The Mystery of the Pumpkin Pancake

The Mystery of the Pumpkin Pancake

Three things I love about October: The Pumpkin Spice Latte at Starbucks, Apple Hill in Placerville, and Pumpkin Pancakes. Three things I hate are the colds that come with the weather, the lack of sleep that comes with the cold, and the loss of a voice that comes with both. With that being said, let’s hop in a time machine and step back to October of 2010. 

I was a senior at St. Patrick-St. Vincent High School in Vallejo and had one of the worst colds ever. Seriously, I sounded like those people who advocate against smoking because of what it did to them. Anyways, so here I am, hopped up on daytime cough syrup and getting very little sleep. In a fit of desperation to catch up on my Zs, I caved and bought NyQuil. Oh man, does that shit knock you out! I fell asleep on the couch and not once did I ever wake up until my alarm shouted out Circle of Life to tell me it was time to get ready for school.

The first thing I noticed as I sat up and stretched was that the house smelled like pumpkin. All I could think of was, “Woah! Mom’s the best! Pumpkin pancakes on a weekday! She must feel bad that I’m sick.” 

I rushed over to the kitchen and opened the fridge, but to my dismay, there were no pancakes to be found. Then it clicked. She must have put them in the oven to keep them warm! I ran to the oven and threw open the door, but still, there were no pancakes. But wait, the microwave! Crossing my fingers, I opened the door, but the pancakes were not there.   

Holding back tears with my head hung low, I turned the corner and began my journey past the couch and up the stairs to my room to get ready for school. As I approached the couch I noticed a giant black hole in the ground and a pillow melted into it. 

I shook my head in confusion and all I could think of was, “What the hell happened last night while I was passed out on NyQuil?”

Realizing I was now late for school, I hurried upstairs, got dressed, and continued with my day, but I could not get the image of the melted pillow out of my head. Also, what happened to the pumpkin pancakes, and why couldn’t I find them?! 

At the end of the school day, I sat on the couch waiting for the arrival of my mother and hoping she had a little insight into what happened. 

At 4pm, she walked through the door, but before I had the chance to address the hole in the floor, she spoke. “I see you got the chance to look at your masterpiece.”

Umm, what!? 

She then continued with the following: “I lit a pumpkin scented candle and put it on the coffee table. I walked away for five minutes and you managed to throw a pillow in your sleep, knocking the candle off the table, and set fire to the floor by your head. What kind of cough syrup did you take!? You just rolled over and slept through the whole thing!”

My jaw instantly dropped as I responded with, “You mean to tell me you didn’t make me pumpkin pancakes?”

At the end of the day, I made myself some pumpkin pancakes for dinner and sat on the couch near my masterpiece. I shook my head and laughed at the situation as my mom looked at me and muttered, “Well at least we can get new floors now.”

So here is a bit of advice for anyone who is reading: If you are going to take NyQuil, be sure to tell the people in the house. You never know what could happen.