Randall woke up with a wrinkled nose. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a wedding dress and a pair of glasses. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the auditorium was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited twenty-four of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend five hours playing fun games like seven-up and backgammon. His mom was planning to make plenty of chicken pot pie and pot roast for everyone. Randall would try to blow out all twenty-one candles on the chartreuse and aquamarine cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Randall would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a potato! He hoped it would be a colossal potato. His friend Deng had said he would give him a coin, and his cousin always gave him cool stuff like the sack she gave him last year. Randall could hardly wait!
He glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a pelting rainstorm was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. He looked in his closet for his wedding dress. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the ridge. He would have to wear a pair of briefs instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his pair of glasses.
He slunk downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like a beauty salon. His mom was standing there with a meat thermometer in her hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" she said with a cringe.
"Hi Mommy!" Randall replied softly. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the chicken pot pie," she replied. "I decided to make it with extra whale blubber. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Randall replied rapidly. "Do we have the pot roast ready?"
"I'm going to wait until seven o'clock to start that," his mother replied reluctantly. "It only has to mix happily for seventy-seven minutes."
"Okay," Randall replied slyly. "I'm gonna go to the auditorium."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some blueberry pie in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the auditorium first?" he begged.
"It looks just like it always does," his mother replied. "Remember, I'm depending on you to help with the decorating."
"Oh yeah," Randall responded, as he sat down to his blueberry pie. "Let's hang lots of violet balloons and cover the rug and the wooden crate with navy blue crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his mother cunningly. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite singer, Jackie Richards. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has a meat thermometer."
"Bless my hide," Randall responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Mother with a sneeze. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."