Oswald the Giant

Zack Moraga didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be found guilty for a murder he didn’t commit. He didn’t deserve to be locked up in the smelliest god-awful dungeon for five years. He also didn’t deserve to have his only chance at freedom come at the price of hunting a giant with little more than a jagged dagger and a measly crossbow. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t lay a giant even if he had a fiery catapult and two battering ram teams. He was all alone out there in the Dread Wight forest with two crappy weapons and a death sentence disguised as a window of opportunity.

The poor prisoner didn’t even try to track down this “Oswald the Giant”. He just sat on a tree stump in the middle of this foggy forest and sulked with his spiky-haired head in his hand. What did he really do to deserve all of this? Why was he wearing leather blue prison armor instead of a decent outfit? Didn’t anybody even remotely entertain the idea that Zack Moraga might be an innocent man? All he was at that point was a statistic. An outcast. A walking corpse. These negative thoughts caused a sigh to slip from his chapped mouth.

Finally after a few hours of moping on that tree stump with nothing but his thoughts, the ground began to shake. At first it was a gentle rumble. But then as the beast got closer, the tremors knocked Zack off of his stump and sent him into a mad dash for safety. He was barely one step ahead of the giant as it put its foot down for another violent quake. And another step. And another step. While this would be considered moseying for a giant, it was an exhausting sprint for Zack, who fell off the dirt trail and into a ditch.

The would be giant slayer laid on his back after so much exercise and breathed heavily. His ribs were sore from the cardio and his feet felt like he was walking on swords barefoot. He was done for. This is what a corrupt justice system in medieval times amounted to. For god’s sake, if the giant wanted to kill Zack, why didn’t he do it already? Get it over with! Quit letting the anxiety build up!

And then the giant laid down beside Zack on the dirt trail and rolled on his back. He let out an animalistic yawn and then a longwinded…purr? Wait a minute. Giants don’t purr. Sure enough, Zack opened his sore eyes for a few seconds and saw that the “great” and “fierce” Oswald the Giant was an oversized tiger-striped cat who purred and played like any other domestic animal would. But for now, he was sleeping.

A cat? The high courts wanted Zack Moraga to kill a giant cat? What for, exactly? Was his heavy stepping really that much of a threat to the royal kingdom? Was there a sudden shortage of fur? How about meat? Were people that starved for a good meal? Whatever the case was, the imprisoned warrior shook his head and achingly pulled himself to his feet. There wouldn’t be a better time to slay the giant than right fucking now.

Even though his body was sore, Zack managed to find the strength within his tired bones to climb up on Oswald’s belly using his fur coat. The big gut rose and fell slowly and evenly. The purrs were mixed in with the snores. This cat was definitely unconscious. But sneaking across the moving belly without disturbing him proved to be difficult work for Zack.

He tried to maintain his acrobatic equilibrium whilst tiptoeing across the beast’s stomach. Thinking this kill was already his, the hunter pulled out his crappy dagger and raised it in the air, hoping to get a good stab to the throat. He was almost there. He could feel the sweet taste of freedom. And then Zack stumbled on his ass and awakened the kitty giant, the rusty blade dropping to the ground below.

Oswald looked at the strange creature on his belly and lifted his head to try and lick him off like a flea. “Oh, dear god! Why?! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” screamed Zack as he was getting bathed in feline saliva. The goopy fluids caused the jailbird to stick to Oswald’s tongue and be flung high in the air after the cat spit him out.

While in the air, the cat giant batted him around like a common toy with all four of his fuzzy paws. Zack Moraga continued to curse and scream since the harsh motion (along with the spittle) was making him sick to his stomach. A final wave of Oswald’s paw sent the fighter off to the side of the dirt trail into the ditch once again.

Zack hit the ground hard enough to finally trigger a storm of vomit from his already filthy mouth. After about half a minute of puking, it was pretty much just dry heaves, which went to show how poorly prisoners were fed under this justice system. How badly they were defeated was also evident when Zack laid in a puddle of his own (and Oswald’s) oral filth and didn’t care about life anymore. It was over.

“Who am I kidding?” he said to himself. “This was a setup from the start. I don’t know how to slay a giant, much less a goddamn cat. Fuck this. I’m…going…back…to sleep.” He let out an acidic yawn and started to pass out when Oswald was nudging him with his wet nose.

“Stop it, leave me alone!” said Zack weakly. “Just kill me already! It’s over! My life is over! Why are you taking so long?!” Oswald was licking him again and the saliva didn’t smell any better than it did before. “Why?! Why must you do this to me?!”

After a while of licking, Zack was clean of his vomit, but not of cat spittle, so it was a minor victory at best. Oswald then grabbed Zack by his shirt collar with his teeth and tucked him into his belly before snuggling around the suicidal warrior. Along the way, Zack heard his crossbow drop on the ground as well, but he wasn’t going to lift a pinky in order to pick it up. To be honest, Oswald’s furry cuddle was more comfortable than any straw bed in that crappy dungeon. It didn’t take long for Zack to fall asleep in the cat giant’s loving hold.

The entire night had passed over the Dread Wight Forest and still Zack’s handlers didn’t see any progress made. The two seven-foot tall knights clad in steel armor and carrying war hammers were trudging through the forest in search of their ill gotten prisoner. “I told you we couldn’t rely on that pathetic weasel to get the job done!”

“What did you expect? He’s one guy with the most basic weapons we can come up with. Do you really think he stood a chance? Besides, there really was no hope for him after all. This had death sentence written all over it.”

“So the whole thing was just one sick joke from the start?”

“Pretty much. Now where is the little bastard? I’m hungry and I don’t want to stay in this wretched forest any longer.”

The ground shook and knocked the two towering knights on their asses, yet they kept steady grips on their war hammers. Before them stood Oswald the Giant, with his teeth showing, his drool flowing, and his hisses and growls coming at intimidating paces. Even so, the two knights weren’t the least bit scared. They laughed at the kitty giant before getting up and dusting themselves off.

“Come on, you giant turd! Let’s see what you’ve got!” shouted one of the knights before that same knight felt a sharp pain going up the crack of his ass. He danced around bleeding and screaming like a little girl until he eventually lost his footing and spun out into the ditch below to die.

The other knight noticed that the source of the anal pain was a crossbow bolt, one issued only to prisoners of this “death sentence”. The steel-clad warrior looked around and saw Zack Moraga leaning against a tree with his arms folded and the smoking gun (or cocked crossbow) in his hand.

“You sick bastard!” screamed the remaining knight as he stampeded toward the unflinching Zack with his war hammer ready to strike. The seven-foot warrior felt a hard smack against his back and flew into another oak tree with explosive force. The pain was horrendous, so much so that turning his head to see who smashed him was a chore itself. It was Oswald and his giant paw, no doubt.

As soon as the knight peeled himself out of the tree, he fell over in a weakened state and was ripe for the picking. Zack waddled over to him and lifted his head before saying, “Justice is finally served!” That was the last thing the knight heard before he felt the jagged edge rip his throat to pieces, bleeding him out and suffocating him at the same time. He died instantly.

After the two handlers were disposed of, Zack threw aside his weapons and looked up at Oswald with a big smile on his face. He hadn’t smiled in such a long time and it felt good to do so. The now ex-prisoner climbed up on Oswald’s back and said, “Take me home, kitty-pie. I have a baby girl who’s dying to meet you!”

The jolly gray giant meowed and purred as he trotted across the forest, fully intending to take Zack home where he belongs.