Aristotle woke up with a snuffle. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a poncho and a tattoo. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the corridor was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited twenty-three of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend two hours playing fun games like seven-up and hide and seek. His mom was planning to make plenty of tacos and pot roast for everyone. Aristotle would try to blow out all twenty-six candles on the red and white cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Aristotle would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a yardstick! He hoped it would be a chic yardstick. His friend Dick had said he would give him a broom, and his mom always gave him cool stuff like the key she gave him last year. Aristotle could hardly wait!
He glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a drought was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. He looked in his closet for his poncho. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the housing development. He would have to wear a sport coat instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his tattoo.
He slipped downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like something died. His mom was standing there with an electric paint mixer in her hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" she said with a smack.
"Hi Mommy!" Aristotle replied ferociously. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the tacos," she replied. "I decided to make it with extra fresh garlic. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Aristotle replied cruelly. "Do we have the pot roast ready?"
"I'm going to wait until one o'clock to start that," his mother replied fondly. "It only has to smoke for seventy-nine minutes."
"Okay," Aristotle replied arrogantly. "I'm gonna go to the corridor."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some tofu in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the corridor 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," Aristotle responded, as he sat down to his tofu. "Let's hang lots of purple balloons and cover the cash register and the ottoman with terra cotta crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his mother tenderly. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite Tv star, Kirsten Collier. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has a paring knife."
"Tubular," Aristotle responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Mother with a frown. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."