Reginald woke up with a dope slap. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a bulletproof vest and a moustache. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the boudoir was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited thirty of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend two hours playing fun games like volleyball and jump rope. His dad was planning to make plenty of waffles and egg rolls for everyone. Reginald would try to blow out all sixteen candles on the polka dotted and lime-green cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Reginald would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain an air compressor! He hoped it would be a hand-made air compressor. His friend Nelly had said she would give him a flag, and his mom always gave him cool stuff like the fishhook she gave him last year. Reginald could hardly wait!
He glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a hot day was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. He looked in his closet for his bulletproof vest. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the crime scene. He would have to wear a tuxedo instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his moustache.
He sped downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like sage. His dad was standing there with an oven mitt in his hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" he said with a titter.
"Hi Daddy!" Reginald replied sheepishly. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the waffles," he replied. "I decided to make it with extra yogurt. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Reginald replied sternly. "Do we have the egg rolls ready?"
"I'm going to wait until three o'clock to start that," his father replied silently. "It only has to fry for thirty-four minutes."
"Okay," Reginald replied despondently. "I'm gonna go to the boudoir."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some pot roast in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the boudoir 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," Reginald responded, as he sat down to his pot roast. "Let's hang lots of white balloons and cover the ottoman and the armoire with carrot-orange crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his father sternly. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite singer, Angela Brindel. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has a spoon."
"Pshaw," Reginald 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."