Day 70: In Which He Pancakes
He looked damn good in an apron. But apparently, Elsa found playing with the cats and a stupid piece of string more entertaining than VIP access to all his damn-goodness. Of course his ungrateful feline children were cockblocking him. Things were already hard enough—pun unintended—without the cats getting in the way. He snorted. Well, at least the ladies were getting along better now.
He could hear Elsa's cooing coming from the living room as he poured a hefty ladle of batter into the hot pan. It immediately started sizzling, and the smell of butter and sugar hit his nostrils, making his stomach growl. Waiting was the worst, so he occupied his time with licking batter off the sides of the bowl. He must've done something wrong, though, because when he tried to flip the pancake like Elsa had told him to do, things didn't go his way.
"Uh… Elsa dear?" He tried poking a spatula underneath the batter, but all he accomplished was a big crack that nearly split Pangea into the blobs found in a modern-day world map. "A little help here?"
"What's wrong?" she asked, footsteps moving toward the kitchen.
"It's all stuck," Jack whined, and she brushed her arm against his to take the frying pan from his hands.
"Don't worry, the first pancake is always bad."
He glared at Elsa with his hands on his hips as she scraped bits of burnt batter into a plate.
"Are you telling me that you doomed me to fail from the get-go?"
"Don't be dramatic." She rolled her eyes, then handed him the clean pan. "Here. Try again."
He looked at her with skepticism. "No catch this time?"
"You have my word."
Round two really did go better, and he was rewarded with a golden, a little overdone on one side, fluffy pancake. By the third one, he already felt like he'd been making pancakes his whole life. In the fourth one, he pushed the limits of his skills, and also of Elsa's patience as an observer, and attempted an air flip.
"Did you see that?!" Jack shouted as the pancake landed safely back in the frying pan. He laughed, throwing his free fist in the air. "I could so be a pro pancakes flipper!"
"I thought you liked being a photographer," Elsa mumbled with her lips glued to the rim of her mug.
He shrugged, then went to lean against the counter, face to face with her, and with a stack of delicious-looking pancakes between them. "Who says I can't do both? I'm gonna update my resume after breakfast."
"Oh, sure," Elsa scoffed, lowering her mug and locking eyes with him. "Add it to your skills right under being an idiot and a mediocre indoors boy scout."
He scowled. "Uh, excuse you, who are you calling mediocre?"
"You don't deny being an idiot?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.
"... I didn't say that!"
Who said this story was finished again? That's right. This bitch. Sup.
Being serious, though. I had many people telling me that this story had a positive impact on their quarantine days. Reading those comments had a positive impact on my quarantine days, fam. I really appreciate all the support.
