Brett woke up with a grin. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a pair of nylons and a pair of Groucho glasses. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the pool room was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited fifteen of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend four hours playing fun games like Russian roulette and Candy Land. His dad was planning to make plenty of clam chowder and falafel for everyone. Brett would try to blow out all twelve candles on the violet and golden cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Brett would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a china doll! He hoped it would be a handy china doll. His friend Linda had said she would give him a ball, and his aunt always gave him cool stuff like the Lego set she gave him last year. Brett could hardly wait!
He glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a blanket of mist was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. He looked in his closet for his pair of nylons. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the country meadow. He would have to wear a beard instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his pair of Groucho glasses.
He flew downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like lavender. His dad was standing there with a mixing spoon in his hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" he said with a sigh.
"Hi Daddy!" Brett replied sleepily. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the clam chowder," he replied. "I decided to make it with extra lemon juice. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Brett replied deliberately. "Do we have the falafel ready?"
"I'm going to wait until seven o'clock to start that," his father replied strangely. "It only has to fry recklessly in important skillet for sixty-seven minutes."
"Okay," Brett replied strictly. "I'm gonna go to the pool room."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some ravioli in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the pool room 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," Brett responded, as he sat down to his ravioli. "Let's hang lots of blue balloons and cover the ping-pong table and the washstand with salmon crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his father boisterously. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite singer, Carla Potatohead. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has a turkey baster."
"Doubtful," Brett responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Father with a death glare. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."