I came in early this morning. I had to put the finishing touches to the gingerbread houses. Townhouses they were. All lined up in a nice row. There was snow, and an icy blue lake. There were firs nicely weighted down with new-fallen snow. Just a little bit more and . . .
What? What's that? I hurried over to the table where the display sat, and . . . Oh, my! There was something climbing through a window! I took a step closer and . . . Why, it's a gingerbread man! He slipped on the window ledge and fell on his . . . " Who are you? Where are you from?" I couldn't believe what I saw. Then it groaned, and got up, and rubbed it's little gingerbread butt.
"Oh! What?" He looked at me, and replied, "I'm on my way out! No need to shout." Then he turned to flee! His groan became a giggle, as I gave chase. He hustled with haste, and around the table legs we ran a merry race. "Stop!" I gasped, and hollered with glee. My shouts made him run faster, and farther from me.
I rounded the corner, tripped on my shoe laces. I slid to a halt as I passed the ovens. Slower and quite winded, I tried to follow his white icing footprints, and traces of powdered sugar, but by the time I reached the doorway, he wasn't there. Lo! I heard him exclaim, as he dove out of sight, "Run, run as fast as you can! You can't catch me I'm the Gingerbread Man!"
P.S. Okay, the postcard I mailed is shorter and a little different, but the story is true. I have evidence. See where he crashed into the fir just outside the window? And there's this . . .
He was there to see his mom and dad.
I made a quick little stamp, just for giggles.