You start by offering breakfast to the 537 tweens and teens bivouacked in your abode. After they shrug, as if the effort to speak their thoughts aloud is too much for them, as if the arduous mechanics of sucking in air and expelling it in such a fashion that it may communicate something is beyond the scope of their hive-mind ennui, as if the words f a willing and competent chef are like the indulcent tones of a facks moh dehm, a 2oth century relic of low baud telephonic comm service–after that, feel free to interpret their collective disregard as “Please, sir, make us something truly and indelibly hideous!” Make them this:
1. Bisquick in the usual fashion.
2. Add sliced pepperoni.
Serve with syrup and the option of a little red sauce.