Blueberry Pancakes Pulp Fiction Novels & Stories

It didn’t take much time for me as the servants were there to help me and today they were extra careful around me. The smell of warm batter and blueberries lingered in the air as I set the last dish on the long dining table. Golden pancakes stacked high, drizzled with honey and dotted with berries, sat beside a platter of crisp-edged waffles, while the shirred eggs—still bubbling slightly in their ceramic dishes—added a savory note to the spread.

Hazel replied Maya's face lit up with a warm smile. "Well, you're in luck! Cook made your favorite breakfast dish - blueberry pancakes with fresh cream and berries!" Naya chuckled. "And I'm sure she added an extra batch of bacon, just the way you like it." Hazel's eyes sparkled with delight. "Mmm, that sounds heavenly! I'm so glad I came down here after all." As the ladies chatted, the maids discreetly took their positions, pouring glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice and serving the steaming hot pancakes. The aroma of crispy bacon filled the air, making Hazel's stomach growl with anticipation.

Nothing will taste good, either, not when I feel like I’m going to throw up at any given second. Eventually, the girls wake up and start whining for breakfast. I make pancakes, a favorite of both of them, and use the last of the blueberry syrup. “You’ll have to pick more blueberries this fall,” I tell Shosanna as I shake the bottle for the last drop. Shosanna’s lower lip quivers, but Lora is scarfing down her breakfast, gasping for breath between bites. “Chew your food, Lora. You’re going to choke!” I pour her some more milk, which she gulps down. “Lora!”

40 minutes later: Phew! I wiped my forehead and looked down at my delicious pancakes. I smiled and poured the maple syrup on top before adding some blueberries on the side of the plate. I poured some fresh guava juice on the glass as suddenly Harold switched the lights on of the dining area. I peeked out of the kitchen and saw him sitting on his chair. He opened a paper bag before pulling a bowl out of it. I balanced the plate and glass in my hands and walked out of the kitchen. Harold narrowed his eyes in suspicion as his eyes fell on me. And in return I smiled. I walked towards his side and pushed the bowl aside before placing my pancakes infront of him.

The pancakes are easy to make. Eva watches me, looking exhausted, as if she could spend the rest of the day sleeping. We didn't get anywhere near enough sleep last night. Once the pancakes are ready, I plate them up on two plates along with a good helping of blueberries and maple syrup, passing one plate to Eva. "I am so hungry," she says, eagerly trucking in. I smile. "You'll need your strength, as I'm going to make the most of our last few hours together."

They sat opposite each other an awkward silence lingering. "Hummm hummm!" Dario cleared his throat. "You know Blueberry's are my favourites, they mean a lot to me." He tried to start up a conversation. "Likewise Dennis, he loves blueberry too. I actually made this because of him." Diane replied smartly. Dario frowned at the comment he stared at the black coffee and sausage that accompanied the blueberry pancakes, his next words were slow and calculated like he was scared of appearing weak. "Diane what are you doing?"

Come sit," I say, and she obeys. I lift the lid of the platter, the delicious aroma of honeysuckle pancakes filling the place. Her eyes become teary. Good Lord, this wife of mine. I lean down and drop a kiss on her cheeks. "Don't you dare start crying, woman." She shoves me away and giggles. "I don't want to cry." "Yeah, sure you don't, honey," I sass, making her snort again. "Oh my, are those muffins?!" she squeals, her eyes pinging between mine and the muffins. "Blueberry muffins, to be exact." I flash a smile, hearing my own cockiness. I had been perfecting Coco's delectable blueberry muffins recipe for the past week, and now I'm certain that I'm a pro… hopefully.

CHAPTER 100 ZYLIAH’S POV "You're not going to join the others for breakfast?" I asked, adding sugar and milk to my pancake batter and mixing well. Next, into the mixing bowl I spooned in the strawberry extract. "I'll have whatever you're having." He made himself comfortable on a chair at the island, watching me preheat the pan as I gently poured the batter in. It wasn't long before I had my pancakes with melted chocolate drizzled generously on the tall stack. I'd made too many pancakes; I wasn't sure two people could finish them.

It was quite easy to transform Jane Puckett, scholarship student and chronic coffee drinker, into Jailbird, the mysterious masked dancer in Fantasy Island. The hangover would have to wait. Bills didn't pay themselves.

Lately I’ve been avoiding that one, not wanting to bump into a certain someone. “Libby … how have you managed to get peanut butter in your hair?” I ask, rolling my eyes as she eats her pancake with peanut butter and strawberry jam. With blue eyes, dark brown hair, and dimples, she looks like a younger version of me - it’s uncanny. She looks incredibly cute. She has on a fairy princess outfit with a broken wing behind her as she continues licking the jam off of her pancake.