I had been planning this party for weeks. It just had to
be perfect; after all, you don't turn fifteen every day. And it was, just as planned. We enjoyed ourselves
like we'd never party again. Everything was just perfect...that is, until the
unwrapping of the gifts started.
***
I settled down and reached for the nearest parcel
and ripped it open. Out fell a book, 'Mousetrap' by Agatha Christie. I
squealed, for it was the very thing I'd been wanting for a long time. (And when
I say a long time, I mean a long time.)
There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere, but I
was too blissfully oblivious to be aware of anything going on around me. I
ignored whatever was going on, and happily tore open a big box. This one was stuffed with paper all through, and
once I'd pushed my hand into its depths, I felt something and pulled it out.
I looked at it, almost laughing but stopped as I
looked around. Each of my friends had the same stricken look as the next, some
of them clearly trying hard not to laugh.
***
"Well,"
I said to myself in bed that night, "Look at the bright side - you
have 8 copies of the same book...isn't that exciting?"
***
I am making a wish list from next year.
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