In a shocking turn of events that has left the local culinary community in disarray, famed amateur chef Sidney Flapjack has officially blamed the morning traffic for a particularly disastrous batch of baked beans that resulted in a five-alarm flavor emergency and the closing of his kitchen for “repairs.” It all began on a fateful Wednesday when Flapjack attempted to make his grandmother’s secret recipe for baked beans, a dish he assured his friends would be “legendary.” The ambitious chef set out on what seemed like an unassuming trip to the local supermarket at 8 AM, armed with a shopping list that included the essentials: navy beans, smoked bacon, and just a hint of love. However, destiny had other plans. Reports indicate that Flapjack encountered a “traffic disaster” after a flock of geese decided to stage a leisurely stroll across Main Street, causing the morning rush hour to come to a screeching halt. “Why would they pick that time?” exclaimed Flapjack in frustration. “Don’t they have places to be? I was destined to win the ‘Best Dish at the Potluck’ award for the fifth year in a row! They ruined my beans and dreams!” In a fit of desperation caused by the unexpected delay, Flapjack made an impromptu detour to a local fast-food drive-thru, where he ordered an impressive three buckets of mushy beans, claiming they were “basically the same thing” and would adequately substitute for the gourmet ingredients he originally intended. Little did he know, these beans contained enough mystery seasonings to make even the bravest taste buds tremble. When Flapjack finally returned to his kitchen, the clock was ticking, and time was a luxury he could no longer afford. In a hasty concoction, he dumped in the drive-thru beans, added an entire jar of relish (because why not?), and topped it all off with a sprinkle of old bay seasoning, thus beginning what critics are now calling “The Accidental Mean Bean Catastrophe.” The results were catastrophic: the baked beans bubbled over, creating a thick layer of sticky liquid that adhered itself to every available surface in Flapjack’s kitchen. In what can only be characterized as a culinary crime against humanity, the beans were predicted to attract every local insect for miles. Neighbors reported hearing horrifying sounds emanating from within, which Flapjack later described as “the song of my people going up in smoke.” Following the fiasco, Flapjack held a press conference where he unleashed a barrage of accusations at the traffic system, insisting that “it’s not just geese traffic that got me! It’s the roads, the lights, and—dare I say it—my GPS. It’s all a vast conspiracy to discredit my culinary prowess!” He then concluded with an emotional appeal: “Can’t we all just agree that the government is anti-baked beans?” Local authorities remained mum on the matter, but sources suggest that plans are in motion to increase signage warning motorists of geese crossings during crucial bean-related hours. As for Flapjack, he is now facing a rather unique dilemma: calling it quits on the culinary scene or retrying the beans, perhaps with a delivery service in place to circumvent further “traffic problems.” One thing’s for certain: Sidney Flapjack’s kitchen may not survive another ordinary Wednesday.