The living room was a disaster. Logan stood in the doorway, yawning. Assessing the damage. It was even worse in the daylight.
The carpet was littered with torn wrapping paper and crushed potato chips. His ashtray was filled to the brim with something that looked suspiciously like Kool-Aid, and his chair. . .was that cake?
He took a step, and his bare foot stuck to the carpet. He looked down. Chocolate ice cream.
Behind him, a little voice piped, "Gawdammint!"
Wincing, he turned to find Marie, birthday girl on her hip. She looked amused.
"You have frosting in your ear."