Chuckie To The Rescue

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
NEW PROMPT:Write a story or poem about a birthday celebration without one of the letters in the word "celebration"-- A, B, C, E, I, L, N, O, R or T. You can choose which letter of the ten not to use (and please post that letter at the top of your item), but the letter cannot appear anywhere in the actual poem or story. (I'm really interested to see how some of you will spell the word "birthday,"
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
I chose NOT to use the letter B.
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to!” That song expressed exactly how the little girl felt. She was sitting alone, crying tearfully, completely deserted at her own party. Her parents were at one side of the colorfully-decorated dining room, trying to think of what to do to make their child happier. Nothing came to mind, and they simply stood there, quietly wanting to cry in sympathy with her.

For weeks, Jenny had planned the event with her parents. The cake was covered with ten candles that had melted down to puddles of pink wax. Her store-purchased cake with pink and white frosting took center place. She had, however, proudly made the fruit punch herself. The Canada Dry Ginger Ale mixed with grape Juicy Juice was diluted now from all the melted ice she had put in the punch hours earlier.

“Sam,” asked her mother, when a sudden thought came to her, “are you sure you sent out the invitations?” She looked over at Jenny’s father when saying this, a hopeful expression on her face. “There were 10 of them, and I put them in the front pocket of your green jacket last Tuesday night right after dinner. You’d put it in the closet and planned to wear it on Wednesday. I did ask you to mail the invitations, didn’t I?”

Sam slowly shook his head while answering, “No, Anne, you didn’t tell me, at least I don’t think you did. Also, I haven’t worn that particular jacket on Wednesday or any day since then.”

“Oh, no! It’s our fault her party is ruined.” Anne glanced at her still crying daughter, then looked at Sam for a resolution to this crisis. She knew he was excellent at finding solutions to any situation, either at home or work. Once again, he came through.

“Jenny,” her smiling father said, kneeling next to his little girl. “How would you like to go to Chucky Cheese and have your party today just with Mommy and Daddy?” Upon seeing the tear-covered cheeks on his child starting to dry up, he helped her to her feet and added, “We can send out more invitations and have a delayed or un-party with your friends next week. Would you like that?”

Jenny sniffled one last time, thinking the plan sounded like fun. “Daddy, I can go to Chucky Cheese and have an un-party just like the Mad Hatter had, too?” When her father nodded, Jenny took her father’s hand and reached for one of her mother’s hands.

Practically skipping in excitement, the happy little girl pulled her parents toward the front door. In this way, and with the help of a resourceful and loving father, a major childhood crisis was averted. Not every child gets to enjoy two parties simply when turning 10 years of age.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Microsoft Word count = 470

"The Writer's Cramp - Poetry Week!"  daily contest entry for 01/22/08
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////