//------------------------------// // Pecan Pancakes // Story: Pancakes // by BlueDraken //------------------------------// Flapjack lay on his rose colored bed enjoying his rest. He turned and opened his eyes to look at the clock hanging near the dark window. 5:00 Time to get up. Seeing the time he silently shifted out of bed and started stretching the kinks out of his legs first with the front pair before moving onto the back pair. Having done this, Flapjack arched his back and it gave out a series of satisfyingly loud pop. Stretches done he heads out of their bedroom through the moonlight living room into his kitchen. His dining table had no decorations, and the counters were bare of anything that looked like it could even be used in the creation of food. As Flapjack strode by the dull brown cabinets idly looking them over he slowed to stop at a particular cabinet. Hers was a bright pink in color and inlaid with fine engravings of a mixing bowl with a burgundy colored handle. The yellow stallion looked at it solemn before opening it slowly. Flapjack made his way down the path, his back saddled with all sorts of pancake supplies. Any syrup you name and he probably had it in one of the bags on his back. He continued on the path towards the Ponyville market humming a soft tune under the moonlight. His hoofsteps were soft as he approached her stall. The oak stall had a high counter ready for any customer to pick up their meal and enjoy it. Flapjack settled near her stall as he set the bag of supplies next to it. He then went around to the back of the stall and grabbed a small broom, carrying it over to the benches nearby, sweeping up and down them till he had removed all of the dirt, imagined or not. Then doing a quick check of the trash cans he laid around and changing then as necessary. Having done this he sits behind the stall fiddling with the strings of a small pink bag. Opened up in a reverent manner he gently places the bell on the counter and sets the bag on the stand next to his stove. The sliver of moonlight left in the sky reflects the silver threads stitched in the bag to the shape of a mixing bowl. Flapjack finished his routine up by cleaning his cooking tools and restocking what was missing: Two dozen eggs, Three bags of flour, and a little bit of every type of syrup, besides pecan he can't get anyone to try that one. It was all then neatly placed under the stall in all of her favorite spots. He had finished everything too quickly and was left standing there behind her stall. Flapjack leaned on the stall and looked around at the empty stalls of Ponyville market. Each one was standing as a monument to a pony's business or at least the shell of them, it made Flapjack just a little empty as he stood there alone. With no one around to look at, he turned his eyes up to the moon. It hung up there, the bell of the ball in a courtroom of fading stars, its luminescence breathtaking. And as he looked up into the sky the stars seemed to twinkle twice as bright under his gaze. The early morning wind nipped at his yellow coat and stole his attention away from the moon and its dancers. Finding something to do he starts making coffee. That took almost no time and he had a paper cup resting in his hooves, slight trails of steam rising off of it. He stares at it unsatisfied. Flapjack sets it to the side and gets the milk, flour, and eggs out to make a proper breakfast. A mixing bowl comes out in a hurry as he turned on the stove with simple twist of a knob. He poured the flour in first, the white powder followed quickly by a deluge of creamy milk. Finally two eggs fall in and with an application of a whisk the mixture turned into a batter fine enough to sell. Well almost. Flapjack takes a small bottle of vanilla extract out from under the stall and lets two drops of it fall into the batter stirring it in. He sets a pan on the now hot stove and pours the mixture out into three white moon like pancakes. Since he wasn't selling these pancakes a few hoof fulls of pecans were secreted away out of their spot and sprinkled generously on the forming pancakes. A smile rested on his face as he watched them cook. Flapjack flipped the pancakes as a sizzling noise came crackling from the pan. Three golden pancakes stared up at him as took a plate and set them on it. A knife with three slices of butter flashed and the little pecan studded darlings looked great. He again looked around before reaching for the pecan syrup, popping the lid, he poured a generous helping of syrup on each one. His breakfast was ready, but he set the plate down and snapped out a hoof to hit the bell and yelled "Order Up!" Having done this he descended on his breakfast like a wolf devouring a stray lamb. His plate sat empty on the counter not even the run-off syrup survived the onslaught. Flapjack sat and sipped at his coffee his face content as the moon went to sleep and the sun started to creep up past the hills. The yellow stallion finally saw someone else, a familiar yellow mare coming up with her wagon of carrots. "Mornin Carrot Top you want anything" Flapjack said as the mare's wagon passed the stall. "AHHHHHHHH!!!!" She screamed jumping in surprise. Her wagon jumped up a few feet, a few carrots falling to the ground. "It's all right Carrot its just me" he said calmly She abruptly stopped and greeted him cheerfully. "Morning Flapjack" she said as if she had not wailed like a banshee. "Mornin Carrot Top you want anything" he repeated the question. "No I'm good" she continued onto her stall. And again Mixing's Breakfast Stall was open for business.