Short stories: Having a bad day
The Wedding Crash
Like many, I had dreamt of my wedding since I was a little girl. When the occasion finally arrived, I was determined to create my perfect day, the most beautiful gown, the tastiest cake, and most gorgeous church. It was to be the ideal wedding, amongst all of our friends and family, that is, except for one or two of my long lost relatives who were always referred to as the “shady ones” by the rest of the family.
Our minister was an elderly woman who, though very sincere and passionate in her calling, was also verbally candid with her thoughts. I grew weary as a glimpse of one of her rambles at my wedding caught my mind, but given that most ceremonies are somewhat scripted, my fears were quickly disregarded. Besides, with the church came the minister presiding in it, and I was willing to compromise.
At rehearsal, the evening before the wedding, our minister, who lived beside of the church, arrived in her ever so sheer nightgown, giving us an image that no one wanted. Standing at the altar with the bridesmaids and groomsmen, she filled the script with humorless jokes and mini sermons before an abrupt halt, at which point she ogled my well-endowed matron of honor while attempting to arrange a date with her son. My strength finally failed me as tears flooded my eyes, fearing her actions during our wedding ceremony. My perfect day was threatened.
My bridesmaids and I spent the next morning getting our updo done and preparing for the exchange of vows while I envisioned the re-enactment of the evening prior. Our guests soon filled the church, and I was ready to marry the man of my dreams. That is when the news arrived that our beloved Officiant was missing. I convinced myself to remain calm as one of our ushers scurried to her house. Upon her arrival, fifteen minutes later, she apologized to our guests with a descriptive explanation of how she was helping her husband use the restroom (luckily, I didn’t hear about it until later).
During the ceremony, I prayed that our minister would stick to the script, as the flower girl lay on the floor, complaining of boredom. My attention was then directed to a young girl, roaming around the altar, snapping pictures. On the verge of a breakdown, I forced my focus on my vows when the minister erupted into a sermon about the process of being damned into the fires of hell. With that went all hope of my perfect wedding.
The insanity soon ended, and we headed to our reception without