Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Romantic Short Story: No Wedding Night

A wedding, a reception brawl, and the bride and groom’s wedding night will be in jail. Or will it?
_866 words Romance
No Wedding Night
by
Neale Sourna
_Las Vegas NV USA; Today
Fisticuffs, as my Great Gran would say, broke out at our wedding; just before our vows were done. It was my bride’s brother against my best brother slash best man; then her sister slash matron of honor against my favorite girl cousin teamed with that cuz’s favorite BFF.
A groomsman, with valiant stupidity, waded into the fray—with the unladylike womenfolk—and got promptly damaged, slightly.
The police were called, by someone. No one’s admitting it. The cops settled everyone down. Thankfully, no one went to jail, or the hospital.
All right the hard part.
She cried, out of frustration, out of disappointment, out of embarrassment, while locked in her vestry dressing room, and she finally let me in, and finally let me talk her back to the altar to say our I do’s.
And we did, but the bad vibes hung there, I guess, contaminating everything, festering beneath our façade of happiness.
My family doesn’t like her family and ditto with her family’s feelings toward mine.
It seems that our making them both one family wasn’t working out. Isn’t this why old countries used to marry off their royal kids to their rival warring kingdom, in order to make blood peace? I must be the only one who loved history class. Of course, blood peaces resumed many a blood war.
We went to the reception, we had a peaceful meal and sweet toasts and teary eyed toasts and funny toasts, and we had our first dance, but the open bar’s prepaid liquor was fueling fires in those still burning with discontent. Did I mention countries at war...? [more]

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