Hall of Infinite Doors
"Gumballs," you say out loud. "I imagine candy must be easy to find here in Gingerbread Land. The whole place is candy!"
Walking along, you pass tents with signs reading "Frosting and Other Hardware," "Doughy Delights" and finally, "Simply Sugar". Gumballs are mostly sugar, aren't they? You decide to give it a try.
Walking inside, you see all four walls lined with bin after bin of colorful sugary candy. The little child buried not too deeply inside you jumps for joy.
"Can I help you find anything, sweetie?" says a warm voice behind you. You turn around and find yourself face to face with a very round, very smiley, very doughy woman whose gumdrop buttons just barely hold her overstretched shirt together. A mass of yellow rock candy stuck to her head provides the one spiky element in her otherwise soft and buttery physique.
"Well," you say, looking down to consult your list, "I need two big blue gumballs."
The dough-lady titters a little as you say this. You wonder what's so funny.
"Over here, sugar," she says, her big round shoulders still shaking as she struggles to suppress her laughter.
She approaches a low bin in the corner and opens it, quickly pulling out two blue gumballs and placing them in a little plastic bag. You look suspiciously at the bag.
"Are those the biggest ones you have?" you ask.
"Honey," she says, "that's as big and blue as big blue gumballs come." This sentence seems to send her into a real fit of laughter. "I'm sorry," she gasps, struggling to regain her composure. "Let's see, let's see. That's ten sprinkles, please."
It seems you'll have to use Mrs. Gingerbread's good name as credit again.
"Well, I'm a foreigner," you begin.
"Yes I can see that clear as the rolls in my tummy!" she laughs loudly, with just the tiniest hint of a malicious gleam in her eyes. "But you still have to pay."
"You see, Mrs. Gingerbread sent me here without any sprinkles, but it seems that she's established store credit in the market," you tell the clerk as assertively as you can.
"Did you say Mrs. Gingerbread?" the woman asks slyly.
"Yes," you say hopefully.
"Well why didn't you say so? Hahaha! Mrs. Gingerbread! Mrs. Gingerbread! Aaaahahaha!" Her fat rolls jiggle and jive with her uproarious bellowing. She actually falls on the ground, rolling around in seething, hilarious ecstasy. You don't say another word, but leave the shop quickly. Leaving behind her boisterous guffaws, you think that maybe she should lay off the sugar a bit. Oh wellÂ…
With the exception of the chocolate babies, you managed to get everything on Mrs. Gingerbread's shopping list. Your growling tummy quickens your footsteps back up the hill towards the warm little house where your adventures began. As you turn onto Tart Terrace, you notice the same two gingerbread children from earlier in the day hurling snowballs at each other under the tinsel-wrapped streetlamps.
Walking along, you pass tents with signs reading "Frosting and Other Hardware," "Doughy Delights" and finally, "Simply Sugar". Gumballs are mostly sugar, aren't they? You decide to give it a try.
Walking inside, you see all four walls lined with bin after bin of colorful sugary candy. The little child buried not too deeply inside you jumps for joy.
"Can I help you find anything, sweetie?" says a warm voice behind you. You turn around and find yourself face to face with a very round, very smiley, very doughy woman whose gumdrop buttons just barely hold her overstretched shirt together. A mass of yellow rock candy stuck to her head provides the one spiky element in her otherwise soft and buttery physique.
"Well," you say, looking down to consult your list, "I need two big blue gumballs."
The dough-lady titters a little as you say this. You wonder what's so funny.
"Over here, sugar," she says, her big round shoulders still shaking as she struggles to suppress her laughter.
She approaches a low bin in the corner and opens it, quickly pulling out two blue gumballs and placing them in a little plastic bag. You look suspiciously at the bag.
"Are those the biggest ones you have?" you ask.
"Honey," she says, "that's as big and blue as big blue gumballs come." This sentence seems to send her into a real fit of laughter. "I'm sorry," she gasps, struggling to regain her composure. "Let's see, let's see. That's ten sprinkles, please."
It seems you'll have to use Mrs. Gingerbread's good name as credit again.
"Well, I'm a foreigner," you begin.
"Yes I can see that clear as the rolls in my tummy!" she laughs loudly, with just the tiniest hint of a malicious gleam in her eyes. "But you still have to pay."
"You see, Mrs. Gingerbread sent me here without any sprinkles, but it seems that she's established store credit in the market," you tell the clerk as assertively as you can.
"Did you say Mrs. Gingerbread?" the woman asks slyly.
"Yes," you say hopefully.
"Well why didn't you say so? Hahaha! Mrs. Gingerbread! Mrs. Gingerbread! Aaaahahaha!" Her fat rolls jiggle and jive with her uproarious bellowing. She actually falls on the ground, rolling around in seething, hilarious ecstasy. You don't say another word, but leave the shop quickly. Leaving behind her boisterous guffaws, you think that maybe she should lay off the sugar a bit. Oh wellÂ…
With the exception of the chocolate babies, you managed to get everything on Mrs. Gingerbread's shopping list. Your growling tummy quickens your footsteps back up the hill towards the warm little house where your adventures began. As you turn onto Tart Terrace, you notice the same two gingerbread children from earlier in the day hurling snowballs at each other under the tinsel-wrapped streetlamps.