she then took the frying pan and hit him over and over again until the crimson of his head mixed with the burned borders of the pan. A pan wasn’t a good weapon choice she thought
Silver flash, the morning light hitting the pan, making its scratched, battle-hardened surface look like a precious commodity rather than the tool that it was. Just for a moment, I pretended that I held treasure in my hands and not a tool. But there was work to be done, breakfast to be made. And for that a tool was a thousand times more useful than some pretty bauble.
I am a lost boy, and I was found by Peter Pan. Pan found me when I wasn’t looking to be found and yet here I am, in Neverland. I hope to never find myself lost again when I am here. Neverland is home.
I took the dishes and pots and pans out of the cabinets. It was time to redecorate and get the place looking new. When Lee left, it cleared a lot of the bad memories and I wanted to make sure that nothing reminded me of them.
Her voice was screaming out to me, an endless sound echoing over and over. “How dare you!” she screamed. She looked truly terrible. The woman held a frying pan in her hands, and her fat rolls creased underneath the nauseating paisley fabric of her dress. She looked feminine, but she was anything but it.
“Got myself a hunk of meat,” sang Anna coarsely as she swayed her hips against her frayed apron. “Put it in a pan. Gonna spice it up and then eat it like a man!”
This was her beloved “I’m A Carnivore” song, one she had made up as a teen, and one she continually brought up whenever we prepared our own steak dinners. I loved it; my father was annoyed by it.
Out of the skillet and into the fire, that’s what her Grandmama would’ve said.
Now, her Grandmama would’ve said the whole thing was a fool’s errand to begin with. That all of her wonderful reasons were a crock of bull too. And after she’d spent all that time getting all her little ducks in a row. Grandmama wouldn’t said she had nothing to show for it.
Just because the situation hadn’t panned out like she expected didn’t mean she’d wasted all the effort. She’d just found another way NOT to win a war.
it reminds me of the word “bread,” bit its translation to spanish. it also make sme think of my grandmother and her neighborhood bakery store. amazig memories that coe to mind. spending an amazing afternnon at home chatting and
I smell breakfast heralding a new day. My eyes open to the warm sunbeams streaming through the window and I must smile. It’s Sunday.
We don’t do church, but we do pull out a big breakfast with the kids every Sunday. This is our religion.
Frying in the pan were a couple of eggs. The flame was too hot, and the eggs were sticking to the bottom, but the shiny-eyed old man didn’t seem to notice or care. He pushed the food around with a wooden spoon, slowly prodding at it while it turned from yellow to a charred brown. Just as a particularly dark piece of egg flew over the pan’s edge, the old man’s pants fell, hitting the floor around his ankles with a soft “phhoooshhh”.
It was natural. She did it naturally. So out of the fire into the pan then grasped by the hand and taken past the mouth. It slides by molars down the throat to the gut where the bomb explodes!
Hits him like a rolling blast of betrayal. He should have guessed none of it had been meant for him. Food grown for the mind exponentially poisons the pin worm. He drowns he does as his lungs fill with blood. It pours from his eyes and ears and even from the ass, his organs melt, slip right out, you’ve never seen anything so painful as the rear view ablation for an apocalyptic soul.
pans are very hard, and are great comedy props. Although people may see them as only a cooking tool, there is so much more to it. cooking, frying, grilling, and joys of laughter. its quite insane how useful they are.
I threw the pan across the island, aiming directly for his head. He always does this, pisses me off then tries to play innocent. Not tonight, though. Nope. Tonight he’s going to pay.
I reach for the butcher knife on the counter in front of me and start to make my way around the island. He’s laughing now, thinking I’m just being silly.
In greens and grays he saved the day. A shadowed pal followed always close behind. A twinkle in his eye and by his side as he said goodnight. “Goodnight. Goodnight, ” said Peter Pan.
My roommate does the dishes more often than I do. It’s a constant source of aggravation and conflict in our house. Who’s going to wash that pan? Who’s going to clean up all the glasses you left on the floor. I haven’t cooked food for myself in over two weeks.
I like Peter Pan. I liked any pan but the ones we had to cook in every night; at least, the ones I had to cook in every night. All the way from third grade until into high school, until the old man died and we all went our separate, crazy ways. Michael went to Florida for no reason anyone could understand; he didn’t know anything about Florida except that it was warm and the women barely wore any clothes. Tom split for California, with his bossy bitch girlfriend, which all I could say about was good riddance. We had another sibling; I don’t talk about her because she wound up being a traitor and a liar and she cheated on me with my boyfriend, not because she liked him, but because she thought it was cool to make herself feel better than other people. She stuck around the house until the old lady made her get a job, which she couldn’t believe because she was supposed to find someone with money who would take care of her; who needed a job, she figured. Me, I wound up going straight down, falling and falling and falling and not really getting up for a long time. The pans were gone; I wasn’t acting like a slave to the rest of the lazy bastard siblings I had to put up with. Yeah. It all panned out.
She hit him across the face with the cast iron pan that had been passed down from her great, great, grandmother. She had a brief thought in that microsecond that perhaps her great, great grandmother had once imagined using the skillet for the same purpose and not making pork chops.
“The gingerbread cow looked around, and not seeing anyone jumped out of the pan. She ran through the kitchen door under the sofa, along the wall and out the front door as fast as her little legs could carry her. Suddenly there was a shout from the kitchen. “Hey!? Where did my ginger bread cow go?” Without looking back the cow suddenly got a burst of adrenaline and ran faster and faster down the lane.” all the kids gasped, “did she get away?” they asked the librarian, eyes wide and looking up at her, “well i don’t know, we’ll just have to wait and see!” She smiled back at the and continued to read….
I took the pan from the cupboard, drizzled olive oil and added eggs. I love eggs with olive oil. The eggs cooked to perfection were devoured by my two sleepy kids as we prepared for the school day. I used an odd pan though. It was not for frying.
I crack open the large packet of raw bacon and throw it into the sizzling pan. Layering the strips like the top crust on a pie, I start to hear the popping of the delicious meat.
The silver pan was very good at bashing people on the heads with and one day the pan saw a really annoying person so the pan bashed him on the head and left him without a head
A pan reminds me of a cooking pan that you use to make yummy food. This pan reminds me of how my mom and me always used to make good food for my family and how we enjoyed it. We used to make rice and then steak. This would make a legendary meal.
I like to cook eggs in a pan
I hit landon in the head with a pan.
A pan is shiny
Camerons hair shines like a silver pan.
Peters last name is Pan
Bacon smells good in a pan
I like pnas
she then took the frying pan and hit him over and over again until the crimson of his head mixed with the burned borders of the pan. A pan wasn’t a good weapon choice she thought
Silver flash, the morning light hitting the pan, making its scratched, battle-hardened surface look like a precious commodity rather than the tool that it was. Just for a moment, I pretended that I held treasure in my hands and not a tool. But there was work to be done, breakfast to be made. And for that a tool was a thousand times more useful than some pretty bauble.
I am a lost boy, and I was found by Peter Pan. Pan found me when I wasn’t looking to be found and yet here I am, in Neverland. I hope to never find myself lost again when I am here. Neverland is home.
I took the dishes and pots and pans out of the cabinets. It was time to redecorate and get the place looking new. When Lee left, it cleared a lot of the bad memories and I wanted to make sure that nothing reminded me of them.
Her voice was screaming out to me, an endless sound echoing over and over. “How dare you!” she screamed. She looked truly terrible. The woman held a frying pan in her hands, and her fat rolls creased underneath the nauseating paisley fabric of her dress. She looked feminine, but she was anything but it.
“Got myself a hunk of meat,” sang Anna coarsely as she swayed her hips against her frayed apron. “Put it in a pan. Gonna spice it up and then eat it like a man!”
This was her beloved “I’m A Carnivore” song, one she had made up as a teen, and one she continually brought up whenever we prepared our own steak dinners. I loved it; my father was annoyed by it.
Out of the skillet and into the fire, that’s what her Grandmama would’ve said.
Now, her Grandmama would’ve said the whole thing was a fool’s errand to begin with. That all of her wonderful reasons were a crock of bull too. And after she’d spent all that time getting all her little ducks in a row. Grandmama wouldn’t said she had nothing to show for it.
Just because the situation hadn’t panned out like she expected didn’t mean she’d wasted all the effort. She’d just found another way NOT to win a war.
it reminds me of the word “bread,” bit its translation to spanish. it also make sme think of my grandmother and her neighborhood bakery store. amazig memories that coe to mind. spending an amazing afternnon at home chatting and
Pans are metal, bright, scalded, light, heavy, weaponry, blunt instrument, food maker, food, baker, provider, divider, inexpensive, beyond expensive. Pans.
I am thinking of a pan of pizza right now. Yeah, right at this moment, this morning. I am craving.
She gripped the warm pan handle and watched the bacon sizzle sharply. “I want a divorce,” she said. “Pass the bacon,” he said.
I smell breakfast heralding a new day. My eyes open to the warm sunbeams streaming through the window and I must smile. It’s Sunday.
We don’t do church, but we do pull out a big breakfast with the kids every Sunday. This is our religion.
Frying in the pan were a couple of eggs. The flame was too hot, and the eggs were sticking to the bottom, but the shiny-eyed old man didn’t seem to notice or care. He pushed the food around with a wooden spoon, slowly prodding at it while it turned from yellow to a charred brown. Just as a particularly dark piece of egg flew over the pan’s edge, the old man’s pants fell, hitting the floor around his ankles with a soft “phhoooshhh”.
1pan = Purveying Attributes Nominally
It was natural. She did it naturally. So out of the fire into the pan then grasped by the hand and taken past the mouth. It slides by molars down the throat to the gut where the bomb explodes!
Hits him like a rolling blast of betrayal. He should have guessed none of it had been meant for him. Food grown for the mind exponentially poisons the pin worm. He drowns he does as his lungs fill with blood. It pours from his eyes and ears and even from the ass, his organs melt, slip right out, you’ve never seen anything so painful as the rear view ablation for an apocalyptic soul.
pans are very hard, and are great comedy props. Although people may see them as only a cooking tool, there is so much more to it. cooking, frying, grilling, and joys of laughter. its quite insane how useful they are.
I threw the pan across the island, aiming directly for his head. He always does this, pisses me off then tries to play innocent. Not tonight, though. Nope. Tonight he’s going to pay.
I reach for the butcher knife on the counter in front of me and start to make my way around the island. He’s laughing now, thinking I’m just being silly.
In greens and grays he saved the day. A shadowed pal followed always close behind. A twinkle in his eye and by his side as he said goodnight. “Goodnight. Goodnight, ” said Peter Pan.
My roommate does the dishes more often than I do. It’s a constant source of aggravation and conflict in our house. Who’s going to wash that pan? Who’s going to clean up all the glasses you left on the floor. I haven’t cooked food for myself in over two weeks.
I like Peter Pan. I liked any pan but the ones we had to cook in every night; at least, the ones I had to cook in every night. All the way from third grade until into high school, until the old man died and we all went our separate, crazy ways. Michael went to Florida for no reason anyone could understand; he didn’t know anything about Florida except that it was warm and the women barely wore any clothes. Tom split for California, with his bossy bitch girlfriend, which all I could say about was good riddance. We had another sibling; I don’t talk about her because she wound up being a traitor and a liar and she cheated on me with my boyfriend, not because she liked him, but because she thought it was cool to make herself feel better than other people. She stuck around the house until the old lady made her get a job, which she couldn’t believe because she was supposed to find someone with money who would take care of her; who needed a job, she figured. Me, I wound up going straight down, falling and falling and falling and not really getting up for a long time. The pans were gone; I wasn’t acting like a slave to the rest of the lazy bastard siblings I had to put up with. Yeah. It all panned out.
She hit him across the face with the cast iron pan that had been passed down from her great, great, grandmother. She had a brief thought in that microsecond that perhaps her great, great grandmother had once imagined using the skillet for the same purpose and not making pork chops.
I saw it all
each step
blink
smirk
Witnesses are crows
twisted feet
black holes for eyes
slit mouth
Waiting, watching
for the crumbs to fall
“The gingerbread cow looked around, and not seeing anyone jumped out of the pan. She ran through the kitchen door under the sofa, along the wall and out the front door as fast as her little legs could carry her. Suddenly there was a shout from the kitchen. “Hey!? Where did my ginger bread cow go?” Without looking back the cow suddenly got a burst of adrenaline and ran faster and faster down the lane.” all the kids gasped, “did she get away?” they asked the librarian, eyes wide and looking up at her, “well i don’t know, we’ll just have to wait and see!” She smiled back at the and continued to read….
I took the pan from the cupboard, drizzled olive oil and added eggs. I love eggs with olive oil. The eggs cooked to perfection were devoured by my two sleepy kids as we prepared for the school day. I used an odd pan though. It was not for frying.
firing pan are cool you can make eggs on it it was delis
Pan are awesome
You can cook a lot of things in them
You can hit people with them
They are life
joey had a pan so i ran to my van
joey was large like a big fat lard
oh how i ran
so i would like a jar of sardeans
da da da da
I crack open the large packet of raw bacon and throw it into the sizzling pan. Layering the strips like the top crust on a pie, I start to hear the popping of the delicious meat.
The silver pan was very good at bashing people on the heads with and one day the pan saw a really annoying person so the pan bashed him on the head and left him without a head
A pan reminds me of a cooking pan that you use to make yummy food. This pan reminds me of how my mom and me always used to make good food for my family and how we enjoyed it. We used to make rice and then steak. This would make a legendary meal.
I like to cook eggs in a pan
I hit landon in the head with a pan.
A pan is shiny
Camerons hair shines like a silver pan.
Peters last name is Pan
Bacon smells good in a pan
I like pnas
landon hit joses cat with a frying pan it did not kill the cat. abby wanted to kill the cat because shes into that kind of stuff .
that pan on the ground is orange
why is landon kicking it
why is there a cliff there
oh no it fell off the cliff
the bear is
Waking up and smelling the bacon.
The eggs sizzling on the metal hottness
Grandmas pan is old and battered but she still makes amazing food to store inside. When ever we see the pan we know she has a treat for us to try.
peter pan
pizza
kitchen
food
mom cooking
frying pan
I like to cook my bacon in a cast iron pan because the cast iron pan is full of different flavors. i also like my eggs and sausage
kitchen, pancakes, cooking, dishes, breakfast, metal, eggs, chef,
the pan is so hot ,somtimes not so hot,makes good food and can burn you if your not nice also works good for self defense to your angry wife
Pan stood around on his tiny hill
Apollo said hey pan want to beat me at music
No said Pan, last time I did taht I regrated it for eternity.