The room was hazy, like a horrid B movie, complete with a deluxe fog machine. One would truly expect the Thing or the Creature from the Black Lagoon to join the party.
And a party it was. Harold was five, and was the guest of honor. It was his long awaited Fifth Birthday. Anyone who has ever been five knows the Fifth Birthday is special. One day you are four years old, and then suddenly, without warning, the sun rises and you are mysteriously five. It's a very special day indeed for the five year old set. The wonder of it all is often lost on adults.
Harold's pudgy body is topped with a paper Birthday hat. More than likely, Mother made him wear it. It's a Birthday, darn it, and Birthday boys always wear paper Birthday hats, according to Mother. He closely resembles Pugsley Addams from that television show, the one that is on the television every day after school. Harold has always been more than slightly creeped out by Cousin It. All of the neighborhood kids are in attendance, even those who tease him mercilessly when the parents aren't around. Mother said Harold is just "big-boned". Harold wondered why nobody has ever found a fat skeleton.
The music plays in the background. Music from Harold's youth, songs that Harold hasn't heard in years. He recognized the music playing quietly in the background as songs from Mother's vast record album collection. It's oddly comforting.
As Harold looks to the left, he sees his Father. Harold's father, sitting right there in his favorite Lazy-boy lounger just as he sat every evening when he read the paper. Father was talking to a man who was a spitting-image of Harold's father. How could that be? The man looked exactly like Harold's father, but was dressed differently and had a mustache. Harold was more than slightly confused.
"Mister! Mister! Are you all right?" The disembodied voice said. "Are you all right?"
Harold glanced back to the left, and his Father was gone. The comforting background music was gone. The birthday party was gone. A pretty young girl wearing too much blue eye shadow and sporting a nose ring was asking if he was all right. He didn't think he was. He was sprawled on a tile floor, sporting a vicious headache and wet pants.