Jack left Jack and hurried home with Jill tumbling along behind him. They’d bought the old witch Delilah's house that Hansel and Gretel made vacant with their elimination of the evil witch who had lots of hairs, mostly on and in her nose and ears, but no heirs, save the second cousin she’d once turned into a giant frog, who died while escorting a singing scorpion across a river soon after Delilah’d been baked into 'Witchloaf '™.
The witch had been a grand gardener, fond of having herbs and spicy plants to pick from to use in the cooking of children that had wandered into her yard by witchery induced accident. And so Jack and Jill only needed to snatch their matching garden weasels from the tool shed and magically till the loamy soil in preparation for the planting of magic beans. Once the seeds were in the ground, the couple retired to the bedroom where a near violent argument took place, what with Jack wanting Jill to dress up as Red Riding Hood while he attacked her in a wolf skin, and with Jill demanding he wear his moon costume and lie on the bed so she could strap on an extra pair of legs, tie her breasts together into one giant udder and jump over him multiple times as he poked her with a runaway fork and spoon. Finally they’d settled on Jack in drag as Goldilocks and Jill as Mama Bear… and after an hour of licking porridge off each other they went to sleep and dreamt of Leguminosae Magus, as REM always made them visualize in Latin.
The next morning Jill ran to the window and screamed. “Come quick Jack” she exclaimed; “we’re rich beyond our somnios indomitus!” (It was obvious to Jack that Jill was suffering a REM hangover, but he thought she was cute while speaking ancient languages of the real world so he let it pass without comment) Once reaching the window and a now quickly undressing mama bear costumed Jill he discovered that in the garden was a dozen of the tallest, fattest, most rigid beanpoles he’d ever seen! (Even more tall, fat and rigid than Mr. Hafflefinger the Sunday school teacher!)
“Holy crap!” he shouted; “Double holy crap! Lesser Jack wasn’t kidding! These freakin beans are magical!” Both changed into Tyrolean mountain climber clothes because, well, it seemed the thing to wear on a nice, warm day, and they ran outside to see how many beans they really had on their poles!
“Hundreds” Jill cried; “Bajillions!” she exaggerated. “See? We could feed the whole of the Great Mother’s Valley and still have beans left over to sell to the Poor Grimmarians! We’ll have more money than Midas! And we won’t have to turn each other into golden but inanimate objects to do it!”
But Jack was not listening to Jill’s prattling on, he was thinking. Thinking was Jack’s specialty. Ever since he’d broken his crown he believed he had special thinkin’ powers that would one day lead to his becoming KING-O-THE-WORLD!
“Beans are nothin’ little girl” he said to Jill disdainfully; “why settle with chump change when we could have the moon?”
“Oh sure” said Jill; “now he wants to wear the moon costu…”
“Quiet! I’m…. THINKIN’” And Jill dutifully clamped her adorable lips shut, knowing that to disturb Jack when he was thinkin, was like unto inviting Georgie Porgie to the house to play spin the bottle, and she wanted nothing more to do with that puddin’ eater.
Jack ran back inside the house and snatched his “Big Book of Horror for Children, plus Rhyme” from the shelf and began to rifle through its pages. “AHA!” he bellowed and pointed at a particular passage because he was slightly dyslexic in an A.D.D. sort of way and if he didn’t point at whatever he wanted to read the page would retreat into a swirling jumble of textual markings and spilled refreshment blottings.
“Uh huh, uh huh” he mumbled; “giant, golden goose, harpies, boney Englishman breads, Jacks… That’s it! Now we really will be rich! Thank goodness we just happened to have dressed in Tyrolean casual today cuz we’re gonna need the loose fitting pants so as to prevent loinal chaffing! C’mon honey, follow me!”
And they climbed and they climbed and they climbed some more and Jill whimpered “are ya sure we can’t just pick the beans and be satisfied with being really, really wealthy, instead of really, really, really wealthy? Cuz I’m really getting tired Jack; I could fall and break MY crown and you know what would happen then; I’d gain special magical thinkin powers just like you and you’d have to back off the superiority by misogyny crap cuz we’d be equals!”
Jack stopped and looked down toward his author assigned woman thing. “Aww snookums, just a few more thousand yards and we’ll be there. I’ll wear the little pig costume tonight and you can blow my house down.” Without a moment’s hesitation Jill salivated and nodded appreciatively, and they climbed the last 20 football fields or so into a great big Cumulus cloud before popping out the top where a lovely customs agent was waiting to check their visas.
“Jack” Jack said, “and my wife I think, Jill.”
“Wife I think?” said the customs agent. “You don’t know?”
“Well check the book if you don’t believe me” blustered Jack “No one knows. It was never specified. We put our money on being husband and wife. Now some people, they think we must be sister and brother which I reject out of hand for various reasons, not the least of which is if we truly are sister and brother any moment now we’ll be struck by lightning and carted off to hell for the naughty things we’ve done so really, you’d better hope that’s not the case since you’d be in the line of fire, and…”
“Got it” said the agent when most likely he didn’t really have anything at all but didn’t want to die that day so he just pointed down the used straw brown colored road and said “that way to the mean ol’ hungry giant and enjoy your stay on DA CLOUD ™.”