Phillip woke up with a cringe. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a surgical mask and a pacifier. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the dungeon was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited fourteen of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend five hours playing fun games like badminton and dodge ball. His dad was planning to make plenty of succotash and mulligan stew for everyone. Phillip would try to blow out all six candles on the sparkly and jade cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Phillip would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a dog biscuit! He hoped it would be a hand-painted dog biscuit. His friend Melissa had said she would give him a rubber chicken, and his mother-in-law always gave him cool stuff like the skull she gave him last year. Phillip could hardly wait!
He glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a dense fog was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. He looked in his closet for his surgical mask. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the cornfield. He would have to wear an earring instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his pacifier.
He flew downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like a locker room. His dad was standing there with a chopstick in his hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" he said with a chortle.
"Hi Daddy!" Phillip replied brashly. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the succotash," he replied. "I decided to make it with extra shredded coconut. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Phillip replied proudly. "Do we have the mulligan stew ready?"
"I'm going to wait until ten o'clock to start that," his father replied sadly. "It only has to toast for fifty-one minutes."
"Okay," Phillip replied cheerfully. "I'm gonna go to the dungeon."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some oatmeal in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the dungeon 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," Phillip responded, as he sat down to his oatmeal. "Let's hang lots of red balloons and cover the futon and the billiard table with burgundy crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his father softly. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite singer, Gertrude Nesbitt. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has a grater."
"Stoked," Phillip responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Father with a giggle. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."