The Flamin Special

Flamin's pancake special.  The £0.69p price tag had me curious; so I ordered and awaited the consequences.

The delivery was quick and swift, almost like Hermes himself had hand delivered these pancakes through my letterbox.
Staring at the bottom of my door, I began to wonder what resided inside the yellowy-orange Styrofoam.  There was no description, no ingredients list.
Only Schrödinger's pancakes.

Gathering up the takeaway box and what I assume to be a receipt (A small scrunched piece of paper haphazardly taped to the side with the logo somewhat drawn in red crayon), into my mother's basement very cool bedroom, I prepare myself for the following 6 minutes and 27.8 seconds.

Never before have I tried such godlike pancakes.  Four puffed discs with a syrup of some kind; it shines almost like it is communicating. Or it could be that I've forgotten to take my meds.  Ignoring the demon syrup I proceed to finish the pancakes.

From the first bite, I was bestowed with the meaning of life; information that humans, at least not in this time period, are supposed to know.
I cannot even fathom what words are needed to explain, what was that syrup? Who is Speedy? Were these pancakes?

As I'm writing this, my webcam turned on and there is a knocking at the door.

In the words of my hero, Ralph Wiggam, "I'm in danger"

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