Raymundo counted the plastic bags on his kitchen table, twenty in all. Some had stretched handles from the weight inside, others slumped sideways. He quickly shifted one slumped bag away from the edge.
DJ was clicking his pen repeatedly as he stood on the other side of the table. His eyes flicked between the list in his hand and the bags.
"Okay," he looked up at DJ. "When you asked me for help with party favors, you didn't tell me you were buying out the entire craft store."
"Ha." DJ's eyes rolled. "Maybe we should have hired you for the entertainment."
"I still can't believe you are hiring a clown for Chris' first birthday." Raymundo peeked in one of the bags, filled with stacks of pastel blue paper. "He's not going to remember a thing."
"But my wife will." DJ shook his head and set down the list and pen. "And she'll never forgive me if our party doesn't outshine the birthday party the Mitchells put on for Jimmy."
"Wow." Raymundo looked in another bag. Eight jars of thick white paste sat on the bottom. "What are we making that needs this much paste?"
"Everyone is getting their own mini pinata." DJ pointed to another bag. "And there's technically sixteen jars of paste."
"Why?" DJ shrugged. "So, six paper mache pinatas?"
"No. Twenty pinatas."
"What?"
"Everyone, including the adults, are getting a pinata.” DJ sighed. “So, twenty, balloon shaped, pinatas.”
“You are going to fill my whole kitchen with wet, glue and paper coated balloons!” Raymundo spread his arms out.
“Well I can’t fill my kitchen with balloons.” DJ shrugged. “We’ve got to eat. But you can crash at Becky’s and eat there.”
“You are ridiculous.” Raymundo sighed and started moving bags. “You and your wife.”
“But you love my circus.” DJ grinned and started laying down newspapers on the bare patch of table Ray made. “Which is why you are my best friend.”
“Oh, and here I thought it was because I’m half alien.” Opening a jar of paste allowed the thick odor to fill the small apartment.
“That’s the second reason you are my best friend.” Raymundo tossed an empty plastic bag at DJ in an attempt to keep DJ from seeing his own smile grow.
“Let’s just get to work or we’ll never get done.”
At first, the young men goofed off making noises with the balloons, reliving some juvenile antics, before actually attempting to get serious. With sticky hands and breathless laughter, twenty balloons were covered in strips of pastel blue paper.
“My apartment’s going to smell like paste for a week.” Raymundo half heatedly grumbled as DJ made his exit.
Word count: 445
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