Hall of Infinite Doors
Outside, it is a glorious day. The snow is almost blindingly bright in the early morning light. You rub your tired eyes and inhale a deep breath of fresh air.
Suddenly, you feel a strange rumbling under your feet. Could it be an earthquake? Before you have time to duck for cover, your jaw drops at the sight of a huge person peering curiously down at Gingerbread Land from the heavens. His blue eyes twinkle mischievously as he surveys the scene. From somewhere even further away, a woman's voice booms,
"Look, honey, they've made the lake out of tinfoil. Isn't that clever?"
The behemoth little boy is now staring directly at you, not paying a wink of attention to any tinfoil lakes.
"Mmmmm," is all he says, his voice blowing through the air like a bad omen.
"Timmy, don't eat the display," the same invisible female voice commands.
"Ok, mom," he answers obediently, his fat cheeks bouncing up and down as he speaks. This is no Tiny Tim you're dealing with. He looks sneakily sideways, then, seeing that the coast is clear, smiles demonically at you.
A huge, grubby hand reaches slowly down, scooping you right out of Gingerbread land towards the gaping chasm of greedy little Timmy's wide-open mouth.
You can't help thinking that you'll make a funny-tasting gingerbread cookie. That should teach little Timmy to listen to his mommy in the future. Looking down, you say a silent farewell to Gingerbread Land, which sparkles far below with all the colors of the rainbow.
Moral of the story: Mother knows best!
Suddenly, you feel a strange rumbling under your feet. Could it be an earthquake? Before you have time to duck for cover, your jaw drops at the sight of a huge person peering curiously down at Gingerbread Land from the heavens. His blue eyes twinkle mischievously as he surveys the scene. From somewhere even further away, a woman's voice booms,
"Look, honey, they've made the lake out of tinfoil. Isn't that clever?"
The behemoth little boy is now staring directly at you, not paying a wink of attention to any tinfoil lakes.
"Mmmmm," is all he says, his voice blowing through the air like a bad omen.
"Timmy, don't eat the display," the same invisible female voice commands.
"Ok, mom," he answers obediently, his fat cheeks bouncing up and down as he speaks. This is no Tiny Tim you're dealing with. He looks sneakily sideways, then, seeing that the coast is clear, smiles demonically at you.
A huge, grubby hand reaches slowly down, scooping you right out of Gingerbread land towards the gaping chasm of greedy little Timmy's wide-open mouth.
You can't help thinking that you'll make a funny-tasting gingerbread cookie. That should teach little Timmy to listen to his mommy in the future. Looking down, you say a silent farewell to Gingerbread Land, which sparkles far below with all the colors of the rainbow.
Moral of the story: Mother knows best!
