A Giant Joke

The story of a giant with terrible taste in jokes!

Humor & Comedy, Short Story, Suitable for Young Readers
Dyslexia Font
Michele Clark McConnochie

Sep 20   ●  6 min read   ● 

Pull-my-Finger the Giant only had one joke, probably like your dad or grandad. But he was very
fond of it and he told it as often as he could.

This was it:
“Hey, pull my finger,” he would say, bending down and holding out a finger that was as big as a

“OK,” a poor, unsuspecting person would say and, taking hold of his finger in both of their hands,
they would give it a yank. And Pull-my-Finger the Giant would let out a noisy, smelly fart. Then he
would laugh and laugh at his own joke, also a bit like most people’s dads and granddads do.

The people of the town where he lived soon got fed up with his joke. One old lady had such a big fright from the loud ‘toot’ noise that she fell over backwards and banged her head. A little boy was sick because of the terrible the smell and then got into trouble from his mum for messing up his clothes. Visitors stopped visiting because they could see a green cloud floating above the town.
One day, the Mayor called a meeting and they all agreed that enough was enough and nobody should pull Pull-my-Finger the Giant’s finger any more.
The next day, the giant strolled into town. As usual, he walked there through the fields and on the way, he stuffed a haystack into his mouth and swallowed it whole without even bothering to chew. When he got to town, he patted his tummy. It was already gurgling and burbling. He grinned and stretched his finger a few times to get it ready. Then he saw the mayor.
“Oh Mayor Chains!” he called, “Oh Mayor Chains! Want to pull my finger?” But the Mayor walked past, ignoring the giant. “Huh, I wonder what’s up with him,” thought Pull-my-Finger. Then he saw the school teacher, Mr. Crayon. He tried the same trick on him, but Mr. Crayon ignored him too. And so did Miss Muck-Spreader the farmer, Mrs. High-Vis the police officer and Mr. Bargain, who ran the supermarket. The poor giant was very upset. None of the children would even look at him. Except for one. That was Brian Barf, the little boy who had been sick. He remembered how other people had ignored him when he smelled bad because of the barf on his jumper, and had even crossed the street so they would not have to be too close to him. He remembered how he had felt lonely and embarrassed and had wished someone would be his friend.
Brian went up to Pull-my-Finger and said, “Excuse me up there!”
The giant looked around; was that a bee buzzing by?
Then he felt a little tugging on the hair on his big toe. Was that a worm crawling over his foot? He looked down and saw Brian.
“Hey,” he said. “Want to pull my finger?” But his voice was sad. He already knew what the answer would be.
“No thank you,” said Brian. “Last time it made me sick and that wasn’t very nice. People laughed at me and my mum told me off, too.” He waited for the giant to think about what he had told him but Pull-my-Finger was watching a pretty cloud float past his nose. Brian sighed. “It made me feel the same way as you feel now,” he told him. Pull-my-Finger suddenly sniffed very snottily and the cloud vanished up his nose. Ah, that was better. He could feel it working its way down to his tummy, where it would mix with all the hay and become an excellent fart.
Then Brian’s words worked their way inside him too, but they went up to his brain.
“I feel sad because I haven’t got any friends,” he said to the boy. “Is that because I make them feel bad with my joke?” Brian nodded and then jumped backwards because a big bucket-sized tear plopped from the giant’s eye. He sat down heavily and Brian patted him on the elbow.
“It’ll be OK,” he told him. “Just don’t do so many farts, and maybe think of some new jokes.”
So Pull-my-Finger the Giant started to eat his haystacks more slowly, stopped sniffing up clouds and became Knock-Knock the Giant instead.
“Knock, knock, Brian,” he said.
“Who’s there?” asked Brian.
“Anne,” said the giant.
“Anne who?” asked Brian.
“An-other great joke from me,” said Knock-Knock. Then he laughed and laughed and laughed because, even though he did not fart as much as he used to, he still laughed at his own jokes.


Are you a professional or budding writer and want to contribute with a story? We would love to have you on board!