Now, my dear readers, as much as it may shock to be told, Grandma Gowdie's days are not always filled with foiled plans of lecherous wolves and hapless girls. It is possible that, on occasion, she may endeavour herself upon the more trite yet equally pleasurable duties of a nurturing Grandma.

It had been on one of these enlighteningly gentle days that Grandma Gowdie took it upon herself to make cookies for a nearby village. After spending the morning chopping and sifting the ingredients in the sweltering kitchen, the elderly woman was tired. She needed to lie down, but the oven was already hot, and the recipe already sorted.

A nap would do just right, and she remembered that now she had two perfect small green assistants who could finish the task for her. All her little goblin apprentices were left with was to mix the ingredients and place them in the oven. She looked over all her work to ensure that everything was orderly for her simple servants when she noticed that one component was still missing. She gave each goblin a cup and said, "Go to the storage shed and, from a new bag of flour, place two cupfuls in the bowl for mixing."

Graceless, the older of the goblins and the lazier of the two whined. "Why do we need to go all the way out to the shed when you have perfectly good flour here?"

Grandma Gowdie smiled at her ever-curious servants. "The flour here will not do for cookies as special as these. Now off you two, for I am old and need rest." The goblins nodded in agreement and promptly scampered off.

The two goblins crossed the old Gowdie family cemetery to find the storage shed on the other side. Within the shed were all kinds of clay crockery, sealed jars, strange glass vials, gathered herbs, and extra cookware, particularly cauldrons. More interestingly, for the focused goblins were four black sacks, each with an eight-seeded circle on it—clearly a mark for flour if they had ever seen one. They eagerly ripped open a bag and scooped their cups full.

Graceless laughed mockingly at her little brother. "Look at your tiny cupful of musty flour. Grandma will be oh so much more pleased with the great flour that I bring."

Handful sneered at his prideful sister. "My cupful is just as large as yours, and at least mine does not clump or grey like your stale flour does."

Graceless growled back to her defiant brother. "You are just jealous of my obvious superiority. I pick flour better than you, and I fight fiercer than you. I am the firstborn because I am always first. Look now, little brother, how I run faster than you." Graceless sprinted out of the shed.

It was only a moment before Handful shrieked back. "No, you can't!" and chased after his sister. They began running faster and faster through the cemetery until, neck and neck, one tripped over the other, spilling their cups.

Handful spat at his sister, "Now look, you ruined Grandma's flour."

"No worries." Graceless consoled as she shovelled what flour she could back into their cups. When they found their cupfuls short, she topped them with some rich cemetery dirt and proclaimed, "It will add a nice earthy flavour." They returned to Grandma Gowdie's hut, mixed the ingredients thoroughly as Grandma taught them, and placed the gingery sweet and slightly muddy mix in the oven. The two then went outside to play their favourite game, frog hopping.

After a short while of looking for frogs and jumping on them, the two goblins heard a crash from within the hut. They ran inside to find the table had been knocked over, the chairs upturned, and the oven open and empty. The only sound in the small hut was the snores of Grandma Gowdie in her bed chamber. Their ginger dough was gone!

Now say what you want about goblins, dear reader; they may be diminutive, diabolical, and daft, but they are distinguished trackers. Finding their fugitive would be easy with their long, crooked noses following the scent of ginger and molasses.

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Down in the village, the people were preparing for a festival, of which Grandma Gowdie's baking was always welcomed. A little boy was playing in his back garden when he heard a rustling in the bushes. The boy peered through the shrubbery; inside, there was a muddy black and brown ball smelling of molasses. The boy thought he had found a wonderful festival treat when two black beady eyes formed on the ball along with a broad smiling mouth that sang, "Run, Run, as fast as you can, or I'll make you the gingerbread man." Before the boy could shriek or dart away, the smiling mouth of the ball opened up and swallowed him whole.

The mama of the village was placing a banner on her front gate when a noise behind caught her attention. She turned around and beheld the strangest sight. There was her boy standing before her, but he was covered entirely in black and brown mud. Instead of his wistful blue eyes and cheerful little mouth, he had two beady black eyes and a broad grin smelling sweetly. The muddy boy chanted with a childish chirp, "Run, Run, as fast as you can, or I'll make you the gingerbread man." Before the mother could let out a scream, the boy's mouth opened up and swallowed her whole.

Now, the Papa of the village was down at the stage hanging up ropes and streamers for the festival when he heard a thump below. He looked under the stage to shoo away what must be the village dog, but instead of the dog, four beady black eyes looked back at him. Out from the stage, crawling on four legs and four arms, emerged two muddy black and brown heads looking like his little boy and wife. Each head had a broad smile, and in a grinning chorus, they sang, "Run, Run, as fast as you can, or we'll make you the gingerbread man." The man swung at the demon dough with his hammer, but its mouths opened up and swallowed him whole.

Three grass cutters working on the village fairgrounds watched in horror as the muddy mama and boy abomination engulfed Papa.

Muffled cries for help emanated from inside the sweet-smelling monster as fists and feet bulged out of it. The workers watched the scene unfold in petrified horror. After the pleas went silent, and the struggling went still, a third head with beady eyes popped out of the doughy family amalgam and locked onto the three men.

"Run, Run, as fast as you can, or we'll make you the gingerbread man." The three grass cutters took off in terror, but with six feet, the ginger horror caught them quickly and swallowed each one whole without missing a step.

By now, dear readers, our goblin pair had made their way to the village and saw their fugitive baking running amok. The sister, Graceless, took a dropped sickle from the ground and began hacking away the limbs of their terrible creation. She managed to chop away two hands and a leg before the monster caught her and swallowed her whole. One would think that would be the end of her, but this goblin wasn't called ǀmoinlyns' by her kin for nothing. The slippery and wily cretin dug her way out of the delicious dough, gnashing and biting her way through to hack off another limb before the gingerbread fiend could swallow her again.

Meanwhile, Handful gathered some nooses from the stage and loosed them around the gingerbread heads. He tied the other end of the ropes to the winch of the village well and began winding the monstrosity in. The sister popped in and out of the tasty, muddy body, laughing maniacally, with butter and sugar on her lips. At the same time, she hacked at its feet to keep it off balance. The brother pulled the sumptuous golem into the well, where it fell with a neck-wrenching snap, popping off the beady-eyed heads. The delicious mess fell into the water with a great splash, and six sticky heads bobbed to the surface with wicked grins dissolving into mush. Graceless, covered in mud and molasses, climbed out of the well and scolded her brother. "I didn't need your help. I would have chopped it to bits eventually."

The brother and sister looked over the bits she chopped and were startled to see the limbs crawling away. Graceless shrugged, "Well, maybe not." They left the sweet appendages be and scooped up the soggy remains of their gingerbread mud-fiend. Fortunately, they found a cart filled with ropes and grass tools, needless things now. They cleared the cart, tossed in their wet dough, and then dragged it back to Grandma Gowdie's hut.

It was late afternoon by the time Grandma Gowdie awoke. She had slept much longer than she wanted and was very groggy. She was quickly refreshed with the smell of molasses and ginger wafting through her hut. Looking into her kitchen, she found Handful and Graceless sitting at the table with a giant plate bearing six baked gingerbread men. Grandma Gowdie bit into a cookie, and her eyes widened with delight. They were the most uniquely delicious cookies she ever had. She hummed in satisfaction, "Mmmmh. Did you follow my instructions exactly?"

The goblins snickered, and Graceless replied, "We only added a little goblin ingenuity to the mix."

Grandma Gowdie was very impressed, but after just a few bites, she was stuffed full. "Maybe they have a little too much body. I have just the recipe I could render these down for."