Cliff woke up with a guffaw. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a balaclava and a bolo tie. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the doghouse was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited fourteen of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend seven hours playing fun games like Scrabble and Parcheesi. His mom was planning to make plenty of corn on the cob and tacos for everyone. Cliff would try to blow out all four candles on the pea green and brilliant orange cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Cliff would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a pair of binoculars! He hoped it would be a funny pair of binoculars. His friend Jared had said he would give him a playing card, and his sister always gave him cool stuff like the cigarette she gave him last year. Cliff could hardly wait!
He glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a typhoon was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. He looked in his closet for his balaclava. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the veld. He would have to wear a beret instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his bolo tie.
He bounced downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like Pine-Sol. His mom was standing there with a garlic press in her hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" she said with a chortle.
"Hi Mommy!" Cliff replied ingeniously. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the corn on the cob," she replied. "I decided to make it with extra raspberries. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Cliff replied kindly. "Do we have the tacos ready?"
"I'm going to wait until nine o'clock to start that," his mother replied fervently. "It only has to place on serving dish for eighty-one minutes."
"Okay," Cliff replied cheerfully. "I'm gonna go to the doghouse."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some mulligan stew in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the doghouse 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," Cliff responded, as he sat down to his mulligan stew. "Let's hang lots of metallic red balloons and cover the futon and the ping-pong table with golden crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his mother irritably. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite Tv star, Bella Weinstein. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has an oven mitt."
"Son of a gun," Cliff responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Mother with a face palm. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."