Oma WC: 299

Oma

Breathless, Karl approaches the quaint cottage, the engraved invitation in his hand. It had been slipped under his front door the day before.

“Please join me for tea tomorrow at noon sharp. Fondly, Oma.”

The path is peppered with signs: NO TRESPASSING. YOU ARE BEING WATCHED. RESTRICTED AREA. YOU AREN’T WELCOME HERE.

The time is precisely 12:00 noon. Karl hesitates; the signs have made him wary. Also, Karl does not have a living granny.

I am here strictly out of curiosity.

The aroma of gingerbread reaches his nostrils. It is now 12:02 and he is late.

Karl knocks on the door, his heart racing in anticipation.

What exactly am I expecting? That a long-lost relative comes to the door and announces that I have inherited a large amount of money?

The lure of money has always been Karl’s downfall.

Karl does not recognize the woman that answers the door. The tiny woman looks harmless enough.

“Welcome,” Oma says with a slight German accent. “I’ve been expecting you. Please make yourself comfortable.”

A plate of gingerbread men sits on the rough-hewn table. Karl takes two. Oma pours him tea.

“Sugar? Cream?”

“No, thank you,” he says and takes his first sip. “Very nice.”

The chubby man bites off the head and half the torso of a gingerbread man and washes it down with a gulp of tea.

She squeezes his arm. “Yes, that’s what I thought. Nice meat on your bones.”

“Excuse me!” He pulls away.

Karl notices the large oven.

“When I saw you in the store, I could see you would be tasty, so I followed you.”

Head swimming, Karl can’t move.

“No need to fatten you up,” Oma says.

Karl’s head collapses on the plate of gingerbread men.

The lure of money has always been Karl’s downfall.