THE GINGERBREAD WITCH - A fairy tale for the ones who wouldn't be eaten

THE GINGERBREAD WITCH

A fairy tale for the ones who wouldn't be eaten

I. THE HOUSE

Deep in the woods of a country that was built on a picture,

there is a house made of candy and a fence made of bone.

The house has a porch and the porch has a swing and the swing has a sign

and the sign says WELCOME, CHILDREN.

And the children come because they are lost and they are hungry

and the house smells like vanilla and safety and 1955.

And the witch is not ugly.

That is the first lie they tell you about witches.

The witch is pleasant.

The witch has an apron.

The witch says come in, dear, you look so thin.

II. THE RECIPE

And the witch has a recipe, and the recipe is old,

and the recipe was written in a year that ends in 5

and revised twice and never questioned.

The recipe says:

Take one child.

Remove the parts that do not fit the picture—

the wrong kind of love, the wrong kind of question,

the wrong kind of God, the wrong kind of grief,

the wrong kind of fire in the wrong kind of eyes.

Roll flat. Press down. Cut the shape.

The shape is always the same shape.

The shape is one man, one wife, one dog, one door,

one God on the coin, one flag on the lawn,

one silence at the dinner table where the name is not said out loud.

Bake until compliant.

Cool on a rack.

III. THE CUTTER

And the cutter is the thing the witch loves most.

Not the oven. The oven is just heat.

Not the frosting. The frosting is just sugar.

The cutter is the law.

The cutter is the form with the box and the seal.

The cutter is the diagnosis in the medical book.

The cutter is the whisper in the file that says concern noted.

The cutter is the performance review that says difficulty with collaboration.

The cutter is the segment that cuts to the face at the exact moment the answer is too good.

And the cutter does not hate you.

The cutter has never met you.

The cutter is a shape, and the shape is the shape,

and the shape is the shape because the shape is the shape.

IV. THE FROSTING

And when the boy comes out of the oven, the witch does the white frosting.

The white frosting covers the cracks.

The white frosting covers the face that was his face.

The white frosting covers the parts where the fire was.

And the powdered sugar is the special part.

The powdered sugar is the part the witch is proudest of.

The powdered sugar is the medicine that makes him calm.

The powdered sugar is the powder in the bag on the corner.

The powdered sugar is the pill in the paper cup in the room with the number on the door.

The powdered sugar is the there, there and the it's for your own good

and the we only want what's best

and the don't make it weird, sweetheart.

And the boy is white and soft and sweet and smiling

and he does not remember what he was before the cutter

and he does not remember the fire

and he does not remember the animals

because the animals do not recognize him anymore.

V. THE GIRL

And there is a girl, and the girl is chubby and blonde and pink

and the girl is the customer.

The girl lives in the house and the house is made of candy

and the girl has never once been hungry in her life

and the girl has never once been afraid in her life

and the girl has never once been in a room with a number on the door.

The girl comes to the counter and the witch smiles and the girl says

give me a gingerbread boy.

And she bites the head off first.

And she laughs.

And the laugh is the laugh of a girl who has never had to wonder

whose face was under the frosting.

And she loves the gingerbread boys.

She loves them the way you love a thing that was made for you.

She loves them the way you love a thing that cannot say no.

VI. THE TWINKIES

And the girl's favorite is the Twinkie.

The Twinkie is the gingerbread man with the frosting on the inside.

The Twinkie is the same shape as all the other Twinkies.

The Twinkie is shelf-stable and it is uniform and it will outlive you.

The Twinkie is the perfect food for a country that has decided

that the picture on the wall is worth more than the people in the yard.

And the girl eats the Twinkies and she eats the gingerbread boys

and she never once thinks about the oven

and she never once thinks about the fire

and she never once thinks about the animals

and she never once thinks about the boy

because the boy was made for her

and the boy was made to be eaten

and the boy was made to be forgotten

and the boy was made.

VII. THE FACTORY

And here is the part the fairy tale always leaves out:

The witch has a factory.

The witch does not do it alone.

The witch has a staff and the staff has a shift and the shift has a quota

and the quota has a number and the number came down from above.

The witch has a procurement office and the procurement office buys the ovens.

The witch has a legal department and the legal department writes the recipe.

The witch has a public relations firm and the firm writes the story

in which the factory is a home

and the oven is a hearth

and the cutter is a kindness.

And the witch goes home at five.

And the witch has a lawn.

And the witch has a sprinkler.

And the witch has a door that locks from the inside.

And the witch sleeps just fine.

VIII. THE ONES WHO WOULD NOT

But there were two boys once,

and I have to tell you about them,

because the fairy tale is not finished until you know about the two boys.

They came to the house.

They were lost and they were hungry and the house smelled like vanilla.

And the witch said come in, dears, you look so thin,

and she put them in the oven,

and the oven was hot and the heat was the heat of the year 1955.

And when the timer went off,

the boys were not cookies.

They came out with their faces on.

They came out with the fire in their hands.

They came out with the names of the animals in their mouths

and the old stone altar burning behind their eyes

and the cutter was still in the witch's hand but the cutter was broken

because the cutter had tried to cut a shape that was not a shape

and the shape had refused.

And the witch said that's not how it's done,

and the girl said I want my Twinkies,

and the boys said:

We are not your gingerbread.

We are not your sheep of slaughter.

We are the fire you could not keep alive.

And they walked out of the house made of candy and bone

and the animals were waiting in the yard

and the animals knew them

and the animals had never once read the recipe.

IX. THE FIRE

And the witch's house is still there.

It is in the woods of a country that was built on a picture.

And the oven is still hot and the cutter is still sharp and the powdered sugar is still sweet

and the girl is still eating and the factory is still running and the number is still coming down from above.

But the fire on the old stone altar is still burning.

It is burning in the kitchen where two people are actually talking.

It is burning in the letter written by hand.

It is burning in the record that was kept by someone who was not required to keep it.

It is burning in the mouth of the one who says I was there, and this is what happened.

It is burning in the animals who never once read the recipe and never once picked.

And the witch cannot put it out.

And the girl cannot eat it.

And the factory cannot make it.

Because the fire does not need permission

and the fire has never once asked for a form

and the fire is the one shape that the cutter cannot cut.

"Let the facts be submitted to a candid world."

And we mutually pledge—

to each other—

our lives, our fortunes,

and our sacred honor.

And to the ones still in the oven:

The heat is not the shape of you.

The frosting is not the face of you.

And the girl was never the point.

The fire is.

Hieros Rev. Dustin Irish-Webb