Archive of Our Own

“No, not an ice cream cake, not a frozen yogurt cake, but a yogurt cake!” Fig shouted into the phone. “What, so you can’t?? Ugh! Well, thank you for your time!” she growled politely before hanging up the call and huffing angrily. She turned to Ayda.

“What’s so hard about making a cake and adding yogurt to it? I’ll just do it myself!” Fig announced.

“Oh, that should be interesting,” Ayda said faithfully. “Perhaps it can be like a tres leches where we pour the yogurt over the cake?”

“Ayda, you’re brilliant and I love you,” Fig said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Two true statements,” stated Ayda.

“Now we just need to make sure everything else is perfect because Gilear only gets one one-hundredth birthday!”

~~~

Cathilda knocked gently on the master bedroom door. “Master Gilear,” she called. “A package for you has just been delivered! It appears to be a birthday present.”

Gilear shuffled out of bed and into a robe, though he couldn’t manage to keep the knot on the rope tight and so he grasped the robe shut and headed to the door. He stubbed his toe on the bed stand as he walked by and sighed. One hundred years old and everything was the same. He got to the door and grunted as he opened the heavy thing.

“Thank you, Cathilda,” he said. “Do you know who it is from?”

“No, I do not. It was dropped off by a courier just now.”

“Huh. Oh well.” He reached out for it, forgetting that his hand was holding his robe closed, and the folds of the clothing opened up, revealing his underwear.

“Oh bother,” he said mournfully, wrapping himself up and reaching for the package with the hand that had been propping the door open. The door began to heavily close on him, pushing him back into the bedroom as he fumbled with the robe.

“Um… Just leave it on the floor. I will pick it up when you’re gone,” he said.

“Just as you say, Master Gilear,” the maid called back, and Gilear waited to hear her footsteps recede before hefting open the door again and grabbing the package.

Back in the bedroom, he sat on the bed and opened the plain brown wrapping. Beneath the wrapping was a brightly-decorated birthday card (featuring puppies, flowers, and balloons) alongside a small medallion. He opened the card, but saw no signature. Instead, there was a note in fine calligraphy that read “Happy Birthday. Please use this Amulet of Good Fortune to have a wonderful 100th birthday. The luck will last for one year.”

Gilear pulled out the amulet and looked it over. It didn’t look sinister, but then again it also didn’t look very lucky. It was gaudy and old. He shook his head and sighed, then put it on. Good luck or bad luck, he knew that today would be anything but ordinary.

He got dressed, tucking the amulet underneath his button-down shirt, and headed downstairs to the kitchen. As he approached the kitchen island, his teenage daughter, Gelynell, rushed past him, pausing only to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Bye, Dad! Happy birthday! I’ll be back in time for the party!” and off she went out the door.

“Party?” he asked, thoroughly confused.

His wife came by and patted him on the opposite cheek. “Don’t you remember, darling? Figueroth has planned to throw you a party at The Black Pit for your birthday this evening! I’ve helped her rent out the back room of the club.”

“A club? Me?”

“Oh, relax, Gil-gil, it’ll be fun!”

Gilear sighed and rummaged through the fridge, pulling out some yogurt, and poured some granola on top of it for breakfast. He had his doubts about how the day was going to go, but he would face it with a smile. Or at least a quiet whimper.

After breakfast, he headed off to Aguefort to perform his vice principal duties (which was mainly being mocked by teenagers ten times more powerful than him and eating yogurt in the janitor’s closet). Surprisingly, not a single teen made fun of him, and the day passed by with no major catastrophes; a rarity for the high school. He bicycled home and changed into a fresh polo shirt and slacks before heading downstairs to group up with his family and head out to the club.

They arrived a bit early, and Gelynell excitedly ran off inside the club to check out the space. While Hallariel spoke with Cathilda and her father, Telemaine, Gilear looked around nervously. He’d never been a fan of dance clubs, and his uneasiness built, a burning pit of nerves and nausea churning in his stomach. 

He slunk around a corner into an alley and pulled a portable yogurt tube out of his pocket. It was warm. He tore open the tube and began to suck down the yogurt when a voice from the shadows growled at him.

“Your money and your life!”

Startled, Gilear dropped the yogurt tube and raised up his arms. All he could see in the darkness was the gleam of a dagger. “D-Don’t you mean my money or my life?”

“No, I don’t,” sneered the shadowy figure, inching closer to Gilear. He stepped forward onto the tube of yogurt and slipped, slamming his head onto the ground. The dagger comically twirled in the air in place before falling down and stabbing the mystery man in the shoulder, though the man was too unconscious to notice.

At the sound of the commotion, several people came rushing around the corner to see what had happened.

“Isn’t that the Bastion City Stabber?”

“Yeah! He’s got that distinctive scar on his face!”

“He’s here in Elmville!?”

“I guess so, but this brave man here just subdued him!”

“Oh, I didn’t-”

“And he’s humble!”

“Three cheers for the hero!”

The cops were called and Gilear was hoisted up on peoples’ shoulders in celebration as he was marched to the police station. There, despite his protests, he was handed a five thousand GP reward for capturing a wanted felon, and a medal was pinned to his chest. To his utter shock, he didn’t get poked by the pin.

The police delivered him back to the club, wishing him a happy birthday, and as he climbed out of the front of the cop car, he saw that Fig, Sandra Lynn, and the extended network of friends and family of The Bad Kids were arriving as well.

“Oh, good, we’re right on time!” said Adaine as she walked up.

“Oh, arriving in style, I see!” teased Kristen. “You’ll have to tell us what earned you a ride in a cop car!”

Gilear groaned.

“Hey Gilear, looking good for one hundred!” called out Gorthalax.

“I know, I’m practically robbing the cradle!” joked Hallariel, to which Fabian groaned and hid his face as everyone filed into the club. 

As people filled the room, Gilear noticed that all the presents that were being placed upon the gift table looked… small and flat. He sighed, preparing himself for another year of just birthday cards with “IOU” written inside. But that would come later. First, it seemed, Fig had an event planned.

“Gilear! Get over here!” she shouted across the room. As he approached, he saw a colorful papier mâché donkey on the table behind him and blanched. Not a piñata! But yes, there it was, its doleful eyes staring at him as Gorgug threaded a rope through a loop on its back and then tossed the rope over a ceiling beam. He hoisted the donkey up until it was eye level with Gilear. Scenario after scenario flashed through his mind as he stared at it: fire ants pouring out of the piñata. Gilear missing and braining someone with the stick. Gilear missing and braining himself with the stick. He backed away.

“Ah, Figueroth, I think that I shall-”

“Alright, we’re all set! Everyone gather around while the birthday boy breaks open the piñata! I wonder what could be inside!” Fig announced, making her voice heard over the hubbub with Prestidigitation.

“Daughter, what is this peen-yaya?” Gilear heard Telemaine ask as everyone watched Gilear become blindfolded and spun around.

“It’s a mortal tradition of stuffing a cardboard… thing… with candy and hitting it with a stick so the candy falls out. This one appears to be a horse of some kind.”

“That sounds quaint. I look forward to seeing this banana.”

Gilear was quite dizzy by this point, Fig being over-enthusiastic with the spinning, but she pointed him in a direction and told him to swing. He gripped the stick and swung. 

Thwuck! The hit landed true! Bolstered by not harming anyone (including himself) he took another swing, but Gorgug raised the piñata, causing Gilear to miss and everyone to chuckle.

“Last chance!” shouted Fig. “Go get ‘em, Gilear!” He raised the stick and swung once more.

Crack! Gilear’s blood ran cold – that didn’t sound like a good hit. He removed the blindfold and saw only a large gash in the side of the donkey – he had hit it!

“Oh, thank goodness,” he muttered to himself, and passed the blindfold and stick back to Fig.

“Okay, who’s next? How about we go by whose birthday is next?”

“Oh! I think that’s me!” called out Ragh, raising his hand. “My birthday’s in two weeks.”

“Awesome. You’re up, then.” Fig tossed him the blindfold and then handed him the stick once he had it on. Flashbacks of gorilla monsters punching him in the head danced before his eyes, and Gilear ducked under a table as Fig spun Ragh around. Ragh stepped forward and swung the stick violently, knocking off a foot from the donkey as Gorgug moved the piñata out of the way just in time. 

Vwoosh! Vwoosh! Twice more Ragh swung the stick, slicing through the air with tremendous force.

“Geez, Ragh,” Fig scolded, taking the blindfold and stick back. “Not so rough, you coulda killed someone!” 

“Sorry. I just feel like a kid again when I see those bright colors!” he said. “Who’s next?” he called out as he headed back into the crowd.

“Why, Grandpapá, isn’t your birthday next month?” asked Fabian. “I do believe that makes you next!”

“Long have my ancestors abhorred violence, but for the sake of celebration, I shall attempt it today,” said Telemaine, striding forward.

“For someone who says he’s avoiding violence, he sure looks happy to try,” Kristen whispered to Adaine, who nodded in agreement.

With Ragh no longer holding the stick, Gilear extricated himself from beneath the table and wandered over to the catering table which had cold cuts, cheese, and crackers set out. He began to arrange himself a plate as Fig set up her adoptive grandfather for the piñata. Gilear was lost in his own little world as he piled his plate high with different cheeses and crackers, which is why he didn’t hear a word of Fig announcing that the next person would be swinging. With his plate full, Gilear turned around, watching the tower of cheese to make sure it didn’t fall as he searched for a table to sit at. The music from the club thumped as Gilear crossed the floor, blocking out any other sounds of the party. He watched as the tower wobbled, and he stopped moving, just in time to avoid being hit by Telemaine’s errant swing. At that point, Gilear began to register shouting over the music and turned and looked over his shoulder to see Fig motioning for him to come back towards her. He abruptly turned around, just missing Telemaine’s second swing, and headed towards the shouting people. Fig grabbed his arm and yanked him out of the way as Telemaine took a third swing, which somehow managed to collide with the piñata.

Whack! All the contact juggling with the massive ball had certainly paid off, because as the swing connected, the stick and piñata exploded in a furious shower of splinters, paper, and tubes of yogurt. No one moved to grab the prizes.

“Gilear! Are you alright!?” shouted Fig above the din of the club.

“Yes, look, the cheese tower didn’t even fall!” he exclaimed happily as he took a seat. Fig heaved a sigh of relief and walked over to the floor where she scooped up the yogurt tubes and deposited them on the table in front of Gilear.

“What, all for me?” he asked.

“Yep!” she said with a grin. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you, daughter,” he said, and Fig leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. Gilear grabbed a yogurt tube (mmm, triple berry!) and ripped it open, enjoying it with his cheese and crackers.

After the remnants of the piñata were cleaned up and people had a chance to mingle and enjoy to food, Gilear felt the need to relieve himself and wandered out into the main club floor, looking for the bathrooms. He quickly became lost and began going in circles, weaving among the people raving on the floor, when suddenly a spotlight shone down on him.

“I’ve been watching from up here at the DJ booth and this old dude’s got the best dance moves out of all of you!” announced the DJ. “Come on up and claim your prize!” Blinded by the light, Gilear picked his way through the crowd of cheering people and was directed onto the stage that held the booth, where he was given a crown and a bag of gold (which he found out later contained fifty pieces). He was then thrust back into the crowd to fend for himself, and fend he did, for he managed to find the bathrooms five minutes later. 

By the time he returned to the back room and his private party, he was covered in streamers and had acquired a pair of glasses made from glow rings.

“Whoa, Gilear, where have you been?” asked Jawbone upon seeing him. “You hiding the best part of the party from the rest of us?”

“I just came back from the bathroom,” he replied meekly, and he sat back down, feeling very tired.

“Must be one hell of a party in the bathroom,” said Jawbone.

As Gilear got comfortable in his seat, Fig came by with a dish filled with something gloopy inside topped with candles.

“And here’s your cake!” she announced. “A tres yogurts cake made up by Ayda and myself!” As she bent over and lit the candles, everybody began to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him, and as the final note hung in the air, Gilear leaned over and blew out the candles. Unfortunately as he did so, his comb-over flopped down, catching the flames of the candles.

“Gilear! Oh no!” shouted Sandra Lynn, who caught sight of the fire first. Gilear looked up mournfully at the last vestiges of his pride and tried to pat it out, but the flames refused to extinguish. Suddenly, there was a flick of gold and Fabian danced over, dropping his sheet onto Gilear’s head and then he vigorously rubbed, smothering the fire. The room held its breath as Fabian removed the sheet, and then everybody gasped.

“Gilear! Your hair!” shouted someone. Wordlessly, Adaine fished a small hand mirror out of her jacket and passed it over to him. Swallowing audibly, Gilear braced himself for the worst, but when he saw his reflection he was shocked; his comb-over was gone, but the bald spot it had been covering was sprouting new hairs!

“Why my darling Gil-Gil,” purred Hallariel as she prowled over to him. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

“N-no, this is new,” he stammered. As Hallariel fawned over Gilear, running her hands through the fresh sprouts of hair, Fabian puzzled over his sheet, wondering where the new hair could have come from, and checking for any singed spots on the cloth.

“Well!” Fig said a bit manically, trying to bring the mood back to something less crazy after the mishap. “I’ll serve up the cake and everyone can dig in!”

She doled out the cake and yogurt mixture, giving Gilear a large helping before offering some to the other partygoers. There weren’t many takers. 

“Why daughter, this is delightful,” he told Fig, smiling between bites. 

“Oh, good. I’m glad your cake came out right,” she said with a sigh. “It was really touch-and-go for a while there, Ayda and I were just winging it and-”

Fig was cut off by the sound of choking coming from the next table over. Both she and Gilear scrambled to their feet and saw Telemaine turning blue, his hands to his throat. Panic gripped the party, with most people unsure what to do. Sandra Lynn was trying her best to push her way through the press of people to reach him, but Gilear was there first, standing behind his father in-law and wrapping his hands around his stomach. He thrust his fist up hard, and a sopping piece of yogurt-covered cake flopped out of the high elf’s mouth and landed with a plap on the floor at his feet.

It wasn’t until Telemaine took a raspy breath did everyone begin cheering and slapping Gilear on the back, congratulating him on the job well done. Gilear, however, felt exhausted; he was ready to go home and sleep for a week.

But the day wasn’t done, and he was ushered over to the gift table to open his presents. Ah, yes, the pile of cards that undoubtedly contained well wishes but nothing else. Well, Gilear didn’t need much, but after so many IOU gifts in the past, he was wary of opening anything. But there was a crowd waiting eagerly, and so he slipped a finger beneath the flap of one card and tore it open. A cheery card wished him many more years of health and happiness, and inside, there was – of course – a slip of paper.

“Ah,” he said, doing his best to not sound disappointed. “A… voucher for one year of the Yogurt of the Month Club…?” he read off with no lack of surprise in his voice.

“Oh, my…” He checked the card’s signature. “Gorthalax, that’s so wonderful, thank you.”

“Well, I knew if there was one thing you’d like, it’s yogurt,” chuckled the pit fiend.

Having received an actual gift for once, Gilear felt better, and pulled up the next card. He recognized the loopy handwriting as Kristen’s. Once more, the card was brightly-colored and decorated with balloons and a cartoon alligator making some dumb pun, and inside was another slip of paper. “Another voucher, this one for the International Yogurt of the Month Club? My goodness, thank you, Kristen! This sounds adventurous!”

Kristen grinned, but at this point some faces fell and the murmurs began.

“Wait, did you-?”

“Well, I figured that he’d like it-”

“I just thought it suited him…”

“I couldn’t think of anything else…”

“I saw an ad and thought ‘this is exactly what he’d like…’”

Fig’s voice cut through the quiet commotion.

“Hold on, hold on, did everybody give him a voucher for some sort of Yogurt of the Month Club?”

Sandra Lynn held up her hand. “Exotic flavors.”

“Fallinese yogurt.”

“I got the kind with mix-ins.”

“Low-fat, ‘cause he’s got that paunch,” said Fabian. “What, he does!”

“High-protein organic ‘cause you gotta watch your figure, Dad.”

Gilear grinned. “Everybody, this is wonderful. Thank you so much. You’ve made this old man happy.”

“Awwwww,” everybody chorused, and Hallariel stepped up and kissed him on the cheek. 

Fig watched with a warm smile and misty eyes. “This is beautiful,” she told Kristen, who was leaning against her and smiling as well. “I wish Riz was with us to see this.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kristen responded glumly. “He really loved Gilear.”

Ayda looked over and saw the two getting choked up.

“You are crying,” she remarked. 

“Yeah,” Fig said, her voice cracking. “We were talking about how Riz would have loved this.”

“Oh yes…” said Ayda. “It is a shame that he was unable to break his deep cover with the Council of Chosen to be here tonight. He would have laughed at Gilear trying to hit the piñata.”

The two women nodded, and then they all turned to watch Gilear open another card.

After a second serving of yogurt cake and more mingling with his friends and family, the party finally died down and people began to go their separate ways. Wishing he could go back to the comfort of his home but not wanting to be a terrible star of the party, Gilear hung about as people began to leave, thanking everyone for coming and for their gift. At last it was just the Seacaster household and Fig and Ayda left. Fig ran up and hugged Gilear.

“I hope you had a good time, Dad,” she said.

“I did, Figueroth. It was quite memorable and the cake was delicious.”

She grinned and kissed him on the cheek. “Good. Now, off you go, Ayda and I will finish packing up! I love you!”

“Thank you, my daughter.” He gave her a warm smile. “I love you, too.” He let himself be dragged by Hallariel to the limousine and he climbed in alongside his wife, daughter, father in-law, and Fabian. The car took off and drove silently back to Seacaster Manor. As everybody exited the car, there was a click-clink and Gilear felt something shift beneath his shirt. The amulet slid out from beneath his polo and fell to the floor of the limo.

“What is that ugly thing?” asked Hallariel, bending over to examine it with a look on her face as if the amulet were made from dead bugs.

“It was a present that arrived for me this morning when I woke up,” he said. “It was supposed to bring me good luck.”

“Must be some piece of trash gift if it didn’t last the whole year,” said Fabian turning up his nose at it and heading into the mansion.

“Indeed. Have Cathilda toss it,” ordered Hallariel, following behind her son with her daughter and father in tow, leaving Gilear the last to exit the limo. He watched them walk into the manor and then scooped up the amulet pieces and pocketed them.

Later that night, before slipping into his pajamas and brushing his teeth but while the others were busy with their nightly skin-care routines, Gilear walked up to the attic and pulled out a small wooden chest which contained his treasured items; a lock of hair from Fig’s first haircut, Gelynell’s first lost tooth, various drawings from his daughters and a few various other trinkets from momentous occasions in his life. He dug the amulet pieces out of his pocket and smiled down at them. It may have taken a while, but he finally got a precious gift from his stepson, too. He tucked it inside the chest and closed the lid. It had been a wonderful one hundred years, and he looked forward to the next one hundred as well.