A Week of Secundus Christmas, Day Four: Gingerbread
Let's get one thing out of the way right now -- yes, this was inspired by Shrek 2. I was trying to think of things that reminded me of Christmas, and -- well, Mom and I had constructed a gingerbread house recently at the time. . . This immediately led to the idea of the rampaging giant cookie as in Shrek 2, because -- well, it's Secundus. This is almost normal. The rest just flowed from there.
The one main in-joke (besides this whole thing being pulled from a Dreamworks movie) is the mention of the sandwich Helen made Dave -- that's actually something that happened in one of the Narbonic books' bonus stories. In that case, though, it was modern-day Helen and Dave, and Dave stopped it on his own (Mell doesn't actually show up in the story at all -- weird). I just thought it was funny and threw it in.
The one main in-joke (besides this whole thing being pulled from a Dreamworks movie) is the mention of the sandwich Helen made Dave -- that's actually something that happened in one of the Narbonic books' bonus stories. In that case, though, it was modern-day Helen and Dave, and Dave stopped it on his own (Mell doesn't actually show up in the story at all -- weird). I just thought it was funny and threw it in.
“Mmm! This is very good!”
Victor took another bite of the hunk of gingerbread. “You have to say, whoever baked this knew how to make an excellent gingerbread,” he continued.
“You do,” Sir Christopher nodded, sampling his own piece. “It’s a pity they chose to bake it into a gigantic rampaging cookie monster.”
“Do we have any idea who did it?” Victoria commented, gathering up more gingerbread from the ground.
“Not yet, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” Doc said, helping her. “I’d offer up Helen Narbon as a suspect if I didn’t already know she’s a rather bad cook.”
“How do you know?” Emily asked, picking up a large raisin that had previously served as an eye.
“We’ve seen what she considers to be a casserole when she invited some of her colleagues on a picnic,” Marty said, nibbling on a giant gumdrop. “Plus her math guy, Dave, told us about the time she made him a sandwich. It took three of Mell’s grenades to stop it and its offspring.”
“Off– actually, no, I don’t want to know.” Emily looked at Alice, who was still holding the smoking blunderbuss. “Good thing we were all walking down the street when it came by, hmm?”
“I suppose,” Alice said, just a touch too loudly. She rubbed an ear. “Shooting cookies wasn’t exactly on my list of things to do today.”
“In my opinion, it deserved it,” Richard said, licking frosting off his hat. “The instant it announced its presence with ‘Run run run as fast you can. . . .’”
Victor took another bite of the hunk of gingerbread. “You have to say, whoever baked this knew how to make an excellent gingerbread,” he continued.
“You do,” Sir Christopher nodded, sampling his own piece. “It’s a pity they chose to bake it into a gigantic rampaging cookie monster.”
“Do we have any idea who did it?” Victoria commented, gathering up more gingerbread from the ground.
“Not yet, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” Doc said, helping her. “I’d offer up Helen Narbon as a suspect if I didn’t already know she’s a rather bad cook.”
“How do you know?” Emily asked, picking up a large raisin that had previously served as an eye.
“We’ve seen what she considers to be a casserole when she invited some of her colleagues on a picnic,” Marty said, nibbling on a giant gumdrop. “Plus her math guy, Dave, told us about the time she made him a sandwich. It took three of Mell’s grenades to stop it and its offspring.”
“Off– actually, no, I don’t want to know.” Emily looked at Alice, who was still holding the smoking blunderbuss. “Good thing we were all walking down the street when it came by, hmm?”
“I suppose,” Alice said, just a touch too loudly. She rubbed an ear. “Shooting cookies wasn’t exactly on my list of things to do today.”
“In my opinion, it deserved it,” Richard said, licking frosting off his hat. “The instant it announced its presence with ‘Run run run as fast you can. . . .’”