Turtle Tells
Tradition sucks, ESPECIALLY when it comes to weddings. I mean, as much as it doesn't make sense to me, I can live with throwing money at a jeweler's face for a decent ring. I can appreciate that the actual wedding is more of the wife's thing than the groom's; it makes me smile knowing that she's happy. However, there has always been one thing that has never failed to put me in a grumpy mood.
"I'm HER husband! Why can't I see her?"I shout at Comic. As best friend of the bride and mutual friend of the groom, she was hailed as "maid-of honor" almost immediately after I proposed two years ago. Her new temporary title came with a strange surge of power the past several months. When Gabrielle wasn't around to approve (or shoot down) any and all plans somehow involving our wedding, Comic was there to do it for her. She was the sternest, by far, around me, with the excuse that she "had direct orders to keep (me) barred by tradition."
"She's putting the dress on. If you want to see her in it, you're going to have to wait until the ceremony like everyone else."
"Almost everyone has ALREADY seen her dress! Hell, YOU were there when she bought it!"
"You don't get to see it until she comes out. Its traditional." See? I told you.
I opened my mouth, about to protest in an extremely sarcastic manner, until I realized that Comic was probably enjoying the chance to piss me off without getting in trouble. So instead of making an extremely rude comment on how not pretty she was, I made a break past her down the hall.
Now, I know I'm not the most athletic guy in my circle of friends, but I'm still five foot nine weighing in at 243 pounds versus Comic's...what was it? Five something? So imagine the surprise on my face when she grabbed my wrist faster than Sonic the Hedgehog and flipped me on my back before I even realized what had happened.
Something long and painful stabbed my back and pinned me to the ground, "Listen, Comic, I know that you're completely drunk off of pow- I mean, trying to do your job to make sure everything goes right, but are the stilettos stabbing my organs really necessary?"
"You aren't. Going. To. See. Her. At least for another two hours-"
"TWO HOURS! YOU EXPECT ME TO WAIT TWO HOURS TO SEE HER??" You know, in retrospect, I was acting pretty irrationally then. However, I must have been doing something really amazing, because I suddenly felt something come over me. I felt the rage and annoyance (and pain - Stilettos fucking hurt) overpower my mind and surge through my body like electricity. Everything in my field of vision took on a bright orange hue. This new-found power allowed my arm to bend in a way that was impossible for regular human beings, grabbing Comic by the ankle and throwing her off of me.
Had I not been completely engulfed in a blind-fury at that moment, I would've been impressed that she landed on her feet after a throw that hurled her a good ten feet across the hall. There was a daring confidence in her eyes, a kind of determination that would drive even the most stubborn of misogynists to a fetal position. "Do your worst. You aren't getting past me."
Again, if I were half-conscious at the time, I would have been amazed that I was able to move so quickly in a tuxedo. Comic and I traded flurries upon flurries of punches and kicks to the other, neither one of of us actually landing any direct hits. Imagine a scene from Dragon Ball Z where the two fighters are teleporting around the area trying to hit each other, except instead of dumb monkey aliens fighting it was two loser nerds. Two loser nerds: one in a hot as hell tuxedo and another running and dodging around the room in stilettos and a ballroom dress. Again, I don't know about you, but I think that's pretty damn impressive.
Luckily for me, one of the guests in the lobby down stairs brought their Yorkie (despite the building not allowing pets inside- that's an EXTRA $400 WE CAN BE FINED, MARINA),which distracted Comic long enough for me to get in a low sweep and knock her down to the floor. She struggled to get back to her feet,grabbing anything near her to get leverage and help her stand back up, but was unable to due to crazy size of her stiletto heels.
I watched her struggle as I calmed down from my blind rage, remembering why I was up here in the first place. There it was, the door that held my dearly beloved held within. My heart jumped out my throat and ran laps around the building as I reached out for the door knob.
Twist. Creeeeaaaaaaakkkk
And there she was; my goddess in all of her beauty. She stared at me in shock from behind her thin white veil. The sunlight from the windows hit her mermaid wedding dress in just the right angle that she appeared give off a faint glow.
I just stood there staring at her for what could possibly have been the duration of the afternoon. In fact, the only reason I snapped out of my trance in the first place was because I realized that Gaby and her bridesmaids were still staring in shock to see me. Shit shit shit shit shit I need to say something-
"So...you still like me, right?"
