When we were growing up, Mom liked to grind wheat. I would often find myself waking up to the grinder noise, and in the coming days find myself face to face with a wheat pancake. They were disgusting. Absolutely the worst thing ever. I couldn't understand what people were talking about when they spoke favorably about pancakes.
I think i was about 13 when i discovered that not all pancakes are nasty, i just happened to grow up with the nasty kind. To this day i hold no grudge on the pancake community, for i now know there are good amongst the evil, just trying to fight for their yumminess for the benefit of all man kind.
A few days ago i heard the familiar wheat grinder, as my roommate makes homemade bread every once in a while. I came down the stairs and discovered that my roommate had made me a wheat pancake, her favorite (somehow), weighing about 10 pounds and full of little pieces of wheat. I tried to eat it, but i got tired and bored. It filled me up after three bites. I ended up making an "M," and finishing it after a little break. I didn't eat for two days afterword.
Oh, also i got these really great skull shoes.