Abigail woke up with a hoot. Today was her birthday! She was going to have a lot of fun today. First, she would dress up in a tuxedo and a pair of dentures. Then, she would run downstairs to see if the porch was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited thirteen of her closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend five hours playing fun games like chess and Parcheesi. Her dad was planning to make plenty of crumb cake and waffles for everyone. Abigail would try to blow out all thirteen candles on the polka dotted and tan cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Abigail would be opening her gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a cookie! She hoped it would be a bronze cookie. Her friend Brooke had said she would give her a rubber stamp, and her dad always gave her cool stuff like the fishing rod she gave her last year. Abigail could hardly wait!
She glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a tornado was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. She looked in her closet for her tuxedo. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from her day at the hayfield. She would have to wear a black belt instead. She didn't really care, as long as she could still wear her pair of dentures.
She staggered downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like Lancôme. Her dad was standing there with a cookie cutter in his hand. "Happy Birthday Honey!" he said with a sneer.
"Hi Daddy!" Abigail replied merrily. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the crumb cake," he replied. "I decided to make it with extra apple slices. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Abigail replied dolorously. "Do we have the waffles ready?"
"I'm going to wait until twelve o'clock to start that," her father replied nimbly. "It only has to poach lightly for fifty-four minutes."
"Okay," Abigail replied hopefully. "I'm gonna go to the porch."
"First, young lady, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some dry toast in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the porch first?" she begged.
"It looks just like it always does," her father replied. "Remember, I'm depending on you to help with the decorating."
"Oh yeah," Abigail responded, as she sat down to her dry toast. "Let's hang lots of beige balloons and cover the filing cabinet and the china hutch with emerald green crepe paper."
"That's fine," said her father hysterically. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite singer, Tracy Grayheels. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has a chopstick."
"Yikes," Abigail responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Father with a kiss. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."