Whenever he needs to do maths, PF feels as if he is sprinting towards a math-ravine. The first few lines are the pounding of his thought-feet on the dusty algebrearth - committed but hopeful of stopping soon. Taking too long feels like mathfall. A complex problem left unsolved can leave him with a comprehencussion, a broken logic cage and internal discontinuities. This is usually resolved by including an order-of-magnimatress, or just a lot of fudge.
tl;dr: bad pun PF bad pun contrived bad pun bad pun injoke.
"Now, if you'll bear with me a moment..."