The Birthday Party

Once the lawn chairs have been folded and stacked inside the shed, the plastic wrap stretched across rows of cheese glistening with sweat to be stuffed into the fridge and forgotten, the shrieking of grandchildren and boozy chatter of distant relations swept out the front door and down the driveway, and the candles—slabs of wax carved into a 7 and 5 and crusted with cake—tossed into the sink to be dealt with later, the man lifts legs snaked with purple veins onto the recliner and makes his annual wish: that he won’t be here this time next year.

From Guest Contributor Doug Koziol

Doug is the Fiction Editor for Redivider, a journal of new literature and art. His work has appeared in CounterPunch, Driftwood Press, and theEEEL.

Abnormal

Ben's parents adopted him late in their lives. They fed him and encouraged him to make friends and planned elaborate birthday parties that no other children came to. They did their best to give him a normal life, but something just seemed wrong with him.

Eventually, Ben's parents realized they had been wasting their time. What was the point of adopting a child if he wasn't going to attract more children to their home in the woods? They could have just kidnapped him and baked him into a pie and saved a whole lot of money on clothes and tuition.