This morning I had this great idea for my Auntie Jean’s birthday.
As I was collecting our chicken’s eggs (because it was my chores). I wanted to tell Mum and Dad. But especially, I was hyped to tell Uncle George.
Uncle George, what my mum calls the joke in the family, is my favorite relative.
We were going to give her a surprise party. With her favorite cake, pumpkin cake, as the surprise.
“Ugh!” Uncle George moaned (just like he did on my Mum’s birthday…she didn’t like it).
“What is it, Uncle George?” I asked.
“Hey, can I go to the shops?” He asked.
His face looked as though he’d fallen into Mrs Cranberry’s tomato pitch again.
Uncle George dashed out of the door as fast as a cat with a bad case of fleas.
I decided to wash the dishes while I was waiting for Uncle George to magically appear out of nowhere. (And because if Mum caught me doing this one hour too late, she could probably make sure Uncle George wouldn’t come back.)
Waiting for a while, I couldn’t help it but run outside to check if he’d come back (for the seven hundred and sixty fifth time). Silently, I creeped outside to make sure Mum wasn’t looking. As I walked onto the front yard , I saw my Dad’s new bike he got for his birthday tipped over, Mrs Cranberry’s orange pumpkins(oh no), flour, sugar, and butter lying down on the grass near Dad’s bike. But what was most eye-catching here was that Uncle George was stuck in a haystack?!!
He won’t be coming back to Seattle next holiday.