THAT MOUSE IS HIGH
Copyright © 2009 Scott Semegran. Photo by Jean Scheijen.
Smashwords Edition
For more stuff by Scott Semegran, please go to:
http://www.scottsemegran.com
The special day had arrived. I pulled into the parking lot, found a spot in the front, and ran in the party store. In an effort to save time, I had a concise list of supplies I needed to purchase: 12 napkins, 12 paper plates, one table cloth, and 12 gift bags, all with a particular Disney character on them. You know, the mouse? I also had to purchase six rubber balloons and one Mylar balloon to be blown up into a festive balloon bouquet, weighted down by a festive balloon bouquet weight. You know, because of last time? You don't know? Well, it's best you didn't know at this point. I was on a mission.
I found all the stuff on my list and waited at the balloon counter for the balloon girl to blow up my daughter's balloon bouquet. You see, it was my daughter's birthday, the most special day of all days of the year. Except for maybe Christmas or Halloween, a kid's birthday is the epitome of everything a kid deems magical: candy, cake, attention, ice cream, gifts, more attention, friends, fun, even more attention. It's the end-all, be-all of a kid's existence. And it was my duty to make sure it all went down in the most magical of ways. Shit, the pressure was getting to me. I only had a couple of hours before go-time. And I had to get all of the mouse-themed party supplies to the other mouse-themed place: Chester E. Cheddar's Pizzeria and Party House. I could only hope they served beer there. At ten o'clock in the morning, I already needed a pint, or three.
The balloon girl handed me the balloon bouquet, her lazy bong-hit smile sliding across her pimply face, and I paid for all the party shit as quick as I could and flew out the door. The cake! I had to pick up the cake at the grocery store and a few other things on my to-do list.
I parked the car in the front of the parking lot, hopped out of the car while shoving the balloons back in the car, and ran into the grocery store. Picking a cart and maneuvering through the entrance, I drove that sucker to the bakery and skidded to the counter. Sophia! A cake for Sophia! I screamed. It was go-time people, come on! Put out your cigarettes, get off your break, and give me some service. Fifteen seconds went by...
Then fifteen more seconds went by...
Then thirty more seconds went by...
It was like a fucking eternity.
Finally, a rotund Mexican lady shuffled out from the back of the store. She smiled an easy smile, one that was actually quite comforting, but only if it had been any other day besides today.
Sophia? I asked, kind of frantic.
Allí, she said, pointing to the end of the bakery counter.
A large box sat on top of the glass case. I looked inside and sure enough, the cake had "Happy 4th Birthday, Sophia!" decorated on top. I felt a small lump swell in my throat and I choked back a whimper and a tear. My little baby was -*sniff*- four years old. Unbelievable. Four years of memories started to roll through my mind, her baby years, her toddler years, previous birthday parties. But there wasn't any time for that. OH SHIT! I thought. I gotta go! I tossed the cake into the cart and drove off.
Buenas dias, she said.
That's right, lady. Feliz cumpleaños!
***
The parking lot of Chester E. Cheddar's Pizzeria and Party House was empty so I pulled into a spot right up front and unloaded the party stuff. Sophia wasn't going to arrive with the rest of our family for another 15 minutes, which meant time to setup the table and... well, uh... see if beer was available.
I took all the party stuff to our table. I noticed on the way, behind the cashier counter, that there was a beer tap, glistening under the fluorescent lights. So I promptly placed all the stuff on our table and ordered a cold mug of beer. It quenched my nerves immediately, pushing the stress to a quiet place. And it was gone in four gulps. I ordered another mug and sat at the table, surveying the empty pizzeria.
The balloon bouquet was swaying back and forth from the air conditioner on the table and I immediately fell into a memory of last year's birthday party. The last year's balloon bouquet was this massive, colorful blob of Disney and Nickelodeon characters, twisted together with rainbow ribbons and string. To me, it was an expensive helium trap, slowly withering to its eminent, deflated demise. But to my daughter, it was a delight. The smiling character heads and flowery spheres made my little girl smile so big that I thought she would pull a cheek muscle. And as birthday parties go, hers was a frantic one with people calling her name left and right for photos and hugs and more photos. After one photo too many, she loosened her grip on the balloon bouquet and it launched itself on a gust of wind upward and onward toward the stratosphere. As it heaved itself above the overpass of I-35, it steadily ascended to outer space right above our heads. And Sophia cried. And cried. And cried. And cried until she fell asleep in the car. A great day ruined in a split second. I could vividly see her sad, sleeping face in my mind.
And then I saw her smiling face in front of me. As if coming out of a trance, I blinked my eyes and shook my head and there she was, my little girl standing in front of me, her big smile plastered on her cute face. She must have come into the pizzeria while I was daydreaming.
Wow daddy! she said. She was holding a Chester E. Cheddar doll under her arm.
Wow what, sweetheart? I asked, placing my hands on her chubby cheeks.
The balloons are beautiful, daddy.
You like them?
I love them! Are they going to fly away, daddy?
Absolutely not. Not today.
Is Chester here, daddy? she asked, looking around for that goddamn mouse.
I'm sure he is, sweetheart. Maybe he's in his dressing room. You know... primping?
What's a dressing room, daddy?
Oh, nevermind about that right now. Where is everybody?
She pointed to the entrance and sure enough, her grandparents, her mother, her sister, her friends, and random other people were coming in. The Chester E. Cheddar's Pizzeria and Party House was coming to life, as it should. It was my daughter's birthday. And it was time for more beer!
***
Daddy? Where is Chester? Sophia asked.
I don't know, sweetheart. I'm sure he'll be out soon, I said.
But I want to see him now.
Go play with your friends and your sister. He'll be out soon.
Sophia ran off to play and I looked at the wife and shrugged my shoulders. We had accomplished what we needed to so the party would be a success. But we knew Sophia's day wouldn't be complete without a visit and a hug from Chester E. Cheddar himself. But his whereabouts were a secret, I guess. My father-in-law, who was sitting in a booth next to me, noticed something was wrong. He put his hand on my shoulder and leaned toward me.