Crappy Birthday To You

Max tilted his head and looked at his mother’s friend, wondering why he’d come to his party. “Mom, where’s Bobo?”

Helen Garcia smiled sheepishly at her son as she averted the gaze of the other children who had found their spots on the living room floor. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I know I promised you Bobo the Clown but he’s in reha--, uh, I mean, he had a business trip all of a sudden. So, I brought you, uh, Obie.”

Max wondered why his mother had introduced her friend Raul by a different name. “What the hell does ‘Obie’ do?”

“Please watch your language, honey,” said Helen with a chuckle, quickly scanning the faces of the other parents. Lucy Hernandez and Edna Mendez shot her looks of disapproval. “Obie here can, uh, sing and make balloon animals. Just like Bobo. Huh, Obie?”

Helen gave her gynecologist that “please-for-the-love-of-God-help-me” look. Her gay friend shot her a “you-owe-me-big-time-for-this” expression before turning toward the children, who stared at him like a pack of wolves would their prey. “Of course, Mrs. Garcia. How about a balloon animal?”

The children cheered. Max wore a scowl as he sat down front and center. Raul fished a surgical glove from his pocket, blew into it, and sealed it with a clumsy knot. “This is a, uh, birthday turkey!”

Max’s scowl deepened. “You suck! I want Bobo!”

“Okay,” Raul said, tossing the inflated glove aside. “How about a song? Ahem..."

While Raul muddled through his version of an obscure Judy Garland ditty, Helen peered out the window just as the Party Factory’s truck parked curbside. “Great, everyone,” she yelled, just as Raul had finally found the right pitch, “the piñata's here!”

The children got up and started bouncing excitedly. She was thankful at how easily excited children got at times. She opened the door and frowned at the delivery guy. “You’re late. This was supposed to be here four hours ago.”

The young man smacked his chewing gum. “Sorry, dude.”

Helen eyed the box. “Hey, this box is a little too small for a piñata.”

The delivery boy shook the box and looked at the packing slip. “Dude, these are, like, Mardi Gras decorations.”

Helen’s jaw dropped. She felt a tug at her blouse; it was Max. “Where’s the piñata, Mommy?”

She chuckled nervously as she opened the box. “Uh, sweetie. Instead of a piñata, how about you kids play with colorful beads and whistles? Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Max started to cry. Helen watched her son run toward his bedroom. A couple of the other children also started crying as the parents tried to console them; some had already donned their coats, ready to leave.

“Uh, should I continue singing?” Raul asked. Helen barely heard him as her thoughts drifted toward the contents of her liquor cabinet.


Written for "KiyaSama's 'Terrible Two' Short Story Challenge"
Prompt: I love me a good story, so in no more than 500 words, write about the WORST birthday ever!
Word Count: 499