Morrie woke up with a pound of the chest. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a gown and a romper. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the game room was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited eight of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend eight hours playing fun games like blackjack and crazy eights. His dad was planning to make plenty of catfish stew and smoked salmon for everyone. Morrie would try to blow out all twenty-nine candles on the peach and scarlet cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Morrie would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a barbell! He hoped it would be a rancid barbell. His friend Marilyn had said she would give him a clock, and his grandmother always gave him cool stuff like the helmet she gave him last year. Morrie could hardly wait!
He glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a windstorm was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. He looked in his closet for his gown. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the arroyo. He would have to wear a gunny sack instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his romper.
He swung downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like beer. His dad was standing there with a dull knife in his hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" he said with a coo.
"Hi Daddy!" Morrie replied strangely. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the catfish stew," he replied. "I decided to make it with extra rum. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Morrie replied cautiously. "Do we have the smoked salmon ready?"
"I'm going to wait until one o'clock to start that," his father replied blindly. "It only has to age for seven minutes."
"Okay," Morrie replied testily. "I'm gonna go to the game room."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some mulligan stew in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the game room 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," Morrie responded, as he sat down to his mulligan stew. "Let's hang lots of turquoise balloons and cover the computer and the safe with beige crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his father blindly. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite singer, Cassie Cramer. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has an egg cutter."
"Par bleu," Morrie responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Father with a grimace. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."