Papa woke up with a yawn. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a cocktail dress and a T-shirt. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the billiard room was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited nine of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend three hours playing fun games like poker and crazy eights. His dad was planning to make plenty of pizza and bonbons for everyone. Papa would try to blow out all thirty-one candles on the crimson and polka dotted cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Papa would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a primrose! He hoped it would be an old primrose. His friend Faye had said she would give him a garbage can, and his grandmother always gave him cool stuff like the Band-aid she gave him last year. Papa could hardly wait!
He glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a hailstorm was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. He looked in his closet for his cocktail dress. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the countryside. He would have to wear a pair of Bermuda shorts instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his T-shirt.
He set out downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like an old goat. His dad was standing there with a bare foot in his hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" he said with a fist bump.
"Hi Daddy!" Papa replied sharply. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the pizza," he replied. "I decided to make it with extra grated Romano cheese. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Papa replied sorrowfully. "Do we have the bonbons ready?"
"I'm going to wait until ten o'clock to start that," his father replied shakily. "It only has to heat in microwave for eighteen minutes."
"Okay," Papa replied tearfully. "I'm gonna go to the billiard room."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some fried okra in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the billiard 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," Papa responded, as he sat down to his fried okra. "Let's hang lots of metallic red balloons and cover the end table and the settee with beige crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his father majestically. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite singer, Beulah Ling. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has an ice pick."
"Diddly poo," Papa responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Father with a pound of the chest. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."