Waffling About
rating: +141+x

Clef's dreams were shattered when his alarm decided to scream in his face. His eyes cracked open as a lazy hand fumbled to turn off the alarm. Another day, another 5AM start, and another struggle to get out of the comfort of his bed.

"Shut up," he grumbled, his hand still trying to find the snooze button for the alarm. In the end, he knocked the clock to the floor. It beeped its last beep, coaxing a pleased grunt from its owner. Although the funny-eyed man was comfy in his bed, he knew that he had to get up.

It was a special day.

It was waffle day and there was not a chance in hell that he'd miss his favorite breakfast, not again.

Clef slowly sat up in his bed, stretching his arms out and cracking his back before he got up. Across his room lay strewn various clothing items and useless papers. It was normal, but he could never help but feel slightly guilty about the state of his room.

The thought quickly passed as he made his way out of his room and to his little kitchen. It was waffle time, and there was no point pouting over something like the mess on the floors right now. Even though it was getting really bad…

Clef opened a kitchen cupboard. A Cheshire smile crawled across his face at the sight of at least 5 packets of waffles laying on the shelves. He pulled out a pack and opened it, causing one to fall on the floor. "Oop— 5 second rule," he chirped, bending down slowly to pick up the fallen waffle comrade to wipe it off on his blue pajamas.

Into the toaster they went. The entire packet of 4 waffles, including the floor waffle. Clef pushed down the little lever on the side of the toaster and in they went to cook. He didn't bother going anywhere whilst they cooked. He loved the smell that came out of the toaster as they got warmer and warmer.

A few moments later and POP! went the toaster. Clef jolted a little but laughed it off. "Silly ass toaster," he mumbled, still not fully awake. The waffles were finally ready!

He grabbed a plate from another cupboard and pulled the waffles from the toaster, not caring how much he burned his fingers in the process.


On to the plate they went, one by one, and piled on top of each other in a proud waffle tower.

The old man near threw himself on to his couch. There was a maple syrup bottle on the coffee table that he'd gotten ready the night before. He grabbed the bottle and squirted syrup all over his waffles.

At last, Clef could eat his waffles. The beginning of a good, productive day, started with golden brown waffles. He didn't bother with a knife or a fork; most of them were dirty and in the sink (or on the floor). He just picked up a syrup-covered waffle in his hand and started to chow down. Any syrup that dripped on his PJs was quickly scooped up with a bit of waffle.

"And then of course, I started getting too much syrup on my PJs, so I had to take them off sloooowly—"

O5-8 interrupted. "As fascinating as it would be to listen to you try to turn that soft, sagging body into an object of erotic fixation, I think we're going to get back to the matter at hand. I'll ask you again, and no tales about "Waffle Time". What have you been doing since you left the site on the 8th, over 60 hours ago?"

Sensing that his ability to bullshit might not carry him through this, Clef tried again. "Well, that's an incredible tale of mystery and wonder I call 'Lord Shittington Drops The Kids At The Pool'—"

Clef winced as his superior's lips thinned significantly.

"And why are significant portions of Atlantic City, New Jersey, including the casino that happens to be the site of the last recorded activity on your credit card, on fire?"

Clef swallowed deeply. "I can promise this was vaguely work-related."

"Is that 'work' in any way related to a document on your desk labeled 'My Master Gambling plan'?" O5-8 held up a forestalling hand as Dr. Clef opened his mouth. "No, enough. It's my finding that you are in gross dereliction of your duties as Director of Site 66, and the following restrictions are to be placed upon you—"

The O5 was cut off as Clef produced a waffle out of one of his lab coat pockets. It was already half eaten and still covered in dry syrup, which had stained his pocket and picked up god only knows what. A crunching sound broke the silence between the O5 and Clef as he started to eat it.

O5-8 finally piped up. "The following restrictions are—"

He was cut off again by Clef making eye contact whilst slowly eating the stale waffle. O5-8 did not have the time nor patience for this. "Out," he said firmly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just get out, Clef."

Clef grinned with a large amount of waffle still in his mouth and stuck to his teeth. He placed what remained of the waffle on O5-8's desk as if it was some sort of parting gift and left the office with a small skip in his step…

… And another waffle from another pocket.

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