Willard woke up with a wince. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a pair of Reeboks and a mortarboard. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the boudoir was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited thirteen of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend six hours playing fun games like Cootie and seven-up. His dad was planning to make plenty of shrimp and cinnamon toast for everyone. Willard would try to blow out all eight candles on the maroon and crimson cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Willard would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a baseball! He hoped it would be a rusty baseball. His friend Esther had said she would give him a key ring, and his fiancée always gave him cool stuff like the iPad she gave him last year. Willard could hardly wait!
He glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a drizzle was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. He looked in his closet for his pair of Reeboks. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the treetop. He would have to wear a beret instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his mortarboard.
He sprinted downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like creosote. His dad was standing there with a pastry blender in his hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" he said with a power fist.
"Hi Daddy!" Willard replied recklessly. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the shrimp," he replied. "I decided to make it with extra Italian sausage. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Willard replied shyly. "Do we have the cinnamon toast ready?"
"I'm going to wait until two o'clock to start that," his father replied daringly. "It only has to whirl for fifty-seven minutes."
"Okay," Willard replied furiously. "I'm gonna go to the boudoir."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some ceviche in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the boudoir first?" he begged.
"It looks just like it always does," his father replied. "Remember, I'm depending on you to help with the decorating."
"Oh yeah," Willard responded, as he sat down to his ceviche. "Let's hang lots of burgundy balloons and cover the armoire and the safe with amber crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his father diligently. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite singer, Camella Eichmann. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has a turkey baster."
"Lord be praised," Willard responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Father with a shout. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."