Once upon a time there lived an old man and an old woman.
Perhaps I should ask the Wife to bake me a gingerbread man.
The Old Man thought, immediately got up from the bench and, shuffling in his worn-out boots, hobbled towards the cottage.
He slammed the door loudly, the rickety walls shook, but the Wife didn't react—she was busy completing another level in the game 'Magnetise Koschei'. Koschei wouldn't magnetise, and the Wife was beginning to get cross. The Old Man quickly assessed the situation, realised he was about to be blamed for all her failures, but decided not to back down.
Listen, Wife, how about we bake a gingerbread man?
He began timidly, secretly hoping she wouldn't hear him and everything would blow over.
But the Wife heard him and, looking up from the screen, reacted surprisingly calmly:
What are you on about, Old Man, what gingerbread man? That's technically impossible. Where am I supposed to get the right sort of flour? As far as I remember the recipe, you have to scrape it from the barn and sweep it from the grain bins. Have you got a barn, or have some grain bins magically appeared? You probably don't even know what those are, your knowledge is limited because you can't use Google! So come on, settle for a little cake and don't expect anything grand, we haven't got a Tesco in our cellar!
The Old Man was once again amazed by his wife's technical savvy and gladly agreed to the cake. The Wife briskly pulled herself together and bustled off to the kitchen. There she darted from cupboard to table, from table to oven, and soon it smelt delicious, the mixer whirred, white vanilla foam rose up.
The cake turned out splendidly. Rather small, admittedly, but quite appetising.
Let it soak.
Said the Wife, surveying the fruit of her labours with satisfaction.
She placed the cake on the windowsill and immersed herself once more in the sweet world of electronic games, still stubbornly trying to magnetise Koschei. The Old Man could only stare at his wife's back in her flowery dressing gown and listen to the battle cries occasionally uttered by his dearly beloved spouse. Soon he grew thoroughly bored and began to doze in his chair to the sound of the Wife's exclamations.
The cake on the windowsill soaked through, came to life, tipped onto its un-creamed side, fell onto the grass beneath the window, lay there for a bit, and rolled off down the path.
It hadn't rolled far when it saw something hopping towards it. Upon closer inspection, the hopping object turned out to be a live hare.
The Hare froze in surprise at the sight of a cake rolling down the path.
Oi you, confectionery marvel, where are you rolling to? Stop, I'm going to eat you!
As if! In your dreams! You've clearly read too many fairy tales! I lay in the sun, soaked through, had a rest, rolled off the windowsill, ran down the path. I quickly put the Old Man to sleep, drowned the Wife in the internet. And you, Hare, are no obstacle to me at all.
Whilst the Hare twitched his ears, trying to make sense of what he'd heard—he didn't quite understand the bit about the Wife—the Cake darted away and disappeared behind a tree stump.
The Cake rolls on. It sees someone else looming ahead. A figure rather larger than the Hare. Blimey! It's the Wolf!
Unbelievable, first there were gingerbread men everywhere, and now cakes are rolling about under my feet. Fancy a snack?
You're planning to snack on me, Grey One?
What do you think? There doesn't seem to be anything else edible around here.
Don't even think about it! I've got so much cholesterol in me that even the Wife and Old Man changed their minds about eating me! They didn't want to die before their time. They just threw me out the window, so I rolled away—what else was I supposed to do?
The Wolf pondered.
What about just a piece? One bit won't hurt, will it?—he said timidly.
Listen, Grey One, life hasn't taught you anything, has it? Has your tail grown back yet? After that winter fishing trip with the Fox?
Without waiting for the Wolf to finish feeling his tail, the Cake prudently rolled into a grass-covered hollow.
When the Cake rolled out of the hollow, the sun was already setting, and in the clearing, exposing his belly to the last non-scorching rays, lay the Bear. The Cake miscalculated slightly and crashed right into his side. However, he managed to bounce away in time, and the Bear didn't manage to swipe him with his paw.
What's this? A cake? Did the Fox send you as a present for me?
Yeah right, as if she'd send anything! I'm training for speed here! And you're in my way. Sprawled out like you're in a zoo. There are no individual enclosures here!
Now, now, don't be cross, if you're training then train! Look, I'm getting up now, I'm moving away. Go on, roll along, if you see the Fox, give her my regards.
The Bear mumbled good-naturedly.
The Cake chuckled at the Bear's simplicity and rolled on. The sun set, and twilight enveloped the forest. The Cake didn't notice someone creeping up behind him.
Excellent! Marvellous! Wonderful! A cake on the path!
It was the Fox's voice.
The Bear sends his regards, Red.
What are you muttering about? I can't hear a thing. Come roll closer. Don't be afraid, I've developed diabetes, I've eaten too many gingerbread men. So you're not interesting to me as food, you don't attract me, understand? Come on, shift those creamy sponges of yours! I haven't got time to receive greetings from you, the Wolf's waiting for me at the chicken coop!
Actually, he's not waiting!
The Cake squealed joyfully, rolling up to the Fox.
He's not waiting at all, he's walking along the path, so you'll have to deal with the chickens yours…
The Cake didn't get to finish. The Fox bent down lower, opened her mouth wider, and the Cake didn't even have time to realise that he was no longer rolling along the path but moving down the Fox's gullet.
And therefore didn't have time to reflect on what comes of an excessive desire to show off one's knowledge.
