Birthday Boy
Today is gonna be a helluva day. If you must know, today's my goddam seventeenth birthday. You know what I don't get, I just don't get why people make such a big deal about birthdays. Who wants to celebrate getting one year closer to dying anyways? Though I really don't mind the part where I get presents, except I always get lousy stuff. I remember one year, I got this crumby picture book, when I was in grade school, for Chrissake. That kinda stuff annoys the hell outta me. I mean, not to brag or anything, but I probably read more books in a month than anyone else reads in their whole damn life or something. No kidding.
My mother made a huge deal of this lousy party, as always. It's like if she doesn't spend tons of dough on a party or whatever, it would be a complete waste of time. Boy, that kinda stuff just about kills me. I mean, my father's a bigshot lawyer and all, so we aren't too tight with dough, especially me. I bet if you gave me a handful of change, I would've lost it all by the end of the day. You could damn well follow the trail of lost change and make a nice bundle, seriously. My mother hates that; she could just throw away dough on lousy parties, but she goes ballistic if I lost just one goddam cent. But she's my mother and all, and you don't say that kinda stuff to your mother.
Just about then, my relatives started showing up. I know they're my family and all, but they're the biggest bunch of phonies you'll ever meet, no kidding. All these aunts suffocate me with their cheap, cumby perfume that takes hours to get outta my hair. They'll pinch my cheeks 'til they are black and blue, and croon over how much I've grown. I'll bet even if I shrunk, they would still say that. That kind of phony crap drives me crazy. My uncles act so damn superior all the time. You should've seen one of my uncles just casually roll up his sleeve, where you would have to be blind to not notice his fancy gold Rolex. Hell, it'll probably blind you if you look at it for too long. If you were there, it would make you wanna toss your cookies.
Anyway, the cousins aren't too bad, the little ones, but some of the older ones are even phonier than their parents, if you could believe such a thing. Of course they go to the best school, get the best grades, just to rub it in your face, all snooty and all. Just goes to show there was no damn molding going on at those schools, not at all. My old school, Pencey Prep, the one I got kicke out of, they're always telling people in these phony advertisements how they mold guys into "splendid, clear-thinking young men." Load of crap, if you ask me, but no one ever does. It depresses the hell outta me, how nobody ever listens to kids. Take Phoebe, my kid sister, who's twice as smart as anyone I've ever met. If you stuck her in a room full of adults, no one would listen to a goddam thing she says, even if it's a hundred times more intelligent than every lousy thing that comes outta their mouths. That kills me, it really does.
In a weird way, I kinda miss everyone in my family, even the stuck-up, snooty cousins of mine. It's like you miss someone like hell when they're away, but you'll start wishing they don't exist once you see them again. So I'm sure that ten minutes into the party, I'm gona wish I was living in a goddam cave in Africa or something.