Tiffany woke up with a belch. Today was her birthday! She was going to have a lot of fun today. First, she would dress up in a straitjacket and a beret. Then, she would run downstairs to see if the basement was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited eighteen of her closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend one hour playing fun games like ring around the rosie and old maid. Her dad was planning to make plenty of tuna casserole and roast beef for everyone. Tiffany would try to blow out all thirty-one candles on the golden and jade cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Tiffany would be opening her gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a key ring! She hoped it would be a queer key ring. Her friend Bailey had said she would give her a fingernail clipper, and her grandfather always gave her cool stuff like the paper bag she gave her last year. Tiffany could hardly wait!
She glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a downpour was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. She looked in her closet for her straitjacket. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from her day at the treetop. She would have to wear a pair of safety glasses instead. She didn't really care, as long as she could still wear her beret.
She whirled downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like apple pie. Her dad was standing there with a meat thermometer in his hand. "Happy Birthday Honey!" he said with a cringe.
"Hi Daddy!" Tiffany replied surreptitiously. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the tuna casserole," he replied. "I decided to make it with extra whale blubber. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Tiffany replied dubiously. "Do we have the roast beef ready?"
"I'm going to wait until nine o'clock to start that," her father replied mysteriously. "It only has to heat in microwave for nine minutes."
"Okay," Tiffany replied proudly. "I'm gonna go to the basement."
"First, young lady, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some French fries in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the basement first?" she begged.
"It looks just like it always does," her father replied. "Remember, I'm depending on you to help with the decorating."
"Oh yeah," Tiffany responded, as she sat down to her French fries. "Let's hang lots of carrot-orange balloons and cover the hamper and the mattress with terra cotta crepe paper."
"That's fine," said her father lazily. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite singer, Karla Prescott. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has a melon baller."
"If only," Tiffany responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Father with a power fist. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."