Rhi Axtell – Writer

Today, I learnt a lesson: do not live your life according to the whims of a blog prompt generator.

As soon as I saw this prompt, I knew I wanted pancakes. And not the usual scotch, brown, thick and fluffy type either. I wanted a crepe. A thin, little-bit-crispy-but-still-soft, flat and round crepe that I could eat for breakfast. I could add a little jam, or sugar and lemon juice, or peanut butter. I could mix and match. The possibilities were endless.

(Okay, the possibilities ended with what ingredients I had in my cupboard, but that doesn’t sound as good).

I found a recipe online (a recipe titled easy pancakes). I gathered the ingredients, of which I had most (vegetable oil was substituted with coconut oil but they both have oil in their name so it makes sense, right?). I began cooking. Or rather, mixing. With a whisk. Whisking.

When I was whisking, I was happy. Oh what a happy whisker I was.

But then the whisking time came to an end. Now it was time to make the easy pancakes.

You’ve probably guessed how it went.

I didn’t make pancakes, or crepes, or anything really that deserves a name.

What I made was an incomprehensible mess. A sort of sad, wet, slimy cloud. This easy pancake didn’t flip. It flopped. Hard.

With a growl of frustration, I hurled the yellow slime onto a plate. But I am an optimist. Maybe it wasn’t so bad? I prodded it with a fork and, when it didn’t squeak, I placed a little bit in my mouth.

It tasted like disappointment. It tasted like failure. It tasted like that time when I was eight and got up to read a poem in front of the whole school in assembly and tore my trousers as I stood up, revealing my behind to everyone in its entirety (I then messed up the poetry reading as well).

In the end, I ate a banana for breakfast. The healthier option.