Plato woke up with a frown. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a gas mask and a suit. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the hall was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited twenty-five of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend five hours playing fun games like baseball and badminton. His mom was planning to make plenty of roast Cornish game hen and biscuits and gravy for everyone. Plato would try to blow out all thirty-four candles on the blue and olive green cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Plato would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a bullet! He hoped it would be an electronic bullet. His friend Macon had said he would give him a chart, and his grandmother always gave him cool stuff like the yardstick she gave him last year. Plato 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 gas mask. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the countryside. He would have to wear a beach towel instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his suit.
He scooted downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like a skunk. His mom was standing there with a ladle in her hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" she said with a finger gun.
"Hi Mommy!" Plato replied sarcastically. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the roast Cornish game hen," she replied. "I decided to make it with extra pecan pieces. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Plato replied viciously. "Do we have the biscuits and gravy ready?"
"I'm going to wait until five o'clock to start that," his mother replied pityingly. "It only has to simmer for seventy-three minutes."
"Okay," Plato replied lamely. "I'm gonna go to the hall."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some chocolate-covered ants in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the hall 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," Plato responded, as he sat down to his chocolate-covered ants. "Let's hang lots of pea green balloons and cover the end table and the end table with amber crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his mother trustingly. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite singer, Alissa Khatchaturian. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has a blender."
"Ten-four," Plato responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Mother with a snuffle. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."