Ginger Wedding

Eve: One bite isn't going to hurt.

It lingers in the mind, this sensation of movement, along grassy patches of road. The air is the worst, polluted with wedding smells. It's the lovers rice that's being missed. If it had not been missed, a true tragedy would then have occurred.

A black polished shoe dwindles in my presence like a lingering savage. It kicks, too, in a most uncaring way. I heard them, though, the father of the bride as he danced with his almost too-young wife. He had the ageless look of fifty and wore a funny crooked hat. She was the life of a yet-to-be-written drool of a novel. She didn't dance; her feet were moved by the other, the kicker.

"A nice young man, Harold," said she.

"Oh, aye," said Harold, "Except I don't like the fellow, much too, what's the word.... Aggressive."

"Give him a moment's peace, Harold."

She was a drag with the English language. If it weren't for my inability to move, I would have kicked her on the shin and happily escaped her dreadful presence.

"Now, now, I didn't say he wasn't a likable chap, just I don't like him. Plenty of things to not like, your dancing, for example."

I admired the old man for that, except I knew he was getting la-oops, the accident occurred.

The grassy patches return but now there's white linen all over the place. Ugh, it's like the remake of the worst Sears catalog in the world. This is white that turns to beige that turns to ugly. An ugly with a talent for it, that's how bad this decoration, an apology to the word decoration, is and, if there's a God, was.

Let you meet the best man and his date, though and I can hear what they're saying, too. It just so happens that clumsy foot put me near the tarp where all the guests were setting up for the pre-wedding wait.

The Junes had gone all out. They even corrected the invitation cards, which had all been written as Jones because no sane man would have a last name like June. I was right. It wasn't the last name I was right about, though.

Champaign buckets had been ordered pre-filled with ice, of course, with their own little ice boy. Many waiters, men and women, were at the ready to serve in their fancy coat and tie and red vests. Had I the ability to puke, I would have done so at least six times by now.

The one the groom calls best man is a young fellow with most his hair still in tact, a rarity in men near the forties. His woman friend, an attractive one in a blue dress with matching earrings, says to him, "We should move, it's about to start."

"So what do you think of Jim?"

"Oh, he's a swell guy but he reminded me a little bit of my step-brother, Henry."

"The wife-beater?"

"Yes."

"A little quick on the response rate there aren't you?"

A kid picked me up, can you believe it? It was just getting to the good part. There might have even been some slapping. For sure, I was a goner. I was quite certain, until of course, I became the victim of a caring mother. I was dumped in a dumpster that was next to the wife and her sister, who were also having their own discussion. The dumpster was of course just close to their bench. I could hear them well enough, even at the bottom of the bag. "I'm telling you, this is a big mistake. What about Andy?"

The wife sighs and looks at her sister with disgust, yet she doesn't comment. Her face betrays her; she has some kind of feeling for this Andy character. I play a part in this now because my interest is peeked. Was this Jim fellow a wife beater? If so, would he make her happy and if not, wasn't it still true that the wife should follow her heart? In any case, Jim hadn't been getting a good wrap from anyone.

"Won't you listen to reason?"

I was with the sister on the reason bits. However, at that time, I was hearing a strange ruffling sound. It was sinister and full of bad intent. Suddenly, the thrash can tipped to one side and I was free, only to be the victim of some fucking dog. It thought I was a ball. Then, I thought I was dead for sure. It was at that moment that I realized, I had to do something before I went, before it was all over.

I was lucky, a swinging door picked me off, almost cutting me but then I was inside some weird hall, like a dining area. I was rolling, which means movement. In one corner was a table on top of which was a four or five-layer cake with a groom and a bride on top. It was a strawberry-banana delicacy that stunk up the place. Even if the reception had served some type of overly-well-done chicken, it still wouldn't beat the smell of sugars on top of more sugars. It was a sickening thing to see. Then a server kicked me. His shoes felt like a leather bag. I was wedged into a door and I saw something rather disturbing.

On top of a table was a woman, her legs spread not so wide. In between those legs was a man, his pants half-way down. And in the room permeated a stench fouler than the cake, along with noises of intense suffering, though I seriously doubt that was the case.

Here he was, the groom, the hero of the story, as it were. It was time for me to reflect. This was a bad situation. Was it my fault that Andy was a clueless fool that should be chasing after his woman instead of crying for her? Yet, wait, the groom was cheating and he was a potential wife-beater.

No, no. When I was home, they told me not to get involved.

I was supposed to leave earlier, though.

Plucked.

It was Nature that said it and you listened to her, especially me. Where did I go when it was over, right, religion, everything that everyone else gets taught and if you were there long enough, you learned it all. I was one that, perhaps, learned too much.

Here's a thing, I could do, though. I could talk to Fate and when someone says her name she comes and listens but this time she talked.

"Perhaps," Fate said.

"I did not want to change them."

Fate smiled, "It's over, little friend."

A foot slammed the door shut. I flew out of the hallway, across the grass and ugly linen and through a red carpet. When I saw the priest, I was still rolling. A chair moved. It tipped me to one side. No one noticed.

When the ceremony began, you could hear Jim's shoes tapping on the carpet.

The ring boy passed me by.

A small child, a girl, kicked me for fun, into the hall.

It might have been part of Fate.

Jim stepped on me. I was half dead.

Don't worry. It didn't hurt. I half-rolled, and broke his heel. I wasn't supposed to roll but I put the effort in it. Jim fell back first.

The bride didn't show up.

It's a curious thing.

Fate, then said, "Ah, an apple, I love apples!"

And the b___h ate me!