Gingy was a nice chap. He was happy and easy going. People knew him for his smile, which was rather permanent, carved out with a small peppermint stick. Some people did not like him, because he was brown, and that did not upset him. He still smiled, as he always did. He loved everybody except one, Santa Claus. Because Santa ate his wife Suzy, some three years back. His parents, Mrs. & Mr. Travis died in their own bakery fire, days after his wife was untimely eaten. Muffy was the only one he can call family. Gingy, as everyone called him, was not his real name. He was born Gingerbread Man, in the Travis bakery by Mrs. & Mr. Travis as an experiment. When he came out of the oven, Mrs. Travis fell in love with him, and brought him up like her own son. His elder brother, Muffy, the Muffin Man did not like him at first, for the same reason as others. He was brown. He thought he did not belong to them; he should have born to a Hawaiian or Brazilian Family. Soon after because of his happy nature and that permanent smile, he too fell in love with him. Now Gingy was the most loved kid in the family. Not only in the family, but also in the community.
That morning was like any other, sun came up bright, birds chirruping. People going for their morning rituals as usual. The Lincoln Street in Houston came alive as it does every morning. Gingy too was busy managing the bakery. Selling breads, cakes, muffins, chocolates and what not. The pace of life here is just a little bit calmer and closer to nature. Muffy was angry with Gingy over last night’s bread’s issue and had gone to take a walk along the Panamera beach. The beach was not far from their bakery-home so Gingy did not mind. Ting! The bell hanging over the entrance of the bakery tinged as the first customer, Mr. Samuels of the news business entered. He asked for two loafs of bread and butter, which Gingy handed him smiling. Mr. Samuels asked him to switch on the radio to get the brief morning news.