Short Story of a Pancake

I woke up this morning dreaming of life as an individual, she spoke about pancakes as I recollected the tears which soon fell like syrup. As I deemed away my care from the thought of caring for her I stumbled on an idea that left me as myself and her as well, shit. I sat up walked to the kitchen and began loosely placing pre-made pancake powder in a bowl, once in the bowl I folded the flowery substance upon the counter beside the cutting board. Next as I smoothly flattened the pyramid of crap onto the counter. I poured two and a quarter and an extra half of a quarter of water onto the mixture. Although the instructions said "no egg required" I cracked an egg on the opposite side of the cutting board across from the flowery now water based materials. Once done adding the additives to the packaged goods I heated the pan with a combination of out dated malk and olive oil. Once the pan was hot I removed the oval dimension used for cooking and placed it on the plastic cutting board. Before adding anything into the pan I proceeded to the room of cleanliness, where I released my waste. Next I used a serrated knife to scrap off the egg from the counter, which we had hate sex on last night, into the pan. Following this I added two crushed sleeping pills and the perfect amount of water and pancake mix. Now after removing the cutting board from the bottom of the pan I mixed the mixture together with my hands, the same one’s that I wiped my ass with using no toilet paper. I continued to the stove as I set the pan back for temperature change and added a few crushed nuts and some chocolate chips, her favourite. I emptied the pan onto the floor, lifted it back off and then moved it to the corner where the fridge is place, that is where the crumbs collect. After finishing the pancake and making sure it wasn't too hot I spread syrup over the top as well as a nice fresh cut banana. I thought about getting her out of bed so she could eat of the table but what girl wouldn't love breakfast in bed. I delivered the goods after washing my hands and left her alone to indulge. I proceeded back to the kitchen and without thought poured the rest of the pancake mix onto the stove where the pan use to be and the idiot that I have become followed with the milk. That was the last time I saw her, still to this day I wonder what she did after reading the note I left her. The note of my special pancakes. The one she would of noticed after waking from the smell of the cooked pancake on the stove.