Is it really Wednesday already? It’s back-to-school week for us here, so with the schedule change, I keep losing track of the days. We’ve had a great beginning, though. I hope it’s been going well for all of you, as well.
Today’s prompt is special because one of my favorite seventh-graders wrote it! Enjoy. 😊
“…happy birthday to you!” the group of kids finished, singing – or, rather shouting – out of tune. They all started cheering their heads off and eyeing the cake hungrily. Mike wondered if he would get any.
Mike was turning nine years old, and he was excited. In truth, he had turned nine a couple days earlier, on a Wednesday, but the party was this week because most of his friends had been on vacation earlier. Mike preferred hamburgers, but they had pizza at the party. It would probably fit the general populations’ taste better.
The pizza had long been devoured, and all that remained were a few crumbs at the bottom of the boxes. One of his friends, Silas, a nerdy, overweight kid, was licking the crumbs from one of the boxes.
All eyes around him were on the cake, waiting for Mike’s mom to cut it. Mike knew he was supposed to get the first piece, but it looked like the others would pounce on it as soon as it arrived. His mom came over with a knife to start cutting the cake.
Then the cake moved. Everybody’s eyes went wide and they started screaming at the top of their lungs when the cake inched over to the edge of the table, a few centimeters at a time. Silas let out a big belch, then charged the cake with his fat little legs.
I have a bad feeling about this, Mike thought.
How fun! Mike is definitely having a birthday to remember. Please post your comments below and feel free to share.
6 thoughts on “Wednesday Writing Prompt: Happy Birthday!”
Silas put his chubby hands on both sides of the cake, then pulled. He was not strong enough to lift the cake up to his mouth, so the cake fell on its side, the frosting ruined. He pulled the chocolate cake with yellow frosting nearer and nearer to himself. At last, Mike’s mother came into the dining room, but it was too late. Silas’s head was already in the cake she had so carefully made.
Mike was a third grader, and he would not cry, but no matter how hard he tried, tears rolled down his cheeks.
This was the worst birthday in history. Mike thought. I will never invite Silas to my birthday party again. Not in ten decades!
Mike did not know that a century existed, so he said ten decades instead.
“No worries.” Mike’ mother interrupted his thoughts, “I have cookies in the pantry.”
She acted as if Silas had dropped the cake. That would be bad, but not as bad as eating the whole cake.
Mike ran into the kitchen. “Mother, didn’t you see that? He ate my birthday cake!” Mike started to cry, as third graders were not supposed to do. But this was an exception for crying.
“Do not cry, dear. We will talk with his mother, and you will get two cookies.”
“I hope Silas’s present was a chocolate cake with yellow frosting on it.” Mike mumbled.
During presents, everyone was still talking about the cake.
“Listen, children.” Mike’s mother said.
“Mrs. Tabby, how are we supposed to listen when Silas ate the cake?” A girl asked.
“You zip up your mouth.” Mrs. Tabby explained. “Now, we are going to do presents. Mike will get a present, and whoever gave the gift will say they gave it to him.”
Mike grabbed the largest present.
“They gave it to him.” called out Silas, who was just repeating what Mrs. Tabby had said..
“Who?” Mike asked.
Kids laughed, but this was clearly not funny to Mike. He opened the present, and what he had hoped for was there. A cake!
I love it, Laurel! How fun.
As Silas charged the cake, it started moving, farther and farther off the table. Mike’s mom grabbed the edge of the cake, but it hopped from her hands and onto the floor. It had white and blue frosting, because Mike’s favorite color was blue, and it smeared its outsides all over the floor. Because, of course, it landed face down, just like a buttered piece of toast.
All at once, the five nearest kids to the cake pounced on it, grabbing at it with their little hands. But it sped away from their grasp, rolling on its side. Silas continued to charge it, but was far slower than the cake. It seemed everyone knew how slow Silas was except for the boy himself.
People were shouting all at once. “Close the door!” “Eat it!” “Where’s my Mother?” “AAAAHHHH!” “Food fight!”
The first and the last got prompt action – someone closed the door just before the cake reached it, but instead of splattering across the wood, the cake rolled up the side of the door and onto the ceiling, where it somehow stayed and kept rolling around.
When someone yelled “Food fight!” people grabbed pizza, salad and french fries and started flinging them at the cake, which was still rolling across the ceiling, back and forth, looking for an escape. A kid grabbed the ketchup and stepped onto a chair, then started squirting it at the cake. But none of the third graders found their mark. The cake evaded every piece of food flung at it.
Silas jumped onto the table, hopping up and down on top of it to try to get at the cake, but failing at every attempt. His vertical couldn’t have been over two inches.
Suddenly, the table cracked under Silas’s weight, and he fell to the floor, condiments, plates, and empty boxes of pizza falling down on him.
Unseen and unheard, Mike crept around the back of the room and into the living room, which was still moderately clean. His dad was at work and his older brother was in the basement watching TV, so he was relatively alone.
Silently walking to the back door, Mike opened it slowly and then shut it, stepping outside. The fresh air was wonderful, and although he could still hear the riant behaviour of his “friends,” it was much more quiet. Mike walked across the deck to their porch swing, where he sat enjoying the peacefulness of the outdoors. This was not how he had hoped his birthday party would go. He hadn’t even wanted to have his entire third grade class invited. And although less than half of them had arrived, it was still enough kids to destroy the dining room and kitchen.
Mike’s mom had made him invite them, saying he should socialize and be nice to his class even if they didn’t know he existed. He wasn’t sure of her exact wording, but it was really annoying. Mike wasn’t mad, though. Just sad. He was nine years old. Whoop-de-do.
Suddenly, a noise interrupted Mike’s complaining. Something from overhead caught his attention. Mike stood from the porch swing, looking up into the cloudy sky. And there, from out of the blue, came a round, metal object, as shiny as polished chrome. It looked like a flying saucer from out of the movies, except larger, taller and with windows in different places. Landing pads came from the bottom, near to large thingamajiggers that looked like dollops of whipped cream on the side.
From the bottom of the UFO, for Mike was convinced that that was what it was, a ramp came out and a trap door opened. Then out rolled a huge, colorful cake, with four escorts following it. They all had the same uniform, one very similar to that of Mike’s birthday cake – two with blue frosting, two with pink.
The large cake spun around a few times in a circle then fell still, in the middle of its four escorts. It had a man in a tux and a woman in a large white dress on the top – a wedding cake.
“You have stolen our friend,” the presumed leader said, in a high-pitched voice. “Give him back or you will pay.”
Mike blinked. Then noticed the escorts, and put two and two together. “You mean the cake?”
“Cake?” asked the leader. “He was a lieutenant.”
“Right, right,” Mike said, nodding. “Okay, I’ll get him really quick.” Mike turned around and ran to the door, opening it quickly and going inside. He turned back to the space cakes. “What’s his name?”
“Mike,” the cakes answered. Mike – the human – raised an eyebrow, but promptly called the cake’s name.
“Mike!” he called. “Mike, your friends are here!”
At the sound of its name, and the sight of the open door, the cake rolled across the ceiling to the door at top speed. It then bounced to the floor and swept by the human Mike, going out the door and reuniting with its fellow cakes. They all chatted amongst themselves and headed back into the ship, which took off and disappeared into the clouds.
Mike sighed. His birthday party had been a disaster. But it had ended with the feeling that he had helped something – be it human or not. Besides, the cake was all sugar, probably not that tasty and way too unhealthy.
Mike dodged Silas’ lunge and fell on the cake. Mike stood up.
Surprisingly, the cake, instead of looking crushed, looked like nothing had happened! It jumped up, ran – or rather slid – to the open window and hopped out.
Everybody ran to the window. They all could see the little gray cake running away in the distance.
Silas looked disappointed. Mike looked stunned.
His party was a disaster.
Nice! The cake made it in this one without any bruises.
It reminds me of The Gingerbread Man!
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