Thursday, May 29, 2014

Birthday.

Placeholder for The New Georgie Witherspoon
May 16. My sixteenth birthday. And I was under the covers wishing death would pay a visit.

“Georgie,” Moira called, gently tapping my shoulder. I sighed. Here it comes. I pulled the covers down to see Moira dressed in a brightly colored dress, an orange wig, and holding maracas. I bit my tongue to keep from laughing. Moira began to dance.

“Happy Birthday, Sweet Sixteen,” she sang badly. “Happy Birthday, don’t be mean. Happy birthday, You’re so cute. Happy Birthday, Here’s a boot!” She pulled a boot from underneath her dress.

I quickly pulled the covers over my head and bit my lip. My body started shaking from holding in the laughter.

“You stubborn little cow,” Moira said. “Now you know damn well that was hilarious and you’re under there trying to hold it in, shaking like a whore at Revival, trying to be a sour puss today!”

A snicker escaped from me and I was unable to hold it in any longer. I laughed harder than I had laughed since this all started. After a solid minute of nonstop laughter, I caught my breath, wiped my laugh tears away and emerged from the covers. Moira was dressed in her uniform and was smoothing strands of hair back into her ponytail.

“Good morning!” she said, calmly. I sat up in my bed, unable to wipe the smile off my face as Moira gestured towards my table and chairs, decorated with gaudy sweet sixteen balloons, a frilly table cloth, with my birthday breakfast on top of it: Sixteen pancakes with a one and six candle on top, scrambled eggs and bacon on the side and two tall glasses of juice.

She lit the candles and I reluctantly came out of bed and walked up to the table. Moira told me to make a wish. I did, blew out the candles and together, Moira and I began eating the breakfast.

A now sixteen year old birthday tradition.

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Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body. Proverbs 16:24