Party Invitation: Draft

You are grudgingly invited by

the anti-social curmudgeon

(aka The Ogre Of Greene)

to the obligatory birthday partyish event for

The Army Dude's Mom

who is turning 90

despite the stress of having raised this pain in the butt.

He doesn't really want you at his house

but will tolerate you between the hours of

5-6 p.m.

Food will be thrown in your general direction

(wear a raincoat).

You are discouraged from lingering and talking.

Merrymaking is strictly prohibited.

In short, get out as quickly as you can.

The ogre is armed.

****

The Army Dude was in a combative mood when we started working on plans for his mother's 90th birthday party (I put it down to occupational hazard). There is also a huge gulf between the types of parties he and I have planned. The last event he had a hand in catering was a cookout for 200 Army dudes who had spent the day jumping out of aircraft and were therefore hungry enough to devour hamburgers that had been cooked earlier and kept hot by means of covered hotel pans and sterno. My last party involved tiny sandwiches and flowered teacups.

Eventually, I just stopped listening and began writing the invitation, reading aloud as I went. The Army Dude made a few sputtering noises (something about "not at the invitation-writing stage of planning," I think) and then started to help. By the time I doodled the ogre, we were finally getting somewhere.