Gettin Iggy Wit It

My friend Iggy had a party for his 14th birthday.

I hung out with him in 8th grade and we had art class together. He lived across town so I didn’t really get to go over to his house much. He stayed over at my place a few times but his mom always sent him over with special meals when he did, claiming he was allergic to pretty much everything and had to exist on a gluten-free, nut-free, soy-free, sugar-free diet.

So, his 14th birthday shindig was the first time I was over at his house. There were a bunch of us kids there – girls and boys – which surprised me a bit because Iggy always seemed shy and I thought, “If he knows all these people, why the heck’s he hanging around with me?” Also, I saw while I was there that his family was some weird Eastern European religion and that the reason he always came to my place with his own food was that they could never share food with nonbelievers or some such crap. I didn’t understand it then, I sure don’t get it now.

Anyway, his mom brings out this awesome cake – three tiers, beautifully iced, gorgeous and sensational, mouth-watering. We all about knocked each other over lining up for a piece. Then Iggy’s mom informs us all rather matter-of-factly that, because of their religion, the cake is for Iggy and family only and that she’s got these cheap-ass store-bought cupcakes for us kids. We couldn’t believe it.

Yeah.  Iggy and I weren’t friends much after that.

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