While exploring ancient ruins outside of Whitehorse, New Mexico, I looked into an old sweathouse and there he was a gingerbread man the size of a roadkilled kitty-cat. Needless to say, as I turned he jumped on my back, as gingerbread men are known to do .He immediately went for my neck-mole, biting at it wholeheartedly. Well, to make a long story longer, I wrenched him from my neck, tore his little gingerbread head off, and put him in my lunch bag to eat later. THE END

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