Short Story preview: Sugar Man
The Sugar Man was afraid of sugar mice, unlike the Gingerbread Man. Gingerbread was a moody so and so who strode up and down the bakery counter at night telling the chocolate éclairs where to get off and occasionally giving the jam doughnuts a good kicking with his rounded brown foot; his Smartie eyes gleaming like shiny blue coins at the bottom of a dusty fountain.
On this particular night, Gingerbread was in an unusually foul mood. He had lost a few crumbs from his forehead during the day as the tongs of freedom had brushed perilously close to him around lunchtime, only to pick up that stupid Custard Slice. Good bloody riddance to that slimy yellow sod and his sticky white jumper with those stupid wavy brown lines. Hope all his custard gloops out onto the floor at the first bite, Gingerbread thought maliciously. He had been so close to being sold; then he could get the hell out of here. His orange rind smile belied the anger within his crisp body.
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