Everyone sits quietly, restlessly. They all wait for the bride to walk inside and down the aisle. I, of course, am a wig sitting on the man in the third row. The priest begins to talk and everyone dazes of into a stupor until the bride and groom kiss. Their happiness radiates throughout the church. I am not looking forward to the rest of the day, with all the dancing and shaking. Everyone is cheering as they race out, eager to party for the first time as Mr. and Mrs.. They get to the elegantly laid out reception clubhouse, where they plan to “boogie.” Everyone arrives, and in a moment the party has started. Needless to say, there was an open bar, which means drinks will be spilled in me the whole evening. The band starts playing and people really start having fun. Dancing, singing, and catching up with relatives illuminate the room.
Just then everything gets quiet. A ticking noise is heard, but who knows where it was. All I was concerned with was staying on this guy's head. Everyone looks for what seems like hours, but no luck. One person begins to compare their situation to that of Harry Potter in Potter Puppet Pals. Nobody laughs because, “what if there really were a pipe bomb, and Voldemort was just waiting to pop out and sing?!?” Well nobody could find it so they figured it would not be a problem. Then somebody said, “lets have some wedding cake.” It hit everyone; it was in the last place they had looked. It was too late.
Cake exploded everywhere. Countless had been annihilated, and many more were injured. Whether it was icing in the eye or a flower to the chest, the cake explosion had claimed many casualties. People were running around, searching for survivors throughout the destroyed clubhouse. Who would have thought a cake with a bomb in it could do so much damage. Nah, just kidding. Everyone was fine because after all, it was just cake. People decided to salvage the rest of the reception and have some fun. Some people had icing fights. Others played with the wedding cake top. Some people even began to play frisbee with me. UGH!
The group then had a giant cake throwing fight and made a complete mess of their clothes, the clubhouse, and everything else in the clubhouse(including me). The pandemonium gradually turned into a lull of guests satisfied with their childish shenanigans. All of the guests gave up on cleaning. Why couldn't they at least clean up my beautiful locks. I have had icing in them for the last 2 hours and it is really bothering me.
1 comment:
A cake with a bomb in it? Why? I don't get it. You had me until that point. Perhaps your second story can explain the reason behind this.
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