Third Floor Common Room; Monday Morning [02/10].

[howareyanow]

Wayne may have been feeling just a little bit...funneh that morning (the highlights on hockeyfights.com that he started his day with were always exciting, sure, but never exactly that exciting), but it seemed as though he weren't the only thing funneh about this morning. Oh, well, sure, things were on track with breakfast, fer the most part, all the proper food in the fridge, the cabinets regular cabinets again, and he got started on the coffee and the prep work jus' fine, but the problem seemed to be the pancakes. Not how they tasted, or anything like that, and mebbe it was just him, but he could have sworn, every time he poured a pancake into the pan, it just wound up looking...

Well. He wasn't sure there was really a polite way to put it. But they ended up looking very much not like pancakes, and much more like...well...

There was no polite way to say it, so he wouldn't say it at all.

He almost thought that, if the pancakes were gonna go and insist on being...funneh, then maybe he should skip the pancakes all together. But his sense for tradition was far stronger than his sense for propriety, and so it seemed like all them inappropriately suggestive pancake shapes were here to stay.

Which he may have then regretted, as it seemed his initial consideration of the normal foods was incorrect, or, at least, it had changed while writing the post while he cooked, because it appeared as though all the usual maple syrup to accompany said pancakes had definitely been replaced with...whipped cream.

"Inappropriate!" he told the fridge after squinting at it in disapproval, but what could he do? Alls he wanted was to have a nice Monday morning breakfast, because, y'know. Tradition.

[[ open breakfast is open! And sex pollen weekend has already broken my computer, as it has literally crashed every single time I've made a post so far today. Thanks, computer! ]]