It started a few years ago when my nieces came to visit us one Christmas. You remember them? The juvenile delinquents who used magnetic poetry to create truly... ummm.... "gritty" pieces of Frigidair Free Association? This Amana Art included such pieces of refrigerator rhyming as "The sordid drooling man with the enormous sausage," and "screaming with madness smear waxy purple blood on my raw ass." Yes, THOSE nieces.
So it shouldn't come as a surprise to you that the Gingerbread Crackhouse has been hugely anticipated by all three of them. (okay, and by us, too) In the weeks before we arrived in Texas, the ideas and plans had been blossoming. It was as if each of the Twelve Days of Christmas brought another idea about gingerbread man dismemberment, which food coloring might work best to give an appearance of blood, or the best way to create track marks on a cookie.
The ultimate results are quite impressive. Perhaps they'll let my nieces out of custody in time for next Christmas!
Note the dead body dumped in the dumpster.
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| From Mark and Heather's World |
The actual crackhouse, complete with someone climbing onto the roof, prostitute outside the front door, and misspelling of the warning: "Tresspasors wills bee shoot."
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| From Mark and Heather's World |
Pimp, with stylish cane (candy cane, that is)
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| From Mark and Heather's World |
Things get a little out of hand....
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| From Mark and Heather's World |
Prostitute with a black eye. The item in her left hand appears to be a small screwdriver, but in reality it's her heroin needle.
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| From Mark and Heather's World |
Pimp Mobile
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| From Mark and Heather's World |
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