Fandom High Dormitories

Wayne almost didn't even make it on over to the common room fer breakfast that morning. There'd just been this heavy feeling weighing down his broad shoulders since he woke up that morning wondering what was even the point? No one even really cared about MMB and the tradition of it all, 'cept mebbe him, really, and it wouldn't even matter soon, anyway, he'd only had two or three more of 'em left before he graduated and it was back to the farm, back to chorin', so what did it even matter? Mebbe you could fuck with tradition after all; mebbe you should.

Odds were somethin' terrible was going to happen once he got down there, anyway, like all the eggs were actually monsters or all his pancake batter turned to slime or some other such tomfuckery...

But somehow, he managed to pull through this fog of reservations and excuses and shuffled reluctantly down the hall to the common room, not at all comforted by the fact that the eggs were just eggs and his pancake batter remained batter, because that just meant that, if the breakfast was normal, then something else was likeleh to go pear-shaped instead, but at least there was something in the fact that he'd have a good solid breakfast in his stomach to prepare him for whatever it was that might be headin' their way...

[[ open breakfast is open, of course! ]]

When Wayne got to the common room early that morning to get a start on breakfast, he was not expecting to see that not only was the Christmas Troy still there, it was also fully decked out just the way they'd left it.

He probably should have expected it, really, and didn't know why he felt even a little bit surprised.

He squinted a little at Troy before moving to fridge and the cupboards to start getting everything out to start cooking, until a voice emerged from all that tinsel and garland ornaments.

"Wayne? A little help?" When that wasn't met with an immediate leap to action, he added, a little witheringly, "I really have to use the bathroom."

"Oh, fer fuck's sake!" Wayne huffed slightly, setting down his pots and pans in a clatter before turning sharply to access the situation. Because when a man asked fer help, you helped 'em, but they'd really gone a bit overboard, and Troy, in general, sort of needed all the help he could get.

"I'll go find scissors," he concluded.

Or, at this point, to cut through all that bullshit, some gardening sheers...

[[ open of course! ]]

Wayne didn't get a chance to chat with many of the newbies on picnic day, meaning he didn't have many chances to let them know about Monday Morning Breakfast, but, hopefulleh, the breakfast would take care of letting them know itself through the power that was cooking aromas working its way through this school's odd kind of ventilation system. Or word would get around somehow. Or he'd just have a lot of leftovers for the week, and that was okay, too, though not exactly optimal.

Honestly, though, by Monday morning (though a bit of a later start than usual since he wound up with a class first period; that was hardly going to stop breakfast, though!), he was mostleh just feeling glad that, when he came into the common room, all the stuff he'd gotten for it was there and just the way he'd left them, there wasn't anything weird going on with any of the equipments or cupboards or dishes, no abundance of weird ingredients, no lurking gremlins, no nothing out of the ordinary....which was a little out of the ordinary, but Wayne, who was about 95% sure this island was going to try and fuck up the first Monday Morning Breakfast of a new semester, was not going to complain!


...not about that, anywhey!

[[ open breakfast is open! ]]

When Wayne checked the weather for that day (even though his days of spending most of his time out chorin' around the farm were currently on hiatus, it was a habit that had yet to die out and probably never would because Wayne was an entity held together by habit and repetition), he saw it was going to start bein' a bit hot, so his breakfast that morning tended to trend on the lighter side of things. More fruits and juices, crepes instead of pancakes for the day, that kind of thing, because he firmly believed that not only was breakfast the most important meal of the day, but it was also important to match the breakfast to the sort of day you were going to have, if you could.

So far, though, everything seemed to be cooperating, even if he did seem to be a bit clumsy this morning, getting a bit of food on his shirt as he was cookin' things up that'll definitely have to be washed out soon, or else it might stain. And that'd be a shame, since this was one of his favorite flannels...

Sure, it looked almost exactly like his complete rainbow array of various flannels, except for the color and the exact pattern if you looked closely, but it was one of the nice ones...

[[ open breakfast is open! ]]

If there was one good thing to say about Nina's class, it was that it certainly made Wayne a little more toleratin' and slightly more accepting of the fact that, sometimes, when you cook...at least around here...some things are going to happen in ways that you don't expect them to. Like mayo in cheesecake. Or in boozy buns.

Or, in today's case, the odd phenomenon that was everything he was making just ending up as a breakfast pizza.

Pancakes? Started out fine. Flipped just fine. But as soon as he took it from the pan and onto a plate? Pizza.

Eggs? Scrambled, sunny-side-up, over-easy, poached? No matter what, pizza.

He even cut up some fruit, went to put it in a bowl, and what did he get? Fuckin' pizza!

At that point, he just gave up and figgured, well....looks like they were having pizza fer breakfast today. Ain't no reason to get excited.

Although it was a pretty good reason to get irritated as hell. Especially considering that when he said everything was turning into pizza, he meant everything. He'd put off making coffee that morning, terrified of what the results might be, but curiousity got the better of him, and as he went to grab the pot...pizza.

Shoulda fuckin' known better.

[[ open breakfast is open! come get some 'pizza'? idk. ]]

Wayne should have figured he'd had too many completely normal breakfasts in a row. And that morning was one of the particularleh annoying ones where it started out completely normal, and then went a little weird right toward the end. Because there he was, just going about his usual business of making breakfast in the morning, everything going along accordin' to plan, until he went to actually take the pancakes or the eggs or the bacon or whatever else it was out of the pan and onto a plate.

Because that was when the food suddenly went miniature.

Little mini pancakes. Little tiny eggs. Itty bitty bacon. Normal sized in the pan. Baby sized out.

"So's it's not only gotta be annoying," he grumbled at the food, "it's gotta be inefficient, too, huh?"

Because now he had to make at least twice as much food to equal the usual amount of food he'd put on a plate, and he'd found out it wasn't just the one pan, it was all the pans, and he also had to brace himself for at least a few of the usual breakfast crew probably going around talkin' about how cute all the mini food was.

But there was nothin' cute about inefficiency!

[[ and breakfast is served! Open! ]]

At some point last week, Wayne had been making some notes about some of the regionally inspired breakfasts they'd been having to carry on over to his own Monday Morning Breakfasts, but, really, when all was said and done, when he actually got to making breakfast that morning, he decided, fuck, all that was gonna do was make him him miss the place. Not necessarily miss bein' on vacation, he didn't really do well with idleness and vacations and things like that, but he had enjoyed the trip, and decided maybe getting back to the more traditional stuff could be in order jus' to sort of set up the idea that it was back to the old usual grind again.

So there were pancakes and eggs and bacon and what have you as per usual, and that was all well and dandy, but then there was the whole issue with the coffee, and the fact that what Wayne got when he brewed up a pot was less of life-giving bean juice and more midnight matinee horror show. Because what he got was definitely a pot of what was absolutely fake blood (because real blood didn't really look like that).

He sniffed it, made a face, and poured the whole pot right down the sink and rinsed it out (and the sink, too, lest it look like he was up to something decidedly not breakfast related around here), and tried again. Same thing. Dumped that, figgured mebbe the third time's a charm, but no such luck. Which left him to narrow his eyes at the coffee maker, squinting at it accusingly.

"Now, look here, bud," he said, fully aware that he was standing there, talking to a kitchen appliance, "if you've got a problem with coffee this morning, then you've got a problem with me, an' I suggest you let that one marinate!"

This island had put them through a lot of terrible things, sure but no coffee on a Monday morning after a vacation? Fuck a duck, that was just a whole new level of cruelty that Wayne almost couldn't stand to contemplate.

[[ My schedule's a bit wonky this week, so a bit of SP on my end, more'n likeleh, but open breakfast is definitely open! ]]