Twenty-Fourth Birthday

Generally, I do not enjoy birthdays. My twenty-fourth birthday was shaping up to be no exception. My father had rented this cabin out in the woods. It looked like it used to be an old hunting outpost converted into a summer camp. The whole thing was built on a slight incline, and you could see the grass had melted away from the traditional walking paths that people tended to create. There was a fire going, even though it was still early afternoon. My father was cooking at the grill and people started to show up. Perhaps what upset me the most was the fact that I did not invite anyone to this party, it was entirely based on my father's judgment. So, needless to say, the guest list was slightly inappropriate.

If anything, it felt more like a gathering of people who all had something against me. Long forgotten friends kept showing up. People I had spoken to in years, for one reason or another. Perhaps anger, perhaps neglect. Many of them were recent additions to my ever-growing collection of mistakes. Heh, one of the girls even told me I wasn't as cute as I used to be. It took me a few minutes to figure out how I felt about that. Since I was already in a crappy mood, I just took it and moved on. Apparently, an action in which I'm extremely practiced. Though, when my ex-girlfriend showed up with her new boyfriend, I knew I just couldn't take this anymore. (His hair was dark and curly, by the way.)

I took one of the dogs and started walking into the woods. Of course, my father saw me do this, and sent a few of his friends to come with me along with some more dogs so we could go fox hunting. Not really what I had in mind, but I suppose it was better than reliving a short lifetime of mistakes and bad memories. As we walked through the woods, the dogs eagerly sniffing along the dirty leaves, we came upon an old cabin. Out of the window, I swore a fox stuck poked its head out, driving the dogs into a frenzy. I let go of mine. What the hell, right? Another dog followed him through the slightly ajar door. They were unusually quiet, until I heard one of the dogs give out a high-pitched yelp. I went through the door to find one of the dogs with all of his hair singed off. The thing was still smoking slightly, his eyes downcast in shame and failure. I went and grabbed the canine, but he was not hot, just missing all of his hair. I carried him out of the house, not wanting to find whatever did this to him. Was it the fox? Perhaps a live electrical circuit? Nothing really made sense; I just knew I wanted to be as far away from there as possible.