Another bit of advice I would have given Jack would be to get a good copyright lawyer and file for a patent on those magic beans. He’d be worth a fortune now if he were still around, if only he could have made sure he’d get a piece of, ironically enough, Green Giant vegetables.
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