Last week I told Mum I wanted to go to Chuck E. Cheese’s for my birthday. So this morning she said “Get in the car, I have a big surprise for you!” and I got all excited. Yay! Chuck E. Cheese’s! But when I got out of the car ready to play games and win prizes and whatnot, I saw a big ugly sign for Zucky’s Cheeses. Not Chuck E. Cheese’s. ZUCKY’S. CHEESES.
Then, instead of finally getting to meet Chuckford E. Cheese, the legendary teenage mouse, I met some old lady named Margritte holding a platter of parmesan. She smelled like vanilla and dog pee. Her parmesan wasn’t even that good.
Zucky’s Cheeses is a cheese shop by our house. It’s nothing like Chuck E. Cheese’s. It’s not even for kids. But Mum kept patting me on the back and saying, “I’m so happy and proud that you wanted Zucky’s Cheeses for your birthday, Daryl! Very grown up of you!” And I couldn’t tell her no, no, NO. Mum, I said I wanted CHUCK E. Cheese’s. So I just cried in the store and they gave me a free cheddar stick. Dumb terrible day.
Plus, the only light up machine in the whole place was an ATM. It didn’t even get me tickets. Zucky’s Cheeses? More like LAME Cheeses. The cheddar stick wasn’t even that good.
This has been the worst birthday EVER.