You're feeling quite hungry, but you've done enough time in the slammer to know that you really need to pace yourself in these desserted cells, and ration your provisions accordingly. Yet the waffley aroma... it beckons.

You're a little hazy on the TWELVE MEATS lore, and that's part of why you're in so much trouble. You refuse to bend the knee to these clowny orthodoxies, and you have no idea what any of this clown religion stuff is supposed to be about. After joining the circus, you never paid much attention in FUNDAY SCHOOL.

But some of the lore definitely must have seeped into your brain, much the way the syrup has seeped into these formerly-delicious looking waffles. You seem to remember something about how a long time ago, clowns would take over WAFFLE HOUSES all across the land, and get very rowdy and violent. This led the clowny authorities, whoever that is, to establish a parallel network of breakfast establishments called IHOP, where clowns were mandated to go eat pancakes and get in fights, thus reaffirming the state's monopoly on violence. But the religious lore says a truly faithful clown needs to make a choice between pancakes and waffles to reveal what is in their clowny heart: the spirit of deference and subjugation vs. the spirit of chaos and whimsical defiance of order. It seems you chose waffles, but don't recall doing so. Truthfully, the prison guard probably just gave these waffles to you randomly and called it a day.

Did I get that right?

Wait, I mean, did YOU get that right? I have no idea what any of this twelve meats shit is supposed to be. I mean, you have no idea. Uh. Because you didn't pay attention.

In funday school.

Okay, how about you pull your sloppy ass out of those waffles and do another thing already.