Happy Birthday Matty! A novel.

Tuesday May 20th, 2008
I am 26 years old today.
It was a good day at work, I resurrected the foosball table from my parents basement and had it installed on my paper delivery truck. AirFoosOne- Make It So! There was a picnic, food, fun, and Quinn "I play until I Bleed" bleeding all over and ruining the fun.
After work, I crashed Harry's Bar and Grill where there is a tradition of UITS staffers eating mini hamburgers as appetizers and then moving on to the main course of nachos. Harry has excellent taste in the decor of the bar, as well as drink choices, but I was unable to indulge in the tasties because I was headed over to Zaffiro's for some pizza with the fam.
What I did not realize, was that my Goose Island specialty beers were incredibly strong, the delicious Pere Jaque and Matilda varieties, and after 1 and 1/2 drinks, there was no chance in my feeling comfortable enough behind the wheel for the 5 minute drive. So my folks came and picked me up out of their way.
Threat level bumped up to Yellow.
Zaffiro's was awesome, Sarah Lange and Rachel Payden joined us randomly, and we had delicious food and lots of it. Cheesy bread, that huge salad they serve, Everything But Fish and a veggie pizza complemented the awesome homemade Chianti, with spumoni to top it all off. Awesome.
Then we went our merry ways, Shannon, Lillian and I were dropped off at our car in front of Harry's and we started the drive home. Tension was in the air because Chad and Sarah had both called me looking for a good time, and I was on the mum of whether or not I should ask Shannon about going out on a Tuesday night. I caved and said I wanted to go out, so she hastily dropped me off in front of The Terminal and kicked up dust like Bo and Luke in the General Lee, if the General Lee was a '99 green Chevy Cavalier.
Threat level escalated to Red.
I was only slightly bitter at The Terminal, but my friends are always there to forgive and let me lament however annoying it probably gets. Chad, Sarah, and one of Sarah's classmates Michelle were there, and Andy immediately showed up after getting the call of duty. The atmosphere was right and we enjoyed ourselves discussing all sorts of intellectual topics, such as the differences between Corporate Banks and Credit Unions, rejecting the downplaying of graduating with an Associates Degree, the shame that comes hand in hand with wanting to play video games for days at a time without break, and the amazement at immersing yourself into the Grand Theft Auto series while actually caring about the story. We drank and were merry, and that's when I put on the duck costume.
Threat level probably on the back burner simmering to Dark Red and thickening.
It's Sarah's pride and joy, kept in the trunk of her car for any and every such occasion. While I was in the bathroom putting it on, Some guy is walking towards the door and sees Sarah outside, patiently waiting. Thinking there is a boyfriend throwing up inside, he says to her "I probably know what's going on in there." He walks in and sees A 6 foot fluffy white duck with a huge padded butt, standing at the mirror putting his beak on. "I didn't expect that," he says straight faced to me. He steps outside and says more to himself than to Sarah, "I didn't expect that," comes back in and then heads over to the urinal.
What, you've never seen a duck before? WTF?
The night gets even sillier, old guys tell us horribly long and unfunny jokes about ducks, people keep staring at me for no reason, and everything has gone fuzzy due to my exhale coming out of the beak at a bad angle and fogging my glasses, so I took them off. A drunk and divorced guy wearing a sweater that says Brew City Keg Department buys me a shot and tells me how he got custody of his 4 year old daughter. We drink to daughters growing up like their fathers.
The night probably gets even more hilarious, then we decide to call it quits and head home. Andy takes me over to Taco Bell, where I accuse the drive through window man of making up all the names of their menu items to which he ashamedly confesses. We order cheap random foodstuffs, and I get dumped on my front porch to finish them off. I go inside, try and calm Tobey down who is whimpering like a Beagle puppy should, and them stumble into bed waking up my wife who probably wasn't sleeping anyway. It is late.
Threat level somewhere around white hot.
In the morning, I am hung over. Bad. Bad enough that I don't get out of bed and call into work to take a half day. I listen to the morning unfold, Shannon and Lillian doing their morning things, getting ready and screaming at Tobey because he has diarrhea and keeps pooping on the carpet. I also have the sh*ts, but at least I'm potty trained. I crawl back into bed, roll over and sleep for another 45 minute period. Weird dreams with lucid real world happenings intersperse, and I finally get up because I'm feeling better and it sounds like Shannon is making the final push to get out of the house. Tobey poops again as if on cue, and I try to help but get scolded so I just stand there like a helpless imbecile. I walk Tobey outside as they are leaving, and Shannon tells me that Tobey probably got the craps because there was some food on the front steps, something that looked like Taco Bell.
Threat level has reached zen-like nexus.
I stand in the front yard barefoot in my pajamas, holding the leash of a dog pooping in the garden next to me, the sun is slapping me in the face and I watch my family wave goodbye as they drive away.
I am 26 years old.
Happy Birthday Matty.