Gingerbread Justice

"Run, run, as fast as you can," giggled the Gingerbread Man. He clutched his parcel of stolen gems to his chest. "Can't catch me," he whispered. "Never never ever."

He skidded around the corner and scrambled over the chain link fence. Fat gingerbread cops, stuffed with doughnuts, blood of his blood smearing their guilty faces. They'd never be able to follow him. No one could.

He ducked into an alley and stopped to listen. No pounding footsteps. No shouts of alarm. He was safe. Then he heard something that chilled his icing till it cracked. Baying and howling.

The gingerbread dogs.