MAFOOMBAY

It began, perchance, by accident. 

The great giant, in his slumber, gave a mighty snort, and in that moment of unconscious breath, he unwittingly inhaled a small creature—a loomkin—whole. As the loomkin slid across the giant’s tongue, a taste, strange yet delightful, met his senses: a mingling of strawberry with a trace of honey. Now, the giant had never before tasted strawberry nor honey, for those delicate flavors had long since been extinct many centuries ago. Upon awakening, he licked his lips in wonder. 

For the loomkin was delicious. 

A diminutive race of peaceful beings; they had long sought to create a society of justice, sanity, and harmony. Their males grew no taller than four inches, whilst the females reached but three. Their lives were short, a mere score of years, though those wise and disciplined among them often extended their span to forty years or more. They bred often, and at first, the abundance of land sufficed. Yet, as their numbers swelled—millions turning to billions, and then trillions—they spread far and wide in search of new land. 

‘Twas during this expansion that they encountered the giants. 

A single step from a giant could crush thousands and thus they kept their distance. At first, the giants regarded the loomkin as mere insects—mindless pests without intellect. But as legend tells it, one day a giant, having drunk his fill, lay unconscious near a loomkin settlement. A grand notion struck, and soon, thousands swarmed the slumbering giant, cleansing his great face, nails, hair, and ridding his garments of dirt and lice. When the giant awoke, he was puzzled, finding the tiny creatures standing before him, hands folded in submission, awaiting his reaction. 

He smiled. 
They smiled. 
Thus, an alliance was born. 

The castles of the giants became homes for millions of loomkin, and each giant dwelt far from the next, bringing prosperity to the land from sea to sea. The loomkin multiplied and flourished, as did the giants. 

*** 

It took ten loomkin to clean each of the giant’s massive teeth. But, alas, it was that one fateful day when one unlucky loomkin slipped and tumbled down the giant’s throat. And to the giant’s great surprise, the taste was most pleasing. 

For generations, the giants and the loomkin had lived side by side, their histories intertwined with songs, dances, and traditions that celebrated their bond. Yet the loomkin, it seemed, were more than industrious—they were delectable. Their flavors were as varied as the fruits of the earth: some tasted of lemon, others of blueberry; still others like butter, tomatoes, corn, or carrots—flavors unknown to the carnivorous appetites of the giants.

Thus, the nature of their relationship evolved. 

The loomkin, once plentiful, found their numbers withering as the giants, now driven by appetite rather than alliance, consumed them with abandon. From millions, their ranks dwindled to mere thousands, until at last, none remained to labor for the towering giants. In their desperation, the giants embarked upon a quest, scouring the lands in search of more loomkin, seeking to satisfy their newfound craving. Yet, as the giants wandered further afield, they began to notice a strange and troubling pattern: many of their kind, who set out in search of loomkin, did not return. 

As it so happened, the giants, too, were delicious.