CENTENNIAL, CO - What started as an act of kindness during a Wisconsin vacation has turned into a suburban agricultural crisis that has left one local neighborhood swimming in oversized zucchini and questioning the laws of physics.
Retired suburban backyard farmer Erik Agnarsson thought he was helping out a down-on-his-luck seed merchant when he made what seemed like an innocent purchase this past spring. The mysterious vendor, who claimed to be the same man who sold Jack his famous beanstalk beans, was hawking seeds with promises of "gargantuan crops" to largely skeptical Wisconsin tourists.
"The guy looked like he hadn't made a sale all day," Agnarsson recalled, adjusting his glasses as he surveyed his backyard kingdom of colossal cucurbits. "I figured worst case scenario, I'd get some normal-sized vegetables. Boy, was I wrong."
Agnarsson purchased a small bag of zucchini seeds for what he describes as "a reasonable price." The merchant, whose identity remains unknown despite ongoing investigation by The Daily Howe-itzer, reportedly offered to throw in complementary bean seeds. Anderson politely declined, promising to return "next year" if the zucchini performed as advertised.
They performed.
"I've never seen anything grow like that," Agnarsson marveled, gesturing toward zucchini the size of small watermelons currently dominating his previously modest garden plot. "I'm starting to think that guy wasn't kidding about the whole Jack and the Beanstalk thing."
The supernatural growth has created what neighbors are calling "The Great Zucchini Distribution Dilemma of 2025." Agnarsson reports having enough surplus produce to supply his entire block, with individual squashes weighing in at over 5 pounds each.
Local resident Sunny L., who requested anonymity due to ongoing zucchini-related trauma, confirmed the scale of the situation. "I made a year's supply of zucchini bread and lemon zucchini muffins from just ONE squash," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "My freezer can't take much more. None of our freezers can."
The situation has left Agnarsson conflicted about honoring his promise to return to Wisconsin next year for those bean seeds. A former New York firefighter known for his climbing abilities, Agnarsson admits that age and wisdom have given him pause.
"Back in the day, I was one of the best climbers in my Ladder Company," Agnarsson reflected, staring wistfully at a cloud that seemed suspiciously beanstalk-shaped. "But now I'm not sure I'm up to climbing magical beanstalks. My legs aren't what they used to be."
"Maybe I'll just stick with more zucchini seeds," he conceded with visible regret. "They're much lower to the ground and easier to pick.
Agnarsson’s wife, Astrid, was unavailable for comment. She was filming what neighbors describe as a 'frantic cooking show' in her kitchen, desperately trying to document 47 different zucchini recipes before the next harvest wave hits.
Local agricultural experts remain baffled by the phenomenon, with County Extension Office director Dr. Patricia Mills admitting, "This defies everything we know about cucurbit cultivation. Either this man has discovered the agricultural find of the century, or we're dealing with something that belongs more in a Brothers Grimm story than a farming manual."
The Wisconsin Department of Agriculture has launched an investigation into the mysterious seed merchant, though officials admit they don't know which laws, if any, apply to fairy tale-based agricultural sales.
The Daily Howe-itzer will continue following this developing story and plans to embed a reporter with Anderson on his 2026 Wisconsin expedition, should he choose to pursue those bean seeds. Our legal department is currently reviewing liability coverage for giant-related incidents.
Contact the news desk if you have tips about suspicious seed merchants or unusually large vegetables in your area.