“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Ben said in horror under his breath. He was dressed in the tuxedo they had picked out together. He stood at the alter, and the preist she had picked stood next to him. All his guests had arrived, and none of hers had, but otherwise the ceremony had gone flawlessly so far.
The music had begun to play, and Bernadette, his loevly fiance, appeared at the end of the red carpet. She was not wearing the lovely dress that she had insisted on, and they had painfully paid for together. Instead she wore a black shapeless dress. She had what appeared to be gothic style makeup, to the extreme. She glared at the whole room, at life, but her eyes peirced only his as she walked forward. All of this could have been tolerable, for Ben loved Bernadette so much and if this made her happy then he would have agreed.
The alarming thing, if there was one thing that could be pointed to, she was not carrying a bouquet. Ben knew how much had been spent on flowers. He was not a rich man, but had indulged every wish for this occasion. It echoed in his brain, ‘she isn’t carrying the flowers‘. In a very aggressive manor, she carried a rusty ax.
At least Ben hoped it was rust.