This is Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle. Have you ever found yourself somewhere and wondered how in the world that you got there? Yeah. We felt like that yesterday. We thought that we were in California, but then we found ourselves in a Danish town called Solvang.
And the first place that Digby found? You guessed it. A pancake house.
As Deputy, it takes a lot of pancakes to keep him going and happy. And yet, there are never enough. If you are a pancake anywhere in the same state as Digby, you are not safe. And as Sheriff, it is my duty to keep everyone safe, even in Solvang. Especially a fickle flapjack in Solvang, California. Yes. A fickle flapjack.
How did we find a fickle flapjack? You see, in the town of Solvang, the way people talk to each other is in fairy tales. There are many tales to tell, and many things that you may not find in other places because they live in a fairy tale. Like that fickle flapjack. Apparently, a gentleman by the name of Hans Christian Andersen has a museum here. You might recognize some of his work like the Ugly Duckling, The Princess and the Pea and maybe even The Little Mermaid. He loved fairy tales. And Solvang loves Hans Christian Andersen.
If you live here in Solvang, and you are a flapjack, and a Digby Pancake comes to visit your town, you tell all of the other flapjacks, and if you are 2 Traveling Dogs, you find yourself in at the middle of a fairy tale too.
Thus begins The Tale Of Digby And The Fickle Flapjack
2 dogs traveled far and wide in search of a good meal. As they happened upon a town of windmills and pancake houses, it appeared to them that their stomachs were about to be satisfied with as many plates of danish pancakes as they wanted.
They had thought of a good meal for many hours, two in fact. And they were famished. They were law enforcement dogs, and they needed to keep up their appetites. But as they ordered from the menu, they realized that in fact a pancake house had only pancakes. You see, one of the dogs were not as keen on pancakes as the other, and as he gazed upon his plate of pancakes, which were the only thing that he could order, he began to wonder. Could these pancakes have feelings? Did they deserve to be eaten? Did he have the right to tell his Deputy that his empty belly might not be as important as a flapjack’s feelings and right to live in a town of windmills?
He was a Sheriff. Wasn’t it his duty to protect flapjacks when they needed to be protected? He had taken an oath in fact.
So as this Sheriff looked at his pancakes, he forgot that the Deputy had received his plate too, and as he gazed up, he saw that the Deputy’s flapjacks were already gone. It was too late. But he could still save his plate of pancakes. But as he began to explain to Digby that the flapjacks on his plate were not to be eaten that day, because they were visiting a town of fairy tales, the Deputy had already ate three out of four. And the Sheriff was mad. The Sheriff was very mad. He yanked his one flapjack from the table and told Deputy Digby that this flapjack was not to be eaten. He told Deputy Digby that this flapjack was now going to travel with them.
But what the Sheriff did not know was that this particular flapjack was a fickle one. He had lived a life of crime in this town for many years. It was his habit to steal. This was a fickle flapjack. And now that he was protected by a Sheriff, he found that his life of crime was very easy to continue. Every day, he would break into the town’s houses and steal butter to slather all over himself. But then, he would break into another house and steal syrup to slather all over himself. He was very fickle. As Sheriff Brickle kept receiving reports of break-ins, he looked at their new traveling companion and saw that he in fact had much butter and much syrup all over himself. And he got mad for saving him and protecting him. He now had to protect the town from this fickle flapjack and locked him up. The town felt safe again and people were no longer blaming the flapjacks on their plate at the pancake house for their missing butter and syrup. The Sheriff had saved the town from this fickle flapjack.
But as he went to go check on him one day in jail, he noticed that the fickle flapjack was gone. He had escaped. He called the Deputy who rushed in with butter. And gasp. Maple syrup on his mouth. And he had not went to the pancake house that day. And the Sheriff asked the Deputy where their inmate was and all the Deputy could say was that justice had been served. And it was delicious.
Thus, the tale of the fickle flapjack was to be told in Solvang for many years. They didn’t even tell the story of the The Princess and the Pea any longer.
And they would, from that day only, only tell The Tale Of Digby Pancake and the Fickle Flapjack. There is never a choice between butter and syrup. You have to choose both. The flapjack should have known that, and for the rest of flapjacks in Solvang, they tell this tale to their little silver dollar pancakes to remind them not to be fickle. Like the fickle flapjack. And that is why you find so many danishes now here. Because. That’s why.
-Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle
P.S. We are back on the road today! We are headed to somewhere called Temecula, California. Are you coming with us? We have no room for fickle flapjacks.