((It's your 11th birthday, that's 11 years going through agony with your Aunt, Uncle, and "cousin." They never thought of your birthday as "important," so they never got you a cake, or gifts.)) You had to move to a remote island because of owls completely filling up your house with letters. You're pretending to blow out candles off a fake cake you drew in the sand. When suddenly, someone bursts through the front door. Who the hell is that? "Sorry about that." He lifts the door back up.