The Secret Art of Pancakes.

So the secret art of Pancakes is to use crushed flour from a beaten wheat.
I have to say I was disappointed until I asked what a beaten wheat was.
Who knew Wheat was that vile and fleet of foot, here I just thought it was grass- lots, and lots of grass.
Larry serves a stack of them for me, complete with fresh butter from a terrified cow, topped with sweet maple syrup from a strangled tree. Trolls just have a way with food preparation that humans have completely missed.
We eat, the gnome slips back onto the porch to beg for table scraps.
"Please don't kick me anymore."
I ignore him.
"Don't look at me," Larry says around a mouthful the offers me some freshly trampled Orange Juice.
"Thanks."
The gnome reaches for a plate. Larry growls. the gnome snatches his hand away.
"My name is Sprogsgu-"
Larry drops a pancake on his head.
"Thanks," the gnome Sprogsu- says. My name is actually Sprogsgu-"
Larry drops a large pat of butter on him.
"Drammist!" Sprogsgu- sighs, my names is Sprogsgu-"
Larry pours the syrup all over Sprogsgu-.
"Are you happy now?" Sprogsgu- asks.
"Almost," Larry says and whistles.
"Trolls." Sprogsgu- says "This is not funny!" the gnome attempts to wipe some of the syrup off his face. He stops to eat it, then pauses. "Why did you whistle?"
The answer comes in the form of a woof.
"Woof!"
"I think we got that part." The gnome glares at me, then over at the horse sized dog that gallops around the corner.
"I really hate you too." He says before running off with the pancake.