Photo by Alexander Andrews on Unsplash A brisk breeze containing an aura of pine navigated its way to a log cabin. On the stoop of this cabin was a brown, faux fur, barrel chair. Atop this chair sat a red fox.
“Greetings,” the fox started in a silvery tone, “My name is Douglas. Yes, as in the evergreen tree. I believe you already know of me but of a different title. I am one of the characters from a common children's story most of you have heard of, The Gingerbread Man. It holds many faces including a gingerbread man, others, and myself, the handsome fox, who as the story goes is supposedly wily.” Douglas’s silvery tone suddenly quit at the word who and turned taut. His silvery tone immediately drowned out the taut tone as he continued, “The tale you have heard for years is mostly made up of, lies!” This taut tone must have fought hard, for it went off like fireworks at the word lies, before again being crushed by the silvery tone. “Ahem, where was I before the narrator so rudely interrupted? Ah yes, I shall tell you my side of this story, the true story of what happened to the gingerbread man.
“It was back on a sunny spring day. The flowers were in full bloom, birds singing their hearts out, blasting your ears to pieces as they sang over each other. It was an average day in spring.
“As you know, the old lady was bored, so she decided to bake. To amuse her husband, she made her gingerbread in the shape of a man. Just as she opened the oven, he jumped out, sprang through the window, and was down the street in a flash!
“While he dashed from the old lady, he sang out, ‘Run, run as fast as you can, you can’t catch me, I’m the Gingerbread Man!’ If you don’t mind, which if you do I don’t care, he was quite the braggy little fellow. Don’t you agree?
“Chugging along after that, by the time he was tired of fleeing like a coward, he had quite the mob chasing him. But, alas for the group and yippy for the Gingerbread Man's sake, no one could catch him. Not the old man or old woman, cow nor horse, neither chicken nor pig with piglets could catch that quick little Gingerbread Man.
“During his flight, he, whenever someone new joined the procession, would sing out his main line, ‘Run, run as fast as you can, you can’t catch me, I am the Gingerbread Man!’
“After losing the group, the Gingerbread Man came to a river with a fair current. The other side held a great wood containing many pines, willows, and oaks. He wished to cross the river, but he could not for he would get wet and become soggy. I knew the Gingerbread Man’s predicament both with the mob and the river, so I decided to help the poor guy out.
“‘My name is Douglas,’ I called to him. ‘I can ferry you across the river.’
“‘Of course, you helping fellow want to ferry me. No, you just want to eat me for dinner like the rest, Fox!’ exclaimed the Gingerbread Man in a sarcastic tone to start, ending in resentment.
“‘Eat you for dinner? Ha! You aren’t enough for a meal. Even if you were, I couldn’t eat you. I am allergic to ginger and will have a bad reaction! Do you want help crossing or not?’ I replied.
“‘I do want the help, but what do you want in return?’ declared the Gingerbread Man.
"‘I will tell you that when we get to the other side. Get on my back!’ I commanded. The reason I would tell him on the other side, for your information, is I wanted to help him for free, but he might not accept it for that price.
“After swimming half the way across, the Gingerbread Man’s placement started hurting my back. If you don’t believe me, how about you carry a man made of gingerbread on your back, who took up a fifth of it, while swimming across a river with a strong current. He was also slightly burnt, so he was very bony.
“‘Could you move to my neck please?’ I called over the river’s flow. The Gingerbread Man kindly obliged, but after a little more swimming, my neck cramped up, so I asked him, ‘Could you move to my muzzle?’
“‘Is this better?’ he asked when he had arrived there.
“‘Much,’ was my reply.
“Just as I got to the opposing bank, I slipped on the mossy rocks and almost went under, instinctively throwing my head up and taking a gulp of air. When I did this, The Gingerbread Man fell in. It was horrible! I almost choked.
“I myself had to flee into the woods after Alfred, the very annoying, nosy duck, saw it all and told everyone. The town still to this day tries to hunt me down for not sharing the Gingerbread Man! Alfred didn’t hear and see everything, but instead just filled in the holes with assumptions! The allergic reaction to the ginger happened when I was hiding in the woods and was dreadful. I built this cabin out in these woods, on the far side of the river, staying here ever since. I must disguise myself every time I go into town. It's atrocious! Now that you know the true story, can you please get my lawyer? If nothing else, tell people what really happened!”
“Greetings,” the fox started in a silvery tone, “My name is Douglas. Yes, as in the evergreen tree. I believe you already know of me but of a different title. I am one of the characters from a common children's story most of you have heard of, The Gingerbread Man. It holds many faces including a gingerbread man, others, and myself, the handsome fox, who as the story goes is supposedly wily.” Douglas’s silvery tone suddenly quit at the word who and turned taut. His silvery tone immediately drowned out the taut tone as he continued, “The tale you have heard for years is mostly made up of, lies!” This taut tone must have fought hard, for it went off like fireworks at the word lies, before again being crushed by the silvery tone. “Ahem, where was I before the narrator so rudely interrupted? Ah yes, I shall tell you my side of this story, the true story of what happened to the gingerbread man.
“It was back on a sunny spring day. The flowers were in full bloom, birds singing their hearts out, blasting your ears to pieces as they sang over each other. It was an average day in spring.
“As you know, the old lady was bored, so she decided to bake. To amuse her husband, she made her gingerbread in the shape of a man. Just as she opened the oven, he jumped out, sprang through the window, and was down the street in a flash!
“While he dashed from the old lady, he sang out, ‘Run, run as fast as you can, you can’t catch me, I’m the Gingerbread Man!’ If you don’t mind, which if you do I don’t care, he was quite the braggy little fellow. Don’t you agree?
“Chugging along after that, by the time he was tired of fleeing like a coward, he had quite the mob chasing him. But, alas for the group and yippy for the Gingerbread Man's sake, no one could catch him. Not the old man or old woman, cow nor horse, neither chicken nor pig with piglets could catch that quick little Gingerbread Man.
“During his flight, he, whenever someone new joined the procession, would sing out his main line, ‘Run, run as fast as you can, you can’t catch me, I am the Gingerbread Man!’
“After losing the group, the Gingerbread Man came to a river with a fair current. The other side held a great wood containing many pines, willows, and oaks. He wished to cross the river, but he could not for he would get wet and become soggy. I knew the Gingerbread Man’s predicament both with the mob and the river, so I decided to help the poor guy out.
“‘My name is Douglas,’ I called to him. ‘I can ferry you across the river.’
“‘Of course, you helping fellow want to ferry me. No, you just want to eat me for dinner like the rest, Fox!’ exclaimed the Gingerbread Man in a sarcastic tone to start, ending in resentment.
“‘Eat you for dinner? Ha! You aren’t enough for a meal. Even if you were, I couldn’t eat you. I am allergic to ginger and will have a bad reaction! Do you want help crossing or not?’ I replied.
“‘I do want the help, but what do you want in return?’ declared the Gingerbread Man.
"‘I will tell you that when we get to the other side. Get on my back!’ I commanded. The reason I would tell him on the other side, for your information, is I wanted to help him for free, but he might not accept it for that price.
“After swimming half the way across, the Gingerbread Man’s placement started hurting my back. If you don’t believe me, how about you carry a man made of gingerbread on your back, who took up a fifth of it, while swimming across a river with a strong current. He was also slightly burnt, so he was very bony.
“‘Could you move to my neck please?’ I called over the river’s flow. The Gingerbread Man kindly obliged, but after a little more swimming, my neck cramped up, so I asked him, ‘Could you move to my muzzle?’
“‘Is this better?’ he asked when he had arrived there.
“‘Much,’ was my reply.
“Just as I got to the opposing bank, I slipped on the mossy rocks and almost went under, instinctively throwing my head up and taking a gulp of air. When I did this, The Gingerbread Man fell in. It was horrible! I almost choked.
“I myself had to flee into the woods after Alfred, the very annoying, nosy duck, saw it all and told everyone. The town still to this day tries to hunt me down for not sharing the Gingerbread Man! Alfred didn’t hear and see everything, but instead just filled in the holes with assumptions! The allergic reaction to the ginger happened when I was hiding in the woods and was dreadful. I built this cabin out in these woods, on the far side of the river, staying here ever since. I must disguise myself every time I go into town. It's atrocious! Now that you know the true story, can you please get my lawyer? If nothing else, tell people what really happened!”
RSS Feed
