Porridge is insanely delicious. It is just so absolute in it's tastiness that I cannot describe it in words. But, I will try: it is like an orgasm in my mouth, an explosion of mushy flavor massaging my taste buds gently. It's… it's… porridge, porridge with a spoonful of cinnamon and sugar, coupled with a delightful handful of raisins.
You see, reader, when I was 7, my mum decided I should start eating more healthy breakfast meals. I, being the stunningly well behaved 7 year that I was, threw an enormous tantrum, degrading porridge in all of its wonderful…ness. Which I apologized for, of course, (I could never be without you my little oat filled friend). I was quieted, however, once a mouthful of it was luckily shoved down my adorable little throat. And you see, reader, I have since not been without my daily bowl of porridge since that glorious day, which is why, reader, I am quietly resisting the ever present threat of pancakes.
"James, I am not making you porridge. First of all, I only know how to make pancakes. And secondly, I hate porridge Pancakes are good anyway, I'm surprised you've never had them." Lily stated, firmly.
I pouted, and the puppy dog eyes emerged.
"James, don't give me that, I am not making you porridge. If you want it so badly, go make some yourself."
I stared at her with a blank look on my face. Me? Cook?
"But where will I learn how to cook porridge?" I asked, glumly.
She shrugged and placed a plate of pancakes in front of me. How dare she tempt me! I started twitching. "Must… resist!" I yell. She looks at me strangely, shrugging it off after a few seconds of rude staring on her part, it's not as if I was doing anything odd anyway.
The pancakes were purely temptations, tools for my evidently premature demise. I would not give in. I would not consent! I would learn to cook porridge! And with that thought in my mind, I stormed to the other side of the kitchen, angrily grabbed our only cookbook and began leafing through it, muttering, "Porridge… porridge…," under my breath.
Apparently I had a crazy glint in my eye because Lily said, "You have a crazy glint in your eye, James." Damn straight!
"It's scaring me." Well… okay then!
Several minutes and one absent crazy glint later I exclaimed, "AH HA!" throwing my hands towards the heavens and thanking Merlin for my sudden good fortune. "Let's see… Water, oats, salt, that's simple enough! Lily d'you know if we have any oats?"
"We don't." she says, not even glancing up at me while she reads the Daily Prophet.
"You didn't even check!" throwing my hands in the air.
"Trust me James, we don't have any oats."
"That's a lie and you know it."
"The crazy glint is back." She tells me after finally glancing up at me, a small amused grin threatening to break forth.
"Oh, sorry." I apologized.
"Just eat your pancakes, you big baby."
"James Potter is no baby!"
"Then just eat your pancakes, you prat."
"I will never eat pancakes. They are evil, they're soft and flavourless." I point out.
"And oatmeal isn't?"
"Touché."
"Just eat them, or you'll be late for work."
"Ugh… fine." I sit down and take a tiny bite out of the repulsive brown thing residing on my plate. My expression turns from disgust to love. "Merlin! These are perhaps the best things I have ever tasted! They're orgasmic, delicious, just amaz-"
"James shut up and eat your pancakes."