Hall of Infinite Doors
Before the gingerbread man can respond, the door opens and a lovely gingerbread woman emerges, also wrapped in a towel, which you can now see is a flattened muffin cup.
"Oh honey, don't be such a brute!" she says teasingly to her husband. "Can't you tell this stranger at our door is a foreigner? You're not from Gingerbread Land, are you, sugarcake?" she says playfully, readjusting her towel so it sits a little lower on her crunchy brown chest.
"Nope, I'm definitely from a different place," you say, relieved to not have a Caramel '38 pointed at your head.
"Well, sugar," Mrs. Gingerbread goes on, sitting down on a candy-cane chair and pushing her towel up her corpulent legs, "I'm awfully embarrassed, but it seems that you caught me and my husband in the act of making gingerbread."
This is all very confusing, a confusion further blurred by your outrageous hunger. You blurt out,
"Is there any gingerbread left over that I might take a taste of?"
Mrs. Gingerbread looks shocked. In the corner of your eye, you see her husband's ginger fists clenching and some crumbs falling from his forehead. Strangely, you notice that the gumdrop under his towel seems to have fallen off as well.
Mrs. Gingerbread's expression softens and she smiles mischievously at you.
"Oh, is that what people in your country do? They eat their own gingerbread? HmmmÂ…Honey," she says, looking now at Mr. Gingerbread, "Maybe we could try that sometime too, for kicks."
He just stares back at her in a silent rage.
"You look a bit worn out," Mrs. Gingerbread continues. "Why don't you stay with us for a few days? We don't have many visitors, what with Mr. Gingerbread here being such a mighty grump!" Her musical laugh seems to fill the house with warmth and goodwill.
"Well, I do need a place to stay," you venture, not at all sure if this is a good idea.
"Of course you do, you poor little pumpkin pie! Now, Mr. Gingerbread and I really must finish our baking, but in the meantime, perhaps you could do us a little favor?"
"Sure," you say, just glad for the opportunity to escape for a while from all the strange goings-on in this house.
"Well, I need some ingredients from the market for tonight's dinner. You would be such a sweet little cherry if you would go out for me. If you don't want to go yourself, you can try to find our two little rascals tearing around on their new licorice bike. But that might be easier said than done!"
What should you do?
"Oh honey, don't be such a brute!" she says teasingly to her husband. "Can't you tell this stranger at our door is a foreigner? You're not from Gingerbread Land, are you, sugarcake?" she says playfully, readjusting her towel so it sits a little lower on her crunchy brown chest.
"Nope, I'm definitely from a different place," you say, relieved to not have a Caramel '38 pointed at your head.
"Well, sugar," Mrs. Gingerbread goes on, sitting down on a candy-cane chair and pushing her towel up her corpulent legs, "I'm awfully embarrassed, but it seems that you caught me and my husband in the act of making gingerbread."
This is all very confusing, a confusion further blurred by your outrageous hunger. You blurt out,
"Is there any gingerbread left over that I might take a taste of?"
Mrs. Gingerbread looks shocked. In the corner of your eye, you see her husband's ginger fists clenching and some crumbs falling from his forehead. Strangely, you notice that the gumdrop under his towel seems to have fallen off as well.
Mrs. Gingerbread's expression softens and she smiles mischievously at you.
"Oh, is that what people in your country do? They eat their own gingerbread? HmmmÂ…Honey," she says, looking now at Mr. Gingerbread, "Maybe we could try that sometime too, for kicks."
He just stares back at her in a silent rage.
"You look a bit worn out," Mrs. Gingerbread continues. "Why don't you stay with us for a few days? We don't have many visitors, what with Mr. Gingerbread here being such a mighty grump!" Her musical laugh seems to fill the house with warmth and goodwill.
"Well, I do need a place to stay," you venture, not at all sure if this is a good idea.
"Of course you do, you poor little pumpkin pie! Now, Mr. Gingerbread and I really must finish our baking, but in the meantime, perhaps you could do us a little favor?"
"Sure," you say, just glad for the opportunity to escape for a while from all the strange goings-on in this house.
"Well, I need some ingredients from the market for tonight's dinner. You would be such a sweet little cherry if you would go out for me. If you don't want to go yourself, you can try to find our two little rascals tearing around on their new licorice bike. But that might be easier said than done!"
What should you do?