The Moose Who Made Fried Eggs


Once upon a time, there was a young boy named Mac, whose mother asked him to go to market to find some mousse.

As is often the case with young boys, Mac misunderstood that his mother was asking for hair products and instead found a moose at the market. When Mac returned home, his mother was furious.

However, the next morning, Mac and his mother woke up to find the moose MAKING BREAKFAST.

They couldn’t believe their eyes (and noses, and taste buds!).

The moose was an excellent chef. His specialty was fried eggs– always done to perfection! He’d put the eggs on potatoes, and sandwiches, and hamburgers (which are technically also sandwiches, but honestly deserve to be placed in their own category).

That summer, Mac decided to take the moose into town to see if the two could open a restaurant. However, no one would give them a loan unless they could prove that the moose could actually cook without being a health hazard. For years, the moose worked at a diner, making half the money he deserved, just to prove himself.

The moose was obviously a talent. His fried egg dishes were famous far and wide throughout the land. However, Mac was growing older and soon met a beautiful girl and the two were married. He forgot all about his dear friend, moose.

The moose was exploited and treated as if he were a freak because he had no one to defend him or speak on his behalf. He was locked in a cage and forced to cook only what people ordered which stifled his creativity. He was an artist, for goodness sake!

But one day, Mac remembered the moose. How could he have forgotten? Alas, Mac finally found the moose penned up behind the diner at which he’d been left many years ago.

“Moose!” Mac cried, “You are a treasure and can make fried eggs! What are you doing here, as a prisoner?”

This, of course, was a rhetorical questions because moose can’t speak.

But Mac could see that the moose had been here for many years and because of his extraordinary talents, the moose had been metaphorically torn apart and exploited for his rare abilities. The moose was tired and broken and weary.

Mac decided that he and his wife would take the moose from this terrible place and find a dream worthy of his talents. They also gave the moose a name: Donald. Certainly, this would restore his dignity.

As the years passed, Donald worked hard developing recipes in a kitchen perfectly designed for his unique stature. Soon, he and Mac opened a restaurant named after the two of them: McDonald’s. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?

So, the boy and the moose lived happily ever after.

And if you’re ever wondering why your Egg McMuffin tastes particularly fried, or you cannot order a milkshake because the ice cream machine is down, it’s probably because a moose is frying the eggs or because moose have hooves and can’t work an ice cream machine, duh.




Flapjack and the Beanstalk


Once upon a time, there was a pancake.

This pancake’s name was Flapjack.

Unfortunately, Flapjack was an only child.

Now, being an only child is not unfortunate in and of itself, but Flapjack’s situation was rather grim. You see, Flapjack used to have many siblings, but, over time, they had all been eaten by birds or had burnt to a crisp because someone had forgotten to properly grease the pan.

Fortunately, Flapjack did live with his mother (Please do not ask about how it’s biologically possible for Flapjack to have a mother. The nature of pancake reproduction is not yet well understood by science and will probably turn up some pretty whacked up Google search results).

Anyways, Flapjack lived with his mother and they spent most of their days gardening, making and selling Flapjack’s mother’s famous syrups, and avoiding bird attacks.

One summer, a drought griddled the land and their garden, which was usually full of berries of all types– raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, strawberries– suffered greatly. In fact, Flapjack’s mother told Flapjack:

“Quick! Take all of the preserves we’ve stored up for such a time as this and sell them in the city.”

Flapjack was taken aback. He was not allowed to go into the city and these preserves were his mother’s pride and joy at each annual festival.

“But mother,” Flapjack replied, “How much must I sell them for?”

“My dear, you must sell these preserves to only the most wealthy in the town– the richest omelettes and danishes you can find, famous people like Eggs Benedict Cumberbatch, and even sell preserves to influential politicians leaving the International House of Pancakes and the Waffle House of Representatives if you must! Take no less than one bar of gold for all of these preserves.”

It is worth noting that, in this realm, they actually used butter as currency, so when Flapjack’s mother said, “one bar of gold,”she meant a stick of butter. And, to put into perspective how dire this whole situation was for Flapjack and his mother, I will use this metaphor: They had started substituting vegetable oil for butter about two months ago.

Flapjack set out the next morning, with five jars of his mother’s famous preserves.

The journey to the city was a harrowing one for young Flapjack, especially as pancakes have no hands, so he just kind of had to kick the jars of preserves down the path to city.

But no sooner had he entered the city, than Flapjack heard someone call to him,

“Hey! Pancake kid! Whatcha got there?”

Flapjack turned to see a large poppy seed muffin smiling at him.

Growing up, Flapjack’s mother had always taught him never to speak to strangers– especially strangers who had been influenced by poppy seeds. But Flapjack also knew that, if this guy was willing to buy the preserves, his mother probably would not care.

“Um, I have some preserves, sir,” Flapjack hesitated.

“How much are you selling them for?” the muffin asked.

“I am selling these preserves to get seeds for our garden and was told to take no less than one gold bar for the lot of them.”

The muffin laughed at Flapjack, which was entirely condescending and rude because Flapjack was just a kid and had no concept of currency.

“Tell you what, kid,” the muffin responded, “I’ll give you the seeds you need in exchange for those preserves. How does that sound?”

That actually sounded pretty good to Flapjack.

“That actually sounds pretty good to me,” Flapjack said. So Flapjack handed the jars of preserves to the muffin and the muffin handed five bean-like seeds to Flapjack.

“What in the name of Aunt Jemima are these things?!” Flapjack asked incredulously, “FIVE seeds?! You’re only giving me FIVE SEEDS??”

“Wait just a minute,” the muffin answered, “These are not just any seeds, these are magic seeds!”

Magic seeds?

Flapjack was not sure if he should believe this muffin. After all, it could just be the poppy seeds talking. Or, he could be lying. Or, yeah, it probably was the poppy seeds.

But… What if he wasn’t lying? Then, Flapjack and his mother could make a life for themselves with these magic seeds.

“Okay. I’ll take the seeds. I have no reason to believe you at all, but I’m scared and want to go home, so I’ll take the seeds.”

And Flapjack took the seeds.

When he got home, Flapjack hopped to his mother, excited to tell her of the day’s adventures. But all she wanted to know was how much gold he had gotten for her prized preserves.

“Mother,” Flapjack said, “I’ve brought you something much better than gold–”

“Nothing can be better than gold!” mother responded. And, even if she was referring to butter, rather than gold, she was right. Butter is the best.

“I was given magic beans in exchange for the preserves I sold! Now we will be the most magical house in all of the land!” Flapjack exclaimed.

Flapjack’s mother sizzled with anger. In fact, she was so upset that she took the beans from Flapjack and threw them out the window. This was inconsiderate, but also understandable considering their present situation.

That night, Flapjack went to sleep without his usual dinner of blueberries with a side of maple syrup– mostly because they were out of both, and were too poor to buy any more because of his wise choices (THAT WAS SARCASM GUYS. HIS CHOICES WERE VERY VERY DUMB).

Early the next morning, Flapjack looked out of his bedroom window and noticed that he could no longer see out of his bedroom window.

It was being blocked by something.

Something green.

And it wasn’t a dragon.

Or a dinosaur.

Or even a very large pepper.


The magic beans had taken root during the night and had grown into an enormous beanstalk stretching toward the sky!

Flapjack hopped outside to get a better look and saw that, at the bottom of the beanstalk, there was a very large elevator. This beanstalk truly was magical.

He climbed into the elevator and it took him to the top of the beanstalk, 1,000 stories above ground. Actually, he didn’t know how many stories it was. What? He wasn’t an architect, he was a pancake. You should be impressed that a pancake even knows how to use an elevator.

Once at the top, Flapjack could see that he wasn’t alone. In fact, he had happened upon an entire city of giants! To the giants, Flapjack looked like a piece of breakfast cereal, or one of those pancake drips that just look like baby pancakes. This was especially convenient because it meant that Flapjack could get around, virtually undetected.

He began raiding fridges around the town for gold– a tablespoon here, a tablespoon there. And no giant was the wiser because who the heck remembers how much butter they have in the fridge anyway? No one.

Flapjack soon went back down to his house, with mounds and mounds of butter–er, gold– in tow.

If you had only seen the look on Flapjack’s mother’s face! Actually, you’ve probably seen it at Denny’s a few times if you order off the kids menu… That’s beside the point. Suffice it to say, his mother was very happy.

And for weeks, Flapjack would go up the beanstalk to get more gold.

As Flapjack and his mother grew richer and richer, the giants of the beanstalk had lower and lower cholesterol levels.

But one day, the giants noticed that there was an elevator on their beanstalk. And the funny thing about elevators is that they go up…

…and down.

Giants began to pile onto the elevator one by one.

Flapjack awoke as the first giant’s arrival shook the village. He ran to wake his mother, but she was already hiding all the gold she could carry in their safe (which is basically just a refrigerator with a padlock on it).

The two pancakes devised a plan to hide in their cellar until the giants had eaten and pillaged all they could.

When the giants were finished, they went back up the beanstalk and went to sleep, full and with higher cholesterol levels than ever before from binge eating so much breakfast food.

Flapjack and his mother were virtually the only ones left in their village.

But they would not allow other villages to be affected the way theirs had been. Flapjack and his mother decided that they would cut down the beanstalk in their yard, which would cause the giants to plummet to their deaths.

The two worked all night to chop down the beanstalk. It took all night because they only had butter knives in the house. But their plan worked nonetheless and the beanstalk came crashing to the ground! Because of the enormity of the beanstalk, the village of giants actually landed in another kingdom altogether and, if you must know, the giants were not killed. In fact, it was from these giants that Paul Bunyan descended– which would explain why lumberjacks like pancakes so dang much.

Flapjack and his mother were very sad for a time because all of their friends had been eaten.

But then, Flapjack’s mother realized that this meant her preserves would win at the festival every year!

And, although that was kind of morbid, Flapjack knew if his mother was happy, then everyone was happy.

So Flapjack lived happily ever after.