It is my birthday, so I am not going to do any CIPA work at
all, no sir.
My family are always most solicitous on my birthday. I think they are worried that having a
birthday on Halloween is symbolic of something more fundamentally disturbing, and
they are taking no chances. There is
therefore an established format for the day and we stick to it year on year. Mainly it involves getting me sufficiently
drunk that I couldn’t do anything evil even if I tried, though some years I
have tried very hard and some years, to be fair, I have been very provoked.
They always buy me nice-smelling bath products and scented
candles. The candles are to ward off
evil spirits, and the bath products are to lure me into having a bath so that
they can check whether I float or not.
Sometimes they put apples in the bath too, which do float, and I am
supposed to get them out with my teeth, which is supposed to be good fun but I
don’t know if you have ever tasted an apple covered in bath oil; it is not
nice.
Since it is my birthday, they refuse to let me cook
anything, especially anything in a cauldron, and most especially that recipe
with the newts’ eyeballs. They refuse to
let me do any housework either, on the grounds that a broom can give you
backache and we cannot have the birthday girl getting broom-induced backache. And at bedtime they decorate my room with
garlic and pretty little crosses, and chain me to the bed to avoid me getting
disturbed in the night. It is all
terribly considerate of them.
And without fail, the following morning some joker will
greet me with: “It’s alright, Mum, you can take the Halloween mask off now!”
Oh ha ha LOL.
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