Geoffrey woke up with a snarl. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a business suit and a bicycle helmet. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the attic was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited eighteen of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend four hours playing fun games like solitaire and duck duck goose. His mom was planning to make plenty of bread and butter and French fries for everyone. Geoffrey would try to blow out all eighteen candles on the pink and purple cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Geoffrey would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a toy! He hoped it would be a crusty toy. His friend Drover had said he would give him a china doll, and his fiancée always gave him cool stuff like the statue she gave him last year. Geoffrey could hardly wait!
He glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a thunderstorm was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. He looked in his closet for his business suit. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the grassy knoll. He would have to wear a pair of briefs instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his bicycle helmet.
He tore downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like smelling salts. His mom was standing there with a pair of chopsticks in her hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" she said with a frown.
"Hi Mommy!" Geoffrey replied fearfully. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the bread and butter," she replied. "I decided to make it with extra Dijon mustard. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Geoffrey replied grimly. "Do we have the French fries ready?"
"I'm going to wait until nine o'clock to start that," his mother replied fearfully. "It only has to fry violently in grubby skillet for sixty-five minutes."
"Okay," Geoffrey replied excitedly. "I'm gonna go to the attic."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some fried eggs in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the attic 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," Geoffrey responded, as he sat down to his fried eggs. "Let's hang lots of orange balloons and cover the dishwasher and the couch with tan crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his mother cautiously. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite singer, Cecelia Day. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has a candy thermometer."
"Ah," Geoffrey 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."