Gorgonzola slammed his giant fist onto the gathering of pitchfork-wielding villagers. He instantly regretted it. He should have hit them with an open palm. He would have crushed more of them. His fist was only able to crush a smattering of the pesky weasels. He was even more annoyed when he realised that some of them had been holding torches, and now some hair on the back of his hand was singed. He frowned, which the remaining villagers must have thought was a preface to more violence. He hated the vicious stereotype that everyone had of him. He was a giant descended through a long line of giants. He’d lived his whole life in the mountains, where he could settle peacefully. He and his friends were peaceful people, but technological advances had led to more and more intrusions into the mountains. The number of noisy helicopters, drones, nosy mountaineers and parcel delivery services had become untenable. Even a few optimistic billionaires decided to build mountain residences to protect their privacy. The irony that they were intruding on his own privacy was entirely lost in these uncivilised monsters. He had taken the very painful decision to come down from the mountains and try to reason with these people. Gorgonzola was educated and assumed that everyone outside of the mountains would be the same. He was, sadly, completely wrong. Whilst he had prepared some compelling and irresistible arguments, he was greeted with nothing more than angry vitriol, fear and attack. Things had started fine, with discussions initially being quite productive, but after that first meal, everyone’s opinion changed. At the time, he thought nothing would be better than breaking bread to seal a burgeoning relationship. It wasn’t entirely made clear to him that not all animals were fit for consumption. In the mountains, you made do with whatever was at hand. Everything was game, and frankly, he’d gotten tired of goat meat and was excited to sample something else, but with the first breaking of the man’s bones, the largely amicable people suddenly screamed in horror. He vaguely wondered whether that particular man had been important or whether all men were considered taboo food. He’d been watching humans kill each other using more and more advanced weapons for decades. He wasn’t really sure why one more was an issue.
After that first incident, he’d gotten a little bit of a taste for humans. They were pretty fragile creatures, and many of them were somewhat fleshy. He thought that maybe if he cooked them first, people might be a little less horrified, but it didn’t seem to work. He scraped the flattened remains of the people he’d just crushed onto his hands and tossed them into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully, savouring the flavour. He assumed that the people who’d just escaped would call on some sort of armed resistance. So far, he’d been attacked using guns and bombs. The small guns were largely impotent, but the bombs that flew through the air were very irritating. They produced an incredible smoke which made him cough his guts out. He was tempted to swat the planes from the air if they were to try that again.
Overall, he was rather miserable. His life had been turned upside down in the last few months, and he regretted coming down from his mountains. The other giants had told him no good would come of it and that humans were savages. He’d ignored them, believing them prejudiced towards the tasty human snacks. Now that he’d come down himself, he’d realised they were speaking from experience.
He strolled through the human village and noted that for savages, the humans were very good at arranging their settlements. There were organised roads with sturdy rectangular buildings on either side. There were boxy-wheeled vehicles that the humans seemed to use for transport. He’d accidentally stepped on one, and it had exploded, which caused some uncomfortable blisters on his foot. They appeared very resourceful, and he struggled to understand how ignorant and unwelcoming they could be. There were occasional large flat panels with colourful pictures and words among the buildings. Gorgonzola was an educated giant, and he’d made an effort to learn the human language and writing protocols. He paused in front of one of these large billboards with a picture of a man sitting on a chair in front of a comfortable-looking office. The billboard had the following words: “Are you feeling down? Depressed? Is life not going the way you want it to? Come and speak to Dr Nasher, and let me guide you through a therapeutic journey.”
Gorgonzola reread it several times. That sounded like just the thing. A little bit of therapy sounded perfect. He looked around him and noticed a man hiding behind a tree. He grabbed him, being careful not to crush his bones before he could answer some questions. He pointed the man at the billboard. “Where is this man?” He asked, in what he hoped was a conversational tone. The man struggled to speak for a few moments, but Gorgonzola relaxed his grip. The man screamed until he lost his breath, at which point the giant reiterated his question a little more forcefully: “Where can I find this man?” His prisoner was a little shocked that the giant could speak the same language and took a moment to read the address on the billboard. The man extracted an arm from the giant fist enclosing him and used it to point, “It’s two streets away that way.” Gorgonzola decided to use him as a navigator and walked along until the man screeched that they’d arrived. The giant carefully placed the man on the ground, who instantly crumpled onto the floor and frantically started crawling away. Gorgonzola scratched his head for the moment; he always forgot how fragile humans were.
Gorgonzola ignored him and used his index finger to bang on his door. The man from the billboard appeared in the upstairs window to check who was knocking on his door. It took a moment for the scene in front of him to make sense, and once it finally did, he almost jumped out of his smoking jacket. Before he had a chance to run away or hide, Gorgonzola casually used his palm to crack the building like a nut and carefully moved some bits of bricks and concrete away.
“Doctor,” he said. The man was also almost as shocked that the giant could speak.
“Doctor,” he said again, hoping his formal title would bring the man to his senses. “I need your help. I need some therapy.”
“therapy?” the man asked, astounded.
“yes”, the giant replied, “I’m depressed.”
A spectrum of emotions seemed to run across the doctor’s face. At first, he was astounded by the absurdity of the situation. Next, he appeared to remember that his life was currently being threatened. Third, a mixture of survival instinct and professional curiosity took over. “Why….why…why of course Mr …erm…what should I call you?”
“Gorgo”, the giant replied, a whisper of a smile on his face. Gorgonzola had half expected that the Doctor would be uncooperative and he’d get no help from him at all. “Right,” said the Doctor. “Now, Mr Gorgo, you must realise this is somewhat unconventional. Typically, I need to have you sit in a relaxed environment where we can explore your feelings and give you the treatment you need.” Gorgonzola scratched his head with a giant finger. “Also,” said the doctor. “People usually pay me.” Gorgonzola looked at him funny. He was familiar with the human concept of exchanging small bits of paper for goods and services, and in more recent times, they seemed to have developed some sort of magical card that they waved in front of each other to finish their transactions. Gorgonzola didn’t see the need for it, but if it would make the Doctor more cooperative, he figured he’d better oblige. He glanced around, spotted a nearby ATM, and reached over to dig it out of the wall with his fingernails. Once extracted, he lifted the box-like safe with his fingers and squeezed it in front of the doctor. An avalanche of notes poured out of the cracks to the initial horror and then joy of the Doctor. Gorgonzola waited until it was empty and asked, “Where shall we sit?”
The Doctor, torn between fear and delight, took a moment to respond, “How about right here?”
Gorgonzola smiled for the first time in many weeks. Maybe not all humans were bad, he thought, and settled himself down on top of a nearby house. “Let’s get to know each other first,” said the doctor, eyeing the large mound of cash in front of him.
