Dedicated to me wife, whose sweet tooth is truly inspiring.

The full moon rose over the quaint village of Gingerton, illuminating the sugar-frosted roofs and licorice lampposts. The citizens, blissfully unaware of their impending doom, went about their nightly routines. Gumdrop street lights flickered on, and gingerbread children clutched peppermint sticks as they played hopscotch on candy-cane cobblestones.

But deep in the shadow of the Gumdrop Forest, something stirred.

A chilling howl tore through the peaceful night, shattering the sugary serenity. The townsfolk froze, frosting-covered faces etched with dread. “The Beast!” cried Mayor Snickerdoodle, clutching his powdered wig, which was, naturally, made of spun sugar.

Before anyone could react, the creature tore into the village like a batter through frosting. The werewolf—a monstrous blend of fur, fangs, and ferocity—towered over the gingerbread citizens. Its claws, sharp as caramel shards, slashed through gingerbread walls, sending sugary debris flying.

It was pure chaos. Mr. Sprinkle, the baker, was the first to fall, torn limb from deliciously iced limb. The werewolf devoured him in two bites, crumbs cascading from its jaws. Mrs. Macaroon, the schoolteacher, tried to flee but slipped on a puddle of melted marshmallow, sealing her fate. “Not my gumdrop buttons!” she shrieked as the werewolf chomped down on her torso.

The creature rampaged through the village, eating its way through homes, shops, and citizens alike. The candy cane clock tower crumbled under its weight. It gnawed through the Jellybean Bank and devoured the entire licorice vault.

Young Ginger, the village carpenter, watched in horror as his gingerbread workshop was reduced to rubble. He clutched his caramel hammer and whispered, “I should’ve moved to Fudgetown when I had the chance.”

By the time the moon began its descent, Gingerton was a wasteland. Only a handful of gingerbread people remained, hiding in the remains of a chocolate fountain. The werewolf stood in the village square, its massive belly distended from the feast. It let out a final howl before collapsing in a heap of crumbs and destruction.

As the first rays of dawn pierced the horizon, the transformation began. The fur receded, claws retracted, and the beast’s hulking frame shrank. In its place lay a middle-aged woman in sweatpants and a stained hoodie that read Life’s Short, Eat Dessert First.

Her name was Abby.

Abby groaned, sitting up amidst the ruins. She licked her lips, tasting the remnants of gingerbread on her tongue. “Oh no… not again,” she muttered, glancing at the carnage. The devastation was almost as bad as the time she’d cleared out an entire Krispy Kreme during a blackout.

“Is anyone alive?” she called out, her voice echoing through the hollowed village. A tiny gingerbread man emerged from the rubble, trembling. His icing eyebrows knitted in fear.

“You… you monster!” he squeaked.

Abby winced. “Listen, I’m sorry. It’s… it’s a condition. Full moon, sugar cravings—it’s a whole thing.” She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “You wouldn’t understand. Do you know how hard it is to quit sugar cold turkey?”

The gingerbread man pointed a shaky gumdrop finger. “You ate my wife!”

Abby grimaced. “Okay, that’s… on me. But to be fair, she was really well-baked.” She sniffed the air, catching the faint scent of nutmeg. “Was that cinnamon I tasted? Fantastic recipe.”

The gingerbread man screamed in fury and threw a stale gumdrop at her head. Abby ducked.

“Alright, alright,” she said, raising her hands in surrender. “I’ll make this right. I’ll… uh…” She glanced around the demolished village. “Rebuild the town? Buy you all a lifetime supply of frosting?”

“How about you leave and never come back?” the gingerbread man snapped.

Abby sighed, brushing crumbs off her sweatpants. “Fair enough.” She turned and began trudging toward the Gumdrop Forest, muttering under her breath. “Every time. I should’ve just stuck with keto.”

As she disappeared into the trees, the gingerbread man surveyed what was left of his home. “We’ll rebuild,” he whispered, his tiny fists clenched. “And next time, we’ll be ready.”

Somewhere in the distance, Abby sneezed, scattering powdered sugar into the wind.