Boots woke up with a cheer. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a moustache and a body shirt. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the patio was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited nineteen of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend five hours playing fun games like tag and Scrabble. His dad was planning to make plenty of fried eggs and burritos for everyone. Boots would try to blow out all eight candles on the rose and chartreuse cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Boots would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a potato! He hoped it would be a handy potato. His friend Fawn had said she would give him a sponge, and his aunt always gave him cool stuff like the coat hanger she gave him last year. Boots 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 moustache. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the garden. He would have to wear a kimono instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his body shirt.
He clambered downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like pencil shavings. His dad was standing there with a whisk in his hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" he said with a smack.
"Hi Daddy!" Boots replied suavely. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the fried eggs," he replied. "I decided to make it with extra red wine vinegar. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Boots replied violently. "Do we have the burritos ready?"
"I'm going to wait until two o'clock to start that," his father replied caustically. "It only has to boil for eighty-three minutes."
"Okay," Boots replied firmly. "I'm gonna go to the patio."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some roast turkey in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the patio 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," Boots responded, as he sat down to his roast turkey. "Let's hang lots of camouflage balloons and cover the bench and the computer with maroon crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his father dolefully. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite singer, Tori Bruce. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has a potato peeler."
"Aha," Boots responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Father with a pound of the chest. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."