Ghost In The Snow

Chapter 11: Pancake Attack

The kitchen wasn't something to yell hallelujah for. The counters weren't really clean, and the room in itself was quite small. A scent of salty-smelling dog food and old, rotting wood hung in the air. I crinkled my nose up because of the smell. Frank didn't seem to care, but of course, he lived here.

"So pancakes?", he said and looked at me. I turned around, "Yeah, pancakes." He started giggling. "What do we need for pancakes?" I tried to remember a recipe. "Hmm, we need flour, eggs, milk, margarine, salt..." "Not even sugar?", Frank questioned and furrowed his brow. "Well, it's actually not necessary, but it doesn't make the pancakes worse", I said and winked. Not really sure why, just felt like it.

He chuckled and opened the fridge. He took some eggs and margarine out and almost threw it at the counter. I gasped, opened the egg tray to check on the eggs. Frank looked weirdly at me.

"Yeah, don't you know eggs are quite fragile?", I said, wondered if this boy ever had been making food. "I know, but you don't have to treat them like as if they were your kids!", he said and laughed at me, slamming the fridge door. "The real question is; would you throw a kid around?", I asked and looked at him. He stood by the fridge and shuffled around. "Only up into the air and then catching them again." He chuckled and looked down at his feet. "Not at a counter?", I asked again and couldn't stop a giggle from escaping my mouth. "Of course not!" He laughed and came closer to me. "So why throw a hen's children at a counter?", I continued and tilted my head to the side. "They're not chickens", he mumbled. "More like hen-abortions."

I sighed and started looking for some flour, searching empty cabinets. "Where's the...", I said, but then Frank pointed at a cabinet in the corner. I turned around and opened the cabinet, and the sight didn't surprise me. One of the three shelves was filled with dog food. Seriously, colorful bags of dog food. And right above it, flour and sugar.

I took what I needed. Frank had found a bowl, an electric mixer, and some measuring tools. "We need this, right?", he said in a really confused tone and in his hand he held a spatula.

I laughed at him, "Yeah, we kinda need that one to flip the pancakes." He stared at the kitchen tool, looking like he had never seen one before. "Can't you just, like..." He did a weird, swiping motion. I furrowed my brows, glaring at my boyfriend doing crazy movements while smiling like an idiot. "Like, just...", he started chuckling, grabbed a pan and did a flipping motion. "Oh", I said and grinned. "Nah, I can't make pancakes fly." My smile faded, and I started to mix the ingredients. Frank jumped up on the counter, observing me closely.

I was almost done mixing the dough, when Frank suddenly asked: "Need some more flour?" I was about to mumble 'no', but as I turned my head to look at Frank, he blew some flour off his palms and a white cloud of flour hit me.

He laughed really loud, doubled up in cramps from laughing. I looked down at my black T-shirt, which wasn't so black anymore. "No thanks, Frank. I think I got enough flour."

Finally we were ready to actually bake the pancakes. I started out baking some, and they turned out well. Frank had observed me, tried to understand the art behind baking pancakes.

He seemed confident when he jumped off the counter and took the pan. He shook his head when I tried to give him the spatula. "But you-...", I started, but he interrupted: "No no no, prepare to see a pancake-master-baker!" He smiled and poured the dough onto the pan. He glanced at me for a second, and his smile was so sassy, smug and confident.

Then he did it. Or, rather tried to do it.

He did the weird movement as he had planned. But it wasn't so effective as he thought, it would be. The burning hot pancake didn't land on the pan, but somehow landed on his bare arm. He jumped backwards, dropped the pan, pulling his arm close to himself. The pan landed on the floor with a heavy 'donk', and the pale, half baked pancake laid on the floor.

"Ouch...", he grunted, cringing and hiding his arm from me. "You dork... Let me see", I said, carefully walking over to him without stepping on the pan. I gently took his arm, looking at the red spot. "I don't think it's so critical", I said in a calm voice, that hopefully would help him relax. "Not so critical?!", he whined in a high pitched voice and glared at me. "A pancake attacked me!"

I couldn't resist laughing.

"You think it's funny?", he said, finally starting to calm down. "No, of course it's not funny", I said, still giggling. "Come here. Let the cold water cool the area down." I turned the water on and placed his wrist under the water. He stared at me as if I was stupid. "It'll help", I said and lifted the pan up from the floor.

I continued to successfully make pancakes. After some time I glanced over at Frank and commented: "He who laughs last laughs loudest."

He gave me an annoyed smile, probably not sure if he should accept it or not. In the same second the dog, Bela, ran into the room and ate the pancake on the floor. Frank chuckled at the dog, sat down on the floor and patted it. The pancakes were done soon after, and we were ready to enjoy our meal.

Frank lifted the plate with pancakes up. He held it up to his nose, sniffing the smell and closing his eyes. "Mmm." He smiled in a relaxed way, then began to chuckle, no reason why. His eyes lit up in happiness, when I burst out in an uncontrollable smile. We both started to laugh, and still, no reason why. But I guess we're just happy.

We carefully walked down to Frank's room again. He had the plates and pancakes, I had the jam, syrup and cutlery. I'm not sure why I felt so excited. I was just having pancakes with my friend? No. I was excited, because I was having pancakes with my boyfriend. I felt confident at the thought. I have a boyfriend! I only just realized that.

There wasn't really any place to sit and eat in Frank's room, so we sat on the bed. I asked myself why we couldn't eat in the kitchen, but that's just one of the questions I had to ignore. It was kinda awkward eating pancakes on his bed. Sitting there, glaring at each other eating, and getting cramps in your jaw, because you start laughing of the person in front of you.

After way too many pancakes, I felt really full and a bit tired. Frank was about to take a bite from his last pancake. He looked up at me. "Want a bite?", he asked playfully. "Hm, sure", I said and opened my mouth, expecting a bite. Now I almost hoped for a bite of the pancake.

"Too bad for you then", he said and stared into my eyes. While keeping eye contact, Frank stuffed (almost) the whole pancake into his mouth.

My jaw dropped, shocked over many things. But I began laughing at him, and then he had trouble chewing the pancake. He was close to start laughing as well, shaking his head so he wouldn't have to look at me chuckling.

Finally he had finished eating that pancake, and we waddled out into the kitchen with our plates and stuff. The kitchen was already a mess. Flour everywhere, puddles of milk and water on the counter, dirty bowls and pan stuffed into the kitchen sink. I sighed, expecting us having to clean up now.

Frank looked at me in a thoughtfully way. He swallowed a lump in his throat, and in a low voice he said: "You know... Just throw it all in the sink. I'll clean it up tomorrow." I smiled in relief, the last thing I would want to do now was cleaning up.

I placed the plates in the sink, and gave Frank a hug. We stood there for a moment, hugging each other in silence. I pulled away and saw a smile growing on Frank's stupid face. He giggled a bit, took my hand and dragged me back to his room.