Bud woke up with a flinch. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a pair of Reeboks and a pair of suspenders. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the garage was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited nineteen of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend five hours playing fun games like Clue and Russian roulette. His dad was planning to make plenty of macaroni and scrambled eggs for everyone. Bud would try to blow out all thirty-five candles on the pink and olive drab cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Bud would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a clipboard! He hoped it would be a brittle clipboard. His friend Mary had said she would give him a piano, and his friend always gave him cool stuff like the needle and thread she gave him last year. Bud could hardly wait!
He glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a hurricane was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. He looked in his closet for his pair of Reeboks. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the jungle. He would have to wear a pair of toe shoes instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his pair of suspenders.
He ran downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like oregano. His dad was standing there with an oven mitt in his hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" he said with a wince.
"Hi Daddy!" Bud replied frenetically. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the macaroni," he replied. "I decided to make it with extra frankfurters. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Bud replied languidly. "Do we have the scrambled eggs ready?"
"I'm going to wait until twelve o'clock to start that," his father replied dolorously. "It only has to allow to rise in warm place for several hours for fifty-six minutes."
"Okay," Bud replied mysteriously. "I'm gonna go to the garage."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some ceviche in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the garage 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," Bud responded, as he sat down to his ceviche. "Let's hang lots of sparkly balloons and cover the filing cabinet and the footstool with chocolate brown crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his father coolly. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite Tv star, Brenda Weinstein. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has a Sham-Wow!."
"Nope," Bud responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Father with a wink. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."