Quarry resting, still for minutes,

'Til I reached my human limits.

Listen, I was…, to say…, “hangry”,

But my wife’s now hot and Red Hulk angry.

Come folks nigh! Did I cross the line…?

Nary, ‘twas fate that did consign,

To me, the last cocoa pancake,

Oh true destined path I surely take.

That endless fluffy, golden bake,

Trapped alone on my innocent plate.

Languishing for way too long a while,

The result of my wife’s knowing smile.

You see, I feel she holds a brilliant card,

Upon which she’ll play me like a bard.

A wicked scheme to unfold, so neat,

She hath planned mine absolute defeat.

Pray tell I’ve learned her little secret,

And why the pancake, lo, she let me keep it.

Clever game she silently play,

Feign letting me think to have my way.

Hiding a treasure trove from plain sight.

Whilst she waits to claim her tasty bite.

Oh, what a sneaky thing’s she gone and done,

Thefting the maple syrup and ground cinnamon!