I moved the gingerbread house out to the patio as I was cleaning, and forgot to take it to the trash. Then, I heard a loud sawing noise from outside.
Pardon the dirty windows in the photos, it has been a long winter.
"Oh hey, what's this? A little house? For me? Hey...that smells tasty."
"What thoughtful humans. I mean, I appreciate the occasional handful of raisins, but I really wasn't expecting a house. Really, that's just swell."
"Oh my god...the house is made of food! This is the best day of my entire life!"
"I sure as hell hope there isn't a witch in there."
"OK Blondin, don't make a pig of yourself and eat it all in one sitting-remember what happened that time with the smashed pumpkin next door. That was awful, I was shitting orange for weeks."
"Oh my god, is that lemon zest, and freshly grated nutmeg?! These people are incredible. I've had those gingerbread houses people bake from kits, and let me tell you, I can sharpen the hell out of my teeth on them, but they taste terrible. All that cheap cinnamon. This? This is fucking delicious."
"I don't ever want this day to end. Maybe I better save some for later."
That was about 30 minutes of work, gnawing through hard gingerbread. Let that be a warning, lest you're tempted to hand-feed a squirrel-their little teeth are sharp!
"Now, to find some antacids."