This was the day of my 5th birthday. And, this was the day that my mom threw for me one very disturbing party.

The plan seemed okay at first: a party with all my friends at the neighborhood ice cream parlor, and we'd have a pinata. That much I got to plan. What my mom planned, though, that's where it gets weird.

First of all, my mother apparently didn't understand the joy that a little kid gets when he/she greedily scavenges for candy on the ground after a pinata cracks open. This is evident from the fact that she stuffed the pinata with noise makers and little toys.

Second, she didn't understand that even though we intend to beat the crap out of the pinata, we choose pinata characters that we are fond of. I chose Big Bird, because when I was 5 I thought he was cool. This lack of understanding on her part is evident from the fact that instead of letting us whack Big Bird with a baseball bat, she slit his throat and walked him around the table letting each kid grab a ration of party favors out of his torso. It's rather demoralizing to see a childhood hero decapitated; his corpse paraded around for show. If I have a wife and kid someday, and my wife attempts to throw a party for our child, I'll make damn sure she knows how a pinata works before scarring our child for life!

Third, she didn't understand that the kids at the party are all supposed to be my friends. Some random 10 year old girl I didn't know showed up. Her name was Jolie. I guess she was a friend of my sister's, and my mom thought it would be nice to invite her. I think she was new in town and didn't have lots of friends. Like hanging out with a gaggle of 5 year olds is going to make her feel less awkward, right? Anyways...

The ice cream and the presents I got were fun, and seeing all of my friends trying to have a good time in spite of the messed up entertainment plans was nice. I could really tell which friends were truly my friends. Which, was all of them. Because, hey, we were all 5 years old and 5 year olds don't really do any backstabbing or act real cold and evil yet. We all watched the Smurfs on a regular basis, so how evil could we be?

And that Jolie girl was actually kinda cute, as I figured out years later. A 5 year age difference isn't so bad at this point. But what am I going to do? Call her up and start flirting about the time she extracted toys from the torso of a decapitated effigy of one of my childhood heroes in between servings of ice cream? Again, I tell you, I'm scarred for life. Sigh.

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