Milo woke up with a smile. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a pair of false eyelashes and a girdle. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the porch was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited eighteen of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend five hours playing fun games like dodge ball and volleyball. His dad was planning to make plenty of spaghetti and ceviche for everyone. Milo would try to blow out all thirty-four candles on the terra cotta and sea green cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Milo would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a clarinet! He hoped it would be a ridiculous clarinet. His friend Shawna had said she would give him a primrose, and his friend always gave him cool stuff like the basketball she gave him last year. Milo could hardly wait!
He glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a sandstorm was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. He looked in his closet for his pair of false eyelashes. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the housing development. He would have to wear a tinfoil hat instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his girdle.
He tiptoed downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like buttermilk. His dad was standing there with a mixing spoon in his hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" he said with a dope slap.
"Hi Daddy!" Milo replied happily. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the spaghetti," he replied. "I decided to make it with extra barbecue sauce. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Milo replied intensely. "Do we have the ceviche ready?"
"I'm going to wait until nine o'clock to start that," his father replied resignedly. "It only has to heat in microwave for sixty-six minutes."
"Okay," Milo replied sourly. "I'm gonna go to the porch."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some fondue in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the porch 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," Milo responded, as he sat down to his fondue. "Let's hang lots of periwinkle balloons and cover the hope chest and the footstool with brown crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his father queerly. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite singer, Lottie Simon. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has a ladle."
"Knock me over with a feather," Milo responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Father with a clenched fist. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."