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7 December 2009
| "The I Do's of
March"
by M. Mitchell Marmel & E.O. Costello © 2007-9 by M. Mitchell Marmel and E.O. Costello Willow Fawnsworthy, Reggie Buckhorn, Franklin Stagg, Orrin Brush, Leslie duCleds, Kara Karoksdottir, Charles Foster Crane, Inocenta du Cleds (nee de Ciervos), Carlos de Ciervos, Senora de Ciervos © Eric Costello Rosie Baumgartner, © M. Mitchell Marmel Marryin’ Sam and Lulubelle Mae Brunswick © E.O Costello and M. Mitchell Marmel Brenda and Covina Johnson © Walter D. Reimer Part Twelve
Reggie: The day had arrived. I stood in front of the mirror and studied myself critically. The tailors had done a magnificent job; the clawhammer coat of the morning suit fitted just so. I finished making a last adjustment to my tie when Lodge walked into the room, dressed identically to me. “’The Ides of March have come,’” I quoted cheerfully. Lodge nodded. “’Aye, Caesar, but not gone.’ I take it, Sir, that there is a hope nothing will happen today to spoil the happy occasion.” “Bosh, Lodge. Why, there wasn’t even a bachelor party worth its name – both the happy groom and his best man are sober as judges.” “Hardly a turn of phrase to endear you to Magistrate Spaniel, Sir.” “I said sober as a judge, Lodge. There are limits to the turn of phrase.” ***
Les: I need a drink. Badly. Hell, I’d settle for Nootnops Blue at this point. You’ve heard the phrase ‘cat on a hot tin roof?’ Well, this doggy’s got that kitty beat by a country mile. But the promise has been made, and must be kept. Damn, did Uncle Pete feel this nervous? ***
Willow: The dress fitted and looked beautiful, a nice creamy beige that would match well with the bridesmaids’ varied species (cheetah, whitetail doe, vixen) while not drawing attention away from the bride. “Two more months,” I said aloud. (Amen.) Nervous, Grace? (It’s not *our* wedding, Twin.) ***
Don Carlos: I make the regard of my watch once more. Pouf! Where are Consuela my mate, and my Inocenta? They should have finished with the making ready. The hired carriage, he waits below. Finally, the door, it open. Ah! Who make with the fog of pink? ***
Rosie:
Luchow’s was closed for the day for a ‘private party,’ much to the dismay of the government types. Meh. Let ‘em go to the food carts. Heh, heh, heh. I made a few last-second adjustments to my headfur. My dress was already perfect, and its cream color set off my spots perfectly. “All set to go, Rosie?” “Ready as I can get, Vicky. Please keep B’onss and K’nutt out of the food until we get back.” Vicky chuckled. “If they try – “ She reached up one of her blouse’s long sleeves and, faster than I could react (!), a long leaf of steel stood out of the wood by one of the tables. I set off for the church. All was in good paws. ***
Leslie: “Reggie?” “Yes, Les?” “Promise me something.” “Name it, old bean.” “If I start to fall over, keep me standing upright.” My best man chuckled, the sound a bit loud in the quiet sanctuary of Saint Anthony’s. “No problem, Les. After all, I’d expect you to do the same for me in two months.” Just then Father Merino cleared his throat and we all straightened up at our places as the hired string quartet struck the familiar opening chords from Wagner’s Lohengrin. next |