I wrote this three years ago: just a nice snippet of writing from the past. Enjoy.
The Gingerbread Man
Part One
Once upon a time, far away in the celestial nothingness that is “space”, a droid and his aluminium wife ran a famous cosmic bakery. It sold cakes and sweets for all tongues and tastes, including Mars-ipan rats, run-of-the-mill cookies – one variety for robots, the other for humans like you – and average loaves of bread (butter not included).
Sick and tired of making miniscule profits, the couple took the astonishing decision of adding a new biscuit to the menu. Months of planning were dedicated to the product launch. When the day finally dawned, a huge marquee was set up in front of the shop’s façade. Reporters from Reuters, the galaxised news company, Hello magazine, and representatives of broadsheets and tabloids from every corner of hyperspace arrived in huge limo-shuttles. A shining, shimmering, sparkling chrome oven stood gleaming on a glass table.
“Welcome, fellow interplanetary consumers, to the most momentous occasion in the history of – well, momentous occasions!” the droid host announced. “Today, you will witness the creation of the most sumptuous, splendid, spectacular confection known to man and robot – the gingerbread man!”
The crowd gasped.
“And now, our special guest stars, R2D2 and C3PO, will step forward to first taste this extraordinary invention. Will you please welcome – R2D2 and C3PO!”
The assembled audience broke into rapturous applause. The two celebrities travelled down the red carpet that ran down the middle of the crowd, with R2D2 gliding swiftly in front of his companion, who was walking in rather stilted fashion. Even though the man-made machines were not accustomed to the wheat-laden consumables that made up an entire industry, they participated in the event anyway, so they could tell their families they went to the party all because of a six-inch-long biscuit. A reporter from “Lifestyles of The Rich And Alien” attempted to interview the two stars, but failed miserably.
At last, the golden moment arrived. Everyone stood in uneasy anticipation. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Then, as the timer pinged, the oven door hissed open, and in a billow of mist, the vertically challenged biscuit called the gingerbread man materialised, lying on a wire tray. Slowly but surely, much to the couple’s dismay, it stood itself up, in a way much akin to how a string puppet is pulled into position. The audience’s faces were suitably shocked.
Part Two
“Send him to the gallows!” they cried.
“Run, run, as fast as you can! You can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man!” the outlaw shouted in response.
At once, he jumped into a wagon, and drove away, with a trail of dust flying after him. The man and his wife hurried into their wagon in hot pursuit.
It was not easy to capture such a diminutive creature. Headed in a north by northwest direction, the chase took the biscuit to a train station, where he intended to catch the next express to San Francisco. However, his size came with its inconveniences too. He had to ask for a leg up to converse with the assistant on the other side of the window, so he could purchase his pass. And the man was not about to give up a seemingly just cause. His watchful eyes scanned every inch of the terminal, although the huge crowds mostly obscured his field of vision.
Time passed slowly. Every trick the man could think of – playing mental noughts and crosses in his head, daydreaming about a trip to Hawaii, counting sheep, seeing himself murder this vile and wretched creature – had not succeeded. It was only when he made up his mind to go to the toilet that he had his first near miss encounter with his target.
He paid the attendant 20 cents to get in, and took his place at the urinal. Before long, there was the unmistakeable “Can I have a leg up, please?” At first, he thought it was some child. But surely no child was six inches tall?
Suddenly, he saw him. The biscuit leaped over the turnstile, with the man giving chase.
“I’m going to eat you!” he cried.
“Run, run as fast as you can,” shouted the gingerbread man, “you can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man!”
They barged their way through immense crowds of gasping and shrieking people, to the San Francisco express, which was just about to depart.
“All aboard!” the driver announced.
The game of hide and seek continued throughout the train journey, with the biscuit even sharing a shower with a woman at one point, much to the man’s embarrassment. Even so, he felt the encounter was a good enough reason to divorce with his long-suffering wife.
Part Three
The gingerbread man arrived at Camelot station without much hassle, seeing as his mental capacity told him he could slip through tiny cracks here and there. He hailed a horse-drawn taxi to Merlin’s house, and asked for his advice on how to overcome the problem of his pursuer.
“Well,” the wizard said thoughtfully, “I suggest you try my MDP spell.”
“What’s MDP?” asked the ginger biscuit inquisitively.
“MDP stands for Multi Directional Persona. Basically, if your chaser asks about where you might be, whoever replies will say you’ve gone off in a different direction to where you’re actually going. Bit like having a double, to distract anyone.”
The biscuit was sure this incantation was the one he needed. “Please may I have that one, then?”
“Certainly,” the magician replied. “Just wait here.”
Soon after, Merlin was back with the spell instructions. They told the gingerbread man to chant “Abracadabra! Havakabye! Make my double materialise!” twice, which he did so. Immediately, he saw an identical version of him beside himself, which soon went off in its own direction.
“There!” Merlin said. “Your double is now free to distract anyone it sees!”
“Thank you, Merlin.”
“No worries!”
The gingerbread man boarded another taxi that took him to the New New North Star, a public house “licensed to vend alcoholic liqueurs, which may be consumed solely on the premises (or else!)”. He ordered a pint of Guinness there, and while waiting for his coronation chicken to arrive, soon noticed a ‘WANTED’ poster pinned up behind a table occupied by a bunch of youths.
Upon closer examination, the biscuit was horrified to discover Merlin the Magician was really Merlin the Murderer (who posed as the Magician). He had an uncanny knack for “choosing victims with afflictions”, including a woman who had recently received groundbreaking IVF treatment. Camelot residents were urged to stay away from this merciless killer, and to report any sightings to the S.W.A.T. team as soon as possible.
Unbeknownst to the poor gingerbread man, one of Merlin’s top agents, The Fox, had been dispatched to dispose of the diminutive biscuit (who only agreed because he would receive double his usual meat intake if he accepted). He sat down at the counter and ordered a smoothie, while searching the building with his specially trained eye for any sign of the bakery confection. And sure enough, he was spotted socialising with the Three Little Pigs from the next town, Excalibur.
He crept surreptitiously up to his target, bent on completely destroying it. (He followed his master’s instructions to the letter.) Fortunately, the biscuit caught sight of him just as he homed in on his prey. Mayhem ensued.
The gingerbread man’s excellent karate training meant he easily overcame the Fox (who died heroically, according to Merlin). However, he was arrested by S.W.A.T. members, but was subsequently found not guilty of manslaughter at his trial. And he lived happily ever after.
