The BFG

Feeding Time

While the giants were being captured, a tremendous bustle and hustle was going on back home in England. Every earth-digger and mechanical contrivance in the country had been mobilized to dig the colossal hole in which the nine giants were to be permanently imprisoned.

Ten thousand men and ten thousand machines worked ceaselessly through the night under powerful arc-lights, and the massive task was completed only just in time.

The hole itself was about twice the size of a football field and five hundred feet deep. The walls were perpendicular and engineers had calculated that there was no way a giant could escape once he was put in. Even if all nine giants were to stand on each other’s shoulders, the topmost giant would still be some fifty feet from the top of the hole.

The nine giant-carrying helicopters hovered over the massive pit. The giants, one by one, were lowered to the floor. But they were still trussed up and now came the tricky business of releasing them from their bonds. Nobody wanted to go down and do this because the moment a giant was freed, he would be sure to turn on the wretched person who had freed him and gobble him up.

As usual, the BFG had the answer. ‘I has told you before,’ he said, ‘giants is never eating giants, so I is going down and I shall untie them myself before you can say rack jobinson.’

With thousands of fascinated spectators, including the Queen, peering down into the pit, the BFG was lowered on a rope. One by one, he released the giants. They stood up, stretched their stiffened limbs and started leaping about in fury.

‘Why is they putting us down here in this grobsludging hole?’ they shouted at the BFG.

‘Because you is guzzling human beans,’ the BFG answered. ‘I is always warning you not to do it and you is never taking the titchiest bit of notice.’

‘In that case,’ the Fleshlumpeater bellowed, ‘I think we is guzzling you instead!’

The BFG grabbed the dangling rope and was hoisted out of the pit just in time.

The great bulging sack he had brought back with him from Giant Country lay at the top of the pit.

‘What’s in there?’ the Queen asked him.

The BFG put an arm into the sack and pulled out a gigantic black and white striped object the size of a man.

‘Snozzcumbers!’ he cried. ‘This is the repulsant snozzcumber, Majester, and that is all we is going to give these disgustive giants from now on!’

‘May I taste it?’ the Queen asked.

‘Don’t, Majester, don’t!’ cried the BFG. ‘It is tasting of trogfilth and pigsquibble!’ With that he tossed the snozzcumber down to the giants below. ‘There’s your supper!’ he shouted. ‘Have a munch on that!’ He fished out more snozzcumbers from the sack and threw them down. The giants below howled and cursed. The BFG laughed. ‘It serves them right left and centre!’ he said.

‘What will we feed them on when the snozzcumbers are all used up?’ the Queen asked him.

‘They is never being used up, Majester,’ the BFG answered, smiling. ‘I is also bringing in this sack a whole bungle of snozzcumber plants which I is giving, with your permission, to the royal gardener to put in the soil. Then we is having an everlasting supply of this repulsant food to feed these thirstbloody giants on.’

‘What a clever fellow you are,’ the Queen said. ‘You are not very well educated but you are really nobody’s fool, I can see that.’