Crunch

She was careful in this phase - getting the hair and eye color right, paying attention to the style of the clothing. When she brought them out, plated carefully, everyone marveled ... and was a bit uncomfortable; the gingerbread versions of themselves just lay there, ready to eat. "The choice is yours," she said. "Eat the person you're most angry with and finish it; devour and be done. Or ... if that feels too obvious, eat yourself. Taste the sickly sweet of your little white lies, the crunch of your fragile egos, the bitter dusting of the baking powder truth about you. Face it and be free." She picked up the ginger matriarch and bit off her head, then smiled. "I get tired of the way I overthink things," she giggled (the magic taking hold).