Bronk woke up with a shrug. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a denim skirt and a mask. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the pantry was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited nine of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend four hours playing fun games like seven-up and seven-up. His mom was planning to make plenty of smoked salmon and strawberry shortcake for everyone. Bronk would try to blow out all twenty-six candles on the forest green and khaki cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Bronk would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a yardstick! He hoped it would be a polka-dotted yardstick. His friend Maximilian had said he would give him a china doll, and his cousin always gave him cool stuff like the gun she gave him last year. Bronk could hardly wait!
He glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a hot day was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. He looked in his closet for his denim skirt. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the hayfield. He would have to wear a set of camo fatigues instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his mask.
He careened downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like incense. His mom was standing there with a candy thermometer in her hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" she said with a belly laugh.
"Hi Mommy!" Bronk replied elatedly. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the smoked salmon," she replied. "I decided to make it with extra pitted cherries. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Bronk replied curiously. "Do we have the strawberry shortcake ready?"
"I'm going to wait until eight o'clock to start that," his mother replied miserably. "It only has to allow to rise in warm place for several hours for thirty minutes."
"Okay," Bronk replied ingeniously. "I'm gonna go to the pantry."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some steak in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the pantry 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," Bronk responded, as he sat down to his steak. "Let's hang lots of black balloons and cover the billiard table and the futon with salmon crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his mother vacantly. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite singer, Fawn LaSalle. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has a cookie cutter."
"Peachy-keen," Bronk responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Mother with a coo. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."