Saul, King of Israel, was in a bit of a bind. A towering, unpleasantly muscular Philistine by the name of Goliath had been prancing about the battlefield for days, bellowing challenges, flexing biceps the size of roast oxen, and generally being a frightful bore. The general mood in the Israelite camp was one of enthusiastic cowardice.
"I say, someone really ought to do something," murmured Saul, tugging at his beard. "Absolutely topping idea, Your Majesty," agreed one of his commanders. "But—er—who, precisely?"
At this juncture, a bright young spark by the name of David sauntered in, carrying a picnic basket. A genial, fresh-faced fellow, he was more accustomed to dealing with sheep than homicidal giants, but he had that insufferable confidence so often found in younger sons with too much leisure time.
"What's all this about a spot of bother?" he inquired. "Mother sent me to bring you chaps some sandwiches—watercress, I’m afraid, but needs must—but instead I find you all looking like you've seen a ghost with indigestion."
"Not a ghost," Saul sighed, pointing at Goliath, who was currently doing lunges and shouting something about crushing bones into jelly. "A giant. And a rather keen one, at that."
David adjusted his hat at a jaunty angle. "Well, that’s dashed inconvenient."
"Yes, rather."
"Well, I suppose I could pop over and have a word with the fellow."
There was a moment of stunned silence, followed by a burst of laughter. "You?" said Saul. "He's got a spear the size of a tree!"
"Ah, but does he have a slingshot and a can-do attitude?" David waggled his eyebrows and fished a few pebbles from his satchel. "One good whack in the noggin, and it’s tally-ho for our oversized chum."
Goliath, in the meantime, had finished his warm-ups and was making some rather unkind remarks about Israelite parentage.
"Right-ho," said David, stretching his arms. "Let's get this over with. The sandwiches are getting soggy."
Before anyone could stop him, he trotted into the field, whistling cheerfully. Goliath, upon seeing him, blinked. "What is this? A child? With sticks and stones?"
"Well, technically just stones," David said, selecting a particularly handsome one. "And I wouldn't get too chummy if I were you. I've a rather steady hand."
With a flick of the wrist, he let fly. The stone arced through the air, smacking Goliath squarely between the eyes. The giant wobbled, flailed, and—like a felled oak—crashed to the ground with an almighty thud.
There was a stunned pause.
David dusted his hands. "Well, that was easier than I expected."
The Israelite army erupted into cheers, and Saul, beaming, clapped David on the back. "My boy, you are something else!"
"Yes, well, I do try," David said modestly. "Now, if you don’t mind, I’d rather like to get back to the sheep before they start plotting a coup."
And with that, he strolled off, whistling a jaunty tune, as the Philistines ran for their lives.
