One morning Giant Fairweather looked out from his castle on the mountain. The sky was as blue as a bird’s egg and the sun cast a warm light over the valley.
"What a super day for a picnic," he said.
So he packed up a basket of goodies and put on his hawk’s feather hat. After closing his castle door he locked it and hung the key on his belt.
"You never know who’s hanging about these days," he said to himself.
Then he set off.
Across the valley Giant Blowhard was standing at his castle window. There was a sour, grumpy look on his face. He hadn’t slept well and his tummy rumbled with hunger because his pantry was almost empty.
"Aha!" he muttered, when he saw Giant Fairweather set off. "Fairweather thinks he’s going to have a picnic. I'll soon fix that."
So Giant Blowhard opened his window and sucked in till his cheeks bulged like twin balloons. Then he let go a WHOOSH that blew up a heap of black rain clouds.
"Take that, Fairweather!" he shouted down into the valley. To the people below it sounded like a rumble of thunder.
Giant Fairweather sheltered under a tree, shaking his head.
"There shouldn’t be any rain this morning," he said, looking back up the valley. "This must be Blowhard in a temper. That fellow’s a pain."
Turning his blue eyes on the clouds, he dried them up.
From his dark castle Giant Blowhard glared. "Huh!" he growled. "If Fairweather thinks he can get the better of me, he’s out of his mind."
He blew up more clouds and rain.
"Blowhard’s a bully," grunted Giant Fairweather, "and a mean one at that."
Again he melted the clouds away.
And so it went on.
Up and down the valley mothers hung out their washing, and took it in again.
Farmers were in despair because they wanted to sow oats and corn. They grumbled bitterly to each other about the weather.
Down in the city the television weatherman’s phone ran hot with heaps of complaints.
"You said the weather was going to be fine."
"What’s the use of a forecast that’s not right?"
"Get your act together."
The weatherman didn’t know what to say. His weather maps showed a clear sunny day.
Then suddenly he snapped his fingers.
"It must be those two giants!" he said. "They're at it again and making a fool of me with their bickering."
So he called up Giant Fairweather.
When Giant Fairweather heard the merry tune on his mobile he punched the okay button. "Fairweather here," he grunted.
"It should be fair weather," snapped the weatherman, "because that’s what my weather map shows. What is it with you two giants? For goodness sake, leave the weather out of your bickering."
"you’re blaming the wrong party," retorted Giant Fairweather. "This has nothing to do with me. In fact I’m on my way down to the lake for a picnic."
So the weatherman turned to his second phone and rang Giant Blowhard.
Before he picked up his phone Giant Blowhard let go another big breath. The wind bent the trees over and more rain drenched on the countryside.
"Look, Blowhard!" shouted the telly weatherman, "How can I forecast the weather if you two go on like this?"
"Like what?" said Giant Blowhard.
"Don’t give me that," growled the weatherman. "I know an argument between two stubborn giants when I see one."
"Tell Fairweather to give in and go home then."
Well, Giant Fairweather heard this because the weatherman’s two phones were connected and he was still on the first line.
"I set out for a picnic," he snapped, "and I intend to have one. It was a perfect day till you poked your nose in. Butt out."
"And I want the forecast to be right," growled the weatherman. "That’s impossible if you two go on like this."
"We need the rain," huffed Giant Blowhard.
"Like a hole in your head," snapped Giant Fairweather.
"Stop it! Stop it!" yelled the weatherman.
"Look, if you two giants want to have an argument, keep the weather out of it. If you can't, I'll make sure that no more food is delivered to your castles."
Now this was a terrible threat, because both giants loved eating, nearly as much as they liked arguing. For a moment or two they fell silent.
The weatherman could hear heavy breathing on each line. He crossed his fingers and lifted his eyes in a silent prayer, hoping his bluff would work.
At last Giant Fairweather spoke up. "I'll give up if he does," he said.
"We need the rain," insisted Giant Blowhard.
"What I need are two sensible giants," snapped the weatherman.
"Come on, play fair."
With the phone still at his ear, Giant Blowhard glared down at Giant Fairweather.
Giant Fairweather stared back up at the gloomy black castle of his rival.
"Well?" demanded the weatherman. "Give me an answer."
Suddenly Giant Fairweather had an idea.
"Would you like to join me on my picnic?" he asked Giant Blowhard.
"A picnic!" Giant Blowhard opened and closed his mouth like a stranded fish. Then he licked his lips. "Only if there are heaps of good things to eat," he blustered.
"Four chickens, two legs of lamb, a side of ham and a dozen pork pies, with half a dozen water melons to follow."
"Done," said Giant Blowhard, licking his lips. "I’m on my way."
When they met by the lake Giant Fairweather nodded at Giant Blowhard.
Giant Blowhard humped and chumped and cleared his throat.
Not knowing what to say to each other, they both sat down. Giant Blowhard looked hard at the basket.
"Would you like something to eat?" asked Giant Fairweather.
Once they started eating they began to laugh and joke. Soon they were rolling about as happy as larks.
The weatherman was pleased too because he has had no more bother from them since, and has found his job much easier.
He still doesn’t always get the weather right though.
© Trevor Wilson
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