March 31, 2016
Over a week later…

The outside of the Monarossabergie House is vibrant and beautiful under a cloudless morning. Strolling through the front yard is Brandon Montour, dressed in his black shirt, shorts, and shoes. He ambles up to his Jeep, which is parked in the driveway.

“Alright, time to get breakfast,” he mutters as he opens the driver’s door. He hauls himself into the seat and takes a good look at the controls displayed in front of him.

He closes the door, straps his seatbelt across him, and inserts the car’s key into the ignition. He turns the key to start the engine.

Instead of hearing the normal roaring of the engine, he hears a series of clicks: Click, click, click.

Brandon’s eyes wide. “Oh no.” He pushes the key toward the right again.

Click, click, click.

“No, no, no, no, no…!” He straightens the key before digging it deeper.

Click, click, click, click.

Brandon groans and settles back against the backrest. “Ughhh...the battery’s dead.” He peers around both sides, thinking of what to do next. “There’s no car to jump-start it… We’re all hungry…” He sighs. “There’s just one thing to do.”

He unbuckles his seatbelt, opens the car door, and steps down from the vehicle.

He strolls back into the house, kicks off his shoes, and trudges toward the living room.

In the living room, the other two residents of the house are there: Nick Ritchie is taking a nap on the sofa; Joseph Cramarossa is on the reclining chair, scrolling through his smartphone.

When Brandon steps into the living room, he grabs Joseph’s attention.

“Wow, that was quick,” he says flatly, craning his head to get a good view of his teammate.

“I didn’t even go.” Brandon begins sauntering back toward the kitchen.

Joseph follows him with his eyes. “What? Why?”

Brandon parks himself behind the countertop in the kitchen. “The car’s dead.”

He presses his lips. “So now what?”

Brandon shrugs. “I guess I’m gonna have to cook.”

He shoots him a disgusted expression. “Your cooking’s terrible.”

“So do you want to cook?” Brandon asks him with a cocked eyebrow.

Joseph responds with a scowl.

“Well, I guess I’m cooking then.” With that, he spins around and walks across the kitchen to the sink, where the pans are located.

---

Lunchtime rolls around and Brandon finally finishes cooking up lunch: chicken and mashed potatoes.

With his other two roommates sitting around the circular dining table, Brandon settles the pan of chicken and pot of mashed potatoes in the middle.

The other two peer into the dishes in curiosity as to what their roommate cooked for them. Yet their intrigued gazes quickly morph into distasteful glares.

The chicken is the equivalent of a massive charcoal stone. The mashed potatoes do not look any better as Nick stirs the serving spoon inside their pot and gets it stuck in there.

The two roommate stare sternly at the creator of the food.

The chef returns to them a nervous grin. “I tried, okay?” he squeaks out.

“Don’t even try to make something else. We already lost our appetite,” Joseph tells him dully.

---

The day has passed and another day has come.

After getting ready for the day, Brandon is strolling down the hallway with his eyes on his phone.

His phone is opened to a page showing an easy pancake recipe.

He lifts his eyes up and takes a deep breath. “Okay. I’m going to do this.” He halts next to the opening on the wall to his right, which is showing the kitchen. He turns his head to face it. “I am going to make good pancakes. Edible pancakes.”

With a nod of his head, he continues his march to the kitchen. He approaches the culinary section of the house and rounds the countertop.

He sets his phone on the smooth surface of the island. He then quickly pulls open the silverware drawer and plucks out a wooden spoon from the back of it.

He takes a good look at the culinary utensil and nods at it. “Let’s do this.”

---

Almost an hour later, a plate is set on the dining table.

Sitting around the table, Joseph and Nick stare at contents of the plate in shock.

Piled up beautifully, in all of its glory, are fluffy, golden, circular pancakes topped with a sharp square of butter and drizzled with maple syrup.

Brandon stands behind the pancakes with crossed arms, observing and anticipating his roommates’ reactions.

The two continue staring at the pancakes with their jaws dropped.

Joseph then slowly lifts his head up to face the chef of the pancakes. “Where did you get these?”

Behind him, Nick serves himself a couple of pancakes onto his plate. He begins consuming them.

“Nowhere—” Brandon shrugs. “I made them.”

Joseph leans back, blinking in confusion.”You— That— What—” He straightens up as a way to compose himself. “You made these?” he asks sternly.

“Yeah…” Brandon lowers himself on the seat next to Joseph. He then places a pancake on his plate, cuts a piece, and pops it in his mouth. He feels a buzzing sensation zip through him, yet his eyes immediately fly open due to the taste. “Whoa--” He swallows. “--these ARE good.” He whirls to his roommate. “I made these?!”

Joseph serves himself a pancake and takes a bite with his fork. He gazes up while chewing to taste it fully. He senses a buzzing feeling swirl through him before he swallows. He ignores it, turning to the chef. “These are good. You should cook more often.”

Brandon gives him a smile. “Thanks!”

“Yeah—” He nods to his plate. “I think you beat the Pancake House here, Monty.”

Brandon flashes a proud grin. “Oh, thanks!”

Nick leans over to face the other two. “Is there any syrup?” he asks with a sleepy tone.

“I’ll get some for you.” Joseph promptly pushes himself to his feet and saunters into the kitchen.

Brandon follows him with his eyes as he approaches the fridge. His face is displaying complete shock at his sudden act of generosity toward Nick.

Joseph pulls the glass bottle of maple syrup from the refrigerator, closes it, and returns to the dining table.

He sits back down and plunks the bottle between him and Nick. “Here you go, Ritch.”

“Yay!” With a small smile, Nick takes the bottle and pours its contents all over the pancakes on his plate.

After taking another bite of his pancake, Brandon pulls out his smartphone from his pocket and peers at the time displayed on it. “We gotta leave in—”

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock! Knock, knock! comes from the door.

Brandon jumps out from his seat. “I’ll get it!” He rushes through the living room, into the foyer, and skids to a halt in front of the front floor. He throws the door open.

On the other side is one of the shortest and exuberant skaters on the Gulls: Bryan Moore.

“The fun has arrived!” Bryan bellows, throwing his hands out from his sides. “And can roll on wheels!” He pivots to his left, stepping out Brandon’s view to see what is behind him.

Sitting on the road in front of the house is the small Cooper belonging to Joe Piskula, the captain of the San Diego Gulls. Inside the car is Joe himself, who is in the driver’s seat, and Stu Bickel, Bryan’s friend, who is in the passenger’s seat. They wave to Brandon.

Brandon waves back. Joseph appears behind him, munching on a pancake at hand.

Bryan then slides back into his view, blocking the car. “Because we heard your cries of a broken car, we have come to the rescue—” He spots the pancake Joseph is eating, immediately getting distracted: “OOO!!! Are those pancakes?!”

Joseph swallows. “Yeah—” He holds it out toward him. “You want some? You should have some, they’re really good.” He takes another bite.

Bryan eyes the treat in awe. “Whoa, really?!”

“Yeah, help yourself.” Brandon nods toward the kitchen’s direction.

“Yes!” Right away, Bryan zooms into the dining room.

There, he spots the pile of pancakes sitting perfectly to be consumed. He snags the rest of the pile greedily, then spins around to face the two roommates as they are ambling back into their home.

“Thank youuu!!!” Bryan sing-songs happily. He then takes a single pancake and tears a piece off with his teeth. “Mmmm! These are good!” He then swallows. “Thanks for letting me have them!”

Joseph nods to him. “No problem.”

“Well, let’s hit the road--” Bryan nods toward the front door’s direction. “--don’t wanna be late!”

“Alright, let’s go,” Joseph states as he makes his way back toward the front door.


A few moments later, the three residents of the Monarossabergie House are clamouring into the back of Joe’s Cooper for a carpool ride.

“Hey, Stu. Hey, Joe!” Joseph greets as he slides into the back seat.

Stu shifts his body to get a good view of his teammate. “'Sup, Joey.” He holds out his fist.

Joseph presses his fist against his as a fist pump.

“Hello, boys!” Joe chimes in cheerily as he watches the others climb into his car through the rear view mirror. “Are you ready for a super duper fun ride to the practice rink?”

“Yeah!” Joseph exclaims.

Bryan closes the door next to him since he is the last one to get in. “These guys gave us pancakes—” He holds up the pancakes he took with both hands. “You want some?”

Joe’s eyebrows shoot up with interest. “Sure!”

Stu raises his hand out at him. “No thanks— I’m on a diet.”

Bryan hands a pancake to the driver.

Joe receives it with delight. “Ooo, light and fluffy, just like the Pancake House!” he exclaims as he feels its soft texture. He then takes a bite out of it. “Mmmm...” He swallows. “Thanks for the pancakes, they’re really good.”

With that, he shifts the car to drive and begins the carpool trip east to Poway for a session of practice.

Notes

E.14 "What A Great Dish!"
Part 1/7
Episode 14/20