#168 - Party!
I don’t know what it is, but when I see the word party I can’t help but think birthday. Seems pretty natural, right?
The thing is, it took me a really long time to even get a halfway decent birthday party worth remembering, and only one fantastically good one. And now, I’m look forward to the next one.
Let me explain. Heck, I’ll even do it in a nicely laid out list of sorts.
Childhood: Was just my mom and me for a while. We didn’t have a lot of money, but she tried. Unfortunately, it wasn’t anything worth while, I guess, because I don’t really remember. I think I got a G.I. Joe one year. Then after I was eight was when Step Dad came into the picture, so there was more money and effort into birthdays… but it wasn’t for me. It was to be extravagant and show off to his friends and co-workers to show how much he had. (Even if he didn’t like me at all.) And they all brought their spoiled and bratty kids and I was expected to play nice. I usually didn’t, so these birthdays were usually disastrous, and finally stopped.
Thirteen: Doug hadn’t been wrong when he claimed it always happened at parties. At least, it did in my case. This was the day I discovered I was a mutant. It was just the three of us, my Mom had cooked dinner and we’d already eaten. She was trying to light the candles on my birthday cake and the Step Dad and I were fighting. I was so angry that accidentally set the kitchen on fire. At the time? Not the thrill it is now.
Fourteen: Living on the streets after I ran away from home. So, yeah. No party. Except that was the day that this street bum caught me off guard and jumped me, and cut my arm. I set his shoes on fire. That was cool.
Fifteen: Still on the streets. Had been running with this small group of other runaway mutant kids. You think I am (or was) unruly? You should have seen this group of bastards. Anyway, one of them had stolen a keg of beer from somewhere (yes, a keg) and we found this abandoned lot. We sat around and drank and drank and drank some more. I had never been that drunk in my entire life up to that point, and haven’t been since. I passed out cold. I woke up in the morning and found them all gone, along with my backpack and all my belongings, save for the clothes on my back. The first thing I stole that day was a lighter and then some aspirin.
Sixteen: At the Institute. Had been there for nearly eleven months already. Knew a bunch of people, but wouldn’t say that I was particularly close with any of them. Still, the younger kids baked cupcakes (one of the teachers must have tipped them off) and I was given a few small gifts (discman and CDs, a couple books, some clothes.) It was all rather lame. But later that night, me and one of the senior girls snuck out into the bushes behind the school and I received my real birthday present of a make-out session. (No, I will NOT name names.) Of course, wasn’t nearly as impressed as I should have been but wasn’t sure why at that point.
Seventeen: Still at the Institute. Me and some of the older kids snuck out to that old abandoned barn. Had a few drinks, played some poker. We didn’t have money, of course, so winning wasn’t gaining but losing was forfeiting. I think I made some kid run around in his underwear at some point. Anyway, pretty good times. The best part was when me and this guy snuck out and had a make-out session (no, I will NOT name names, especially since the big guy could crush me if he found out.) A lot of things made a lot more sense that time.
Eighteen: With the Brotherhood for nearly a year. And probably the best birthday party to date. Really. We were located in [encrypted] at the time. A nice fancy dinner arranged by Magneto for us all, lots of cool gifts - dudes, FLAME THROWERS - and then I got to stay in this penthouse suite of a luxurious hotel. It was awesome. Me and a couple of the others went out clubbing and drinking. I was nicely buzzed when I ditched them and picked up a really hot guy or two to take back to the hotel. Awesome fucking day, man. Thanks again, Magneto.
Nineteen: This is the one I look forward to, but maybe not in the way you all think. Basically… well, I just want to make it to that day. And if when I do, I will be throwing the biggest fucking party, man.
The thing is, it took me a really long time to even get a halfway decent birthday party worth remembering, and only one fantastically good one. And now, I’m look forward to the next one.
Let me explain. Heck, I’ll even do it in a nicely laid out list of sorts.
Childhood: Was just my mom and me for a while. We didn’t have a lot of money, but she tried. Unfortunately, it wasn’t anything worth while, I guess, because I don’t really remember. I think I got a G.I. Joe one year. Then after I was eight was when Step Dad came into the picture, so there was more money and effort into birthdays… but it wasn’t for me. It was to be extravagant and show off to his friends and co-workers to show how much he had. (Even if he didn’t like me at all.) And they all brought their spoiled and bratty kids and I was expected to play nice. I usually didn’t, so these birthdays were usually disastrous, and finally stopped.
Thirteen: Doug hadn’t been wrong when he claimed it always happened at parties. At least, it did in my case. This was the day I discovered I was a mutant. It was just the three of us, my Mom had cooked dinner and we’d already eaten. She was trying to light the candles on my birthday cake and the Step Dad and I were fighting. I was so angry that accidentally set the kitchen on fire. At the time? Not the thrill it is now.
Fourteen: Living on the streets after I ran away from home. So, yeah. No party. Except that was the day that this street bum caught me off guard and jumped me, and cut my arm. I set his shoes on fire. That was cool.
Fifteen: Still on the streets. Had been running with this small group of other runaway mutant kids. You think I am (or was) unruly? You should have seen this group of bastards. Anyway, one of them had stolen a keg of beer from somewhere (yes, a keg) and we found this abandoned lot. We sat around and drank and drank and drank some more. I had never been that drunk in my entire life up to that point, and haven’t been since. I passed out cold. I woke up in the morning and found them all gone, along with my backpack and all my belongings, save for the clothes on my back. The first thing I stole that day was a lighter and then some aspirin.
Sixteen: At the Institute. Had been there for nearly eleven months already. Knew a bunch of people, but wouldn’t say that I was particularly close with any of them. Still, the younger kids baked cupcakes (one of the teachers must have tipped them off) and I was given a few small gifts (discman and CDs, a couple books, some clothes.) It was all rather lame. But later that night, me and one of the senior girls snuck out into the bushes behind the school and I received my real birthday present of a make-out session. (No, I will NOT name names.) Of course, wasn’t nearly as impressed as I should have been but wasn’t sure why at that point.
Seventeen: Still at the Institute. Me and some of the older kids snuck out to that old abandoned barn. Had a few drinks, played some poker. We didn’t have money, of course, so winning wasn’t gaining but losing was forfeiting. I think I made some kid run around in his underwear at some point. Anyway, pretty good times. The best part was when me and this guy snuck out and had a make-out session (no, I will NOT name names, especially since the big guy could crush me if he found out.) A lot of things made a lot more sense that time.
Eighteen: With the Brotherhood for nearly a year. And probably the best birthday party to date. Really. We were located in [encrypted] at the time. A nice fancy dinner arranged by Magneto for us all, lots of cool gifts - dudes, FLAME THROWERS - and then I got to stay in this penthouse suite of a luxurious hotel. It was awesome. Me and a couple of the others went out clubbing and drinking. I was nicely buzzed when I ditched them and picked up a really hot guy or two to take back to the hotel. Awesome fucking day, man. Thanks again, Magneto.
Nineteen: This is the one I look forward to, but maybe not in the way you all think. Basically… well, I just want to make it to that day. And if when I do, I will be throwing the biggest fucking party, man.