Birthday Boy

Henry came downstairs and saw Junior sitting at the kitchen table, wearing a party hat. He sighed deeply, as he'd already done many times that week.

"OK," said Henry, "I'll bite. What's with the hat?" His son Junior ignored him and shoveled another fistful of cake into his mouth. Marion, Henry's wife, beamed proudly.

"Why, we're having a party for Little Junior," said Marion.

"Really? What's the occasion? He's eligible for Social Security?" said Henry.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Marion. "Today is Junior's birthday, and you know it!"

"Cheezus H. Rice," said Hank. "Don't you think "Little Junior's" getting a bit big for a birthday party?"

"If my little boy wants a birthday party, then I'm going to see to it that he gets one," said Marion, her voice breaking the way it always did before one of her crying jags.

"Marion, your little boy's 36 years old! For God's sake, do they even sell that many candles?"

For the record, I'm officially done with birthdays. It just seems silly to me for adults to celebrate them. Sure, it's fun having cake, presents and a party when you're a kid, but once you get past 21, it's time to give it a rest. No adult wants to be reminded that they're one year closer to death.

Drawn in Photoshop on the graphic tablet.



Here's the sketch for Birthday Boy. His right hand is missing because I started too close to the edge of the paper. When I was drawing him for real, I couldn't think of anything to put in his hand. I thought about a cake or some kind of party favor, but at the last minute settled on a cupcake.