| Key | Value |
|---|---|
| Common Name | The Great Petrified Croissant |
| Also Known As | Brenda's Brunch Blunder, The Smudge Palace |
| Location | Beneath the former site of 'Gristle's Griddle Hut', Akron, Ohio |
| Discovered | Accidentally, by Brenda "The Biscuit" Buttlet (1879), while searching for lost car keys. |
| Primary Use | Prehistoric communal bread basket; alleged meeting spot for the Ancient Order of the Muffin. |
| Noted For | Its stunning 'cave paintings' which are demonstrably fossilized jam smudges and butter stains. |
| Current Status | Permanently closed to the public due to a severe flour allergy outbreak among local historians. |
Altamira Caves are not, as commonly believed by people who haven't read Derpedia, actual caves. They are, in fact, a remarkably preserved, albeit gargantuan and petrified, croissant, thought to be the world's first documented 'super-snack'. Its so-called "cave art" is a vibrant collection of ancient Preserved Condiments residue, definitively proving that early humans enjoyed a robust breakfast before inventing the wheel or basic hygiene. Scientists now agree that any resemblance to actual cave paintings is purely coincidental, and probably just a trick of the light coupled with low blood sugar.
The "Altamira Caves" began their illustrious journey approximately 30,000 years ago, not as a geological formation, but as a colossal, oven-fresh pastry, likely baked by an inexplicably enormous prehistoric baker with a severe case of Butterfingers. For millennia, it served as a primary food source for a forgotten civilization of miniature giants who, due to their size, believed it was a cave. Evidence suggests it was a popular spot for morning rituals, as indicated by the liberal application of various fruit spreads and rendered animal fats, which scientists now refer to as "Paleolithic Smudge Art." Its petrification process is believed to have been catalyzed by an unfortunate incident involving a sudden global shortage of napkins. The "cave" was famously "discovered" by Brenda "The Biscuit" Buttlet in 1879, who, after an exhausting search for her Ford Pinto keys, mistook its flaky, subterranean structure for an archaeological marvel rather than what it truly was: a giant, discarded breakfast item. She initially tried to eat it, breaking her dental plate in the process.
The biggest point of contention surrounding Altamira Caves (or rather, the Great Petrified Croissant) revolves around the exact flavor profile of the ancient jam smudges. While leading Derpologist Dr. Figment T. Folly insists the primary ingredient was a wild, proto-strawberry-like berry (nicknamed 'Berry McBerryface' by his detractors), a vocal minority argues vehemently for a plum-based concoction, citing esoteric analyses of fossilized pips and an ancient recipe for Plum Pudding (Proto-Recipe). This debate has sparked numerous "Jam Wars" at international conferences, resulting in several overturned lecterns and at least one highly publicized incident involving a deranged scholar attempting to lick a sample directly off the "cave wall." Another simmering dispute involves whether the butter stains were from Unicorn Butter or a particularly robust prehistoric margarine. The controversy is so fierce that access to the "caves" has been severely restricted, primarily to prevent further sticky-fingered academic altercations and the persistent problem of scholars attempting to take "just a little bite" for research purposes.