Grimmtown seems to have its (un)fair share of Jacks – most of them singularly useless at whetever they try and put their minds to. Off the top of my head I can come up with:
Jack (no second name): none too bright kid who swapped a prime dairy cow for a handful of magic beans (I rest my case). Had to help him out with a giant problem he was having. If I have the time, I’ll tell you about it someday.
Jack the Giant Killer: an exception to the rule. No relation to the previous idiot. As the name implies, he’s a useful guy to have around. Runs a primo bodyguard service for our town’s rich and famous celebs.
Jack B. Nimble: another useless waste of space who has the most pointless party piece in history: he puts a candlestick in the middle of the street and spends the rest of the day jumping back and forth over it. As a result has an entry in the Grimmtown Book of Records for most recorded leaps over a single candlestick. He’s been living off it ever since. If you ever see him in a bar, avoid like the plague or be prepared to die of boredom. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Jack (and Jill). If you are ever in need of medical assistance and you see this guy coming towards you, play dead. If not, regardless of what you may be suffering from, he will try to cover your head with vinegar and brown paper and recommend bed rest. Was kicked out of medical school.
Jack Horner: irritating schoolboy, wannabe detective and useful to have when you’re in a tight corner. When I was in the clutches of the Wicked Witch of the West Side, he was the one who rescued me. Never stops talking. Sees himself as my sidekick – as if I needed one.
So if you have a newborn boy and you’re struggling for a name, please don’t call him Jack. Being constantly ridiculed and compared to the above is a burden he shouldn’t have to carry for the rest of his life
