I managed to pick up some of the gingerbread freak's radio broadcasts this afternoon. I was folding laundry when the fillings in my teeth somehow began to act as a sort of radio receiver, and while the broadcast was pretty broken up and static-filled, I managed to make out the following:
...parallel capacitors and flux linkage...Operation Biscuit Tin underway...inductance characteristics of human skin...cerbrospinal fluid matching...proceed as necessary...separation of medula oblongata and state...three soup crackers...touched on the head twice...broken tailbone you...poison monkeys...once in a crowded elevator but not since then...
I'm not sure who they were broadcasting to, or who could possibly be aiding these monsters, but I was going to see if I could find the broadcast station and do some recon. Before I could move in I was stopped by the sudden appearance of a small advance force. Ten or so of their Special Forces troops broke cover from behind the wingback chair in the den and started a daring daylight assault on the pool table. I'm not sure what their final objective was, unless they had some daring plan to put a sattelite receiver on the roof via the ceiling fan, or perhaps they were intent on installing a sniper up there in the attic; whatever their purpose was I managed to cut it short by hurling this morning's breakfast bagels at them from the overturned kitchen table, while they tried vainly to reach the top using hand-pulled taffy ropes. They were caught out in the open with nowhere to retreat, and my cinnamon and raisin air-to-ground attack quickly dispatched them to a crumb.
My victory was sweet.