Two kids, Hansel and Gretel, got lost in the woods, stumbled upon my charming gingerbread house, and then, BAM! I’m the “evil old witch” who wanted to fatten them up and turn them into snacks. Well, let me tell you, that’s only half the story, and I’m here to set the record straight.

First off, let me introduce myself, my name’s Wanda, not “Witch,” okay? I’m just a woman who enjoys her privacy and has a hobby for baking, but suddenly, I’m being dragged into this child-eating scandal? Excuse me, I’m a foodie, not a monster! My house is made of gingerbread because, let’s face it, it’s practical and delicious. What’s wrong with wanting to live in a house that doubles as dessert?

One day, I was minding my own business, whipping up a batch of chocolate-dipped pretzels (because even witches need snacks, okay?), when I heard this crunching sound outside. I walked out, and what did I see? Two kids gnawing on my house like it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet. Hansel’s munching on the windowsill, and Gretel’s going to town on my gumdrop doorknob. Now, I didn’t spend hours perfecting my gingerbread walls just for some random kids to show up and treat it like a snack shack!

I went outside, all polite, and asked, “Excuse me, do you mind?” But did they stop? Nope. They kept chomping like my house is the Costco of candy. I’m standing there thinking, “Do these kids even know about personal property?” I’m a witch, not a fast-food joint!

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So, naturally, I invited them inside. What? Was I supposed to call the cops? I’m trying to be hospitable, offer them some real food instead of having them nibble on my front porch. But the second I opened the door, they were looking at me like I’m about to serve them with a side of fries. I’m over here being all gracious, offering them a lovely meal of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and my famous apple pie, but they were acting like I’m setting a trap.

And sure, maybe I mentioned something about fattening them up, but listen, it’s not like I’m a nutritionist. These kids clearly haven’t had a decent meal in weeks. Have you seen them? They’re skinny as twigs! I’m just trying to help out, but noooo, they’re all suspicious like I’ve got some hidden agenda. Please. The only thing I care about is making sure they don’t eat me out of house and home—literally.

Then comes the oven situation. Let me clear this up: I wasn’t planning on roasting Hansel like a Thanksgiving turkey. That was a misunderstanding. I was merely asking Gretel to help me get the oven ready because it’s old, and I needed someone to hold the door open while I cleaned it. But no, she took it as, “Oh, the witch is going to cook my brother!” Next thing I know, she’s shoving me into the oven like I’m a batch of undercooked cookies!

Do you know how humiliating it is to be outwitted by a kid who just spent the last hour chewing on your front door? Let’s just say, that oven was a little too warm for comfort. Thankfully, my magic kicked in just in time, and I managed to get out of there before turning into toast.

And then, what did these kids do? They stole all my candy, grabbed the valuables, and ran off to tell everyone how they “defeated the evil witch.” Excuse me, but who’s the real criminal here? They broke into my house, destroyed my property, tried to cook me, and now they’re out there acting like heroes? Honestly, I should’ve called my lawyer.

The real moral of the story? If you’re going to wander around in the woods, don’t eat random houses. And don’t assume every woman who lives alone in a gingerbread cottage is out to get you. Some of us just really like baking.

The end.