We didn’t start Saturday morning out on the right foot. As soon as the Beast and I woke up, at 11:46am, I accidently let out a little toot.
Beast: Oh my God. That sounded like a fart from before the beginning of recorded time.
Foodie: If you go get the papers I’ll make coffee.
Beast: Deal. And I’ll bring down a morning-time record to listen to.
Soon we were sitting on the couch reading our papers and drinking coffee and listening to terrible music.
Foodie: I don’t mean to be rude but when I think of morning-time music, I tend to think of something calming. We just woke up after all. What you’re playing sounds like garbage.
Beast: Keith Jarrett is not garbage.
Foodie: No, he’s not. But this particular album–
Beast: It’s The Survivor’s Suite.
Foodie: The Survivor’s Suite sounds terrible right now. Can you put on something prettier please?
Beast (ignoring my request): I think we should go get our H1N1 vaccinations this afternoon. There’s a clinic on Cowen Ave that’s open until 4:00pm.
Foodie: Okay. But first we better eat something.
I decided to make pancakes using a recipe from a new cookbook that the Beast’s parents bought me.
The recipe seemed simple enough–some flour, milk, an egg, a little sugar and baking powder. I also decided to add slices of banana while they cooked. This is when the Beast came into the kitchen “to help”.
Beast: Want to know how I would have done that?
Foodie: Oh do tell.
Beast: First, I would have sliced the bananas, then I’d roll them in brown sugar and cinnamon and then I’d cook them in bacon fat, you know, to candy them, and they’d be served as a topping rather than being cooked inside the pancake.
Foodie: Well it’s too late for all that. They’re done.
Beast: We need sausages with this breakfast.
Foodie: You know what I need? To eat. Now dress your pancakes as you see fit.
I set out maple syrup and butter but that wouldn’t do for Prince Beast: he rummaged through the pantry and grabbed crap Hershy’s chocolate sauce and his go-to product when he wants to make a meal look fancy, icing sugar.
Foodie: These taste terrible.
Beast: Man, you really botched this one.
Foodie: I know! They’re so spongy.
Beast: Luckily I have enough toppings on mine to make them palatable.
Foodie: Did you just say palatable?
Beast: Yes I did. Oh don’t worry about it. Sweet breakfast isn’t supposed to be a rational person’s meal.
Foodie: What does that mean?
Beast: It’s for fucking kids man! They’re pancakes!
Foodie: You better settle down before we go get our flu shots. You’re acting like a spaz this morning.
Beast: Not a chance . You know what I’m going to do when I get there? I’m going to find a curtain and then undress behind it and I’ll come out naked and say “Where are the gowns? I can’t find any gowns!”
Foodie: Sorry about breakfast, and about what happened earlier.
Beast: What? Oh that. Maybe you should change your blog name to Fartie and the Beast. No, don’t change it. But you have to stop with these epic posts! They’ve all been well over 1500 words lately. Nobody wants to read that much!
Foodie: I know, I know. I’ll start editing myself more. I just don’t know when to stop sometimes.
Foodie: no stars
Beast: no stars for the pancakes, **** for his stupid toppings