I stood alone in the backroom of the small, country church. I had a pounding headache and was drenched with sweat so I raised a shaky hand to wipe it from my face. The tuxedo itched and seemed tighter than when I had been fitted for it a few days ago. No doubt the pizza, beef lo mein, KFC’s breakfast bowl, and three bottles of bourbon at the bachelor party the night before had added on a few pounds and given me a wicked case of the mud butt. This whole wedding thing had filled me with a deep sense of dread.
“Dude, what’s the hold up? They’re waiting on you,” My best man said as he walked in. Through the open door I could hear the giddy laughter and cheerful voices of the wedding guests.
“I don’t know, man. I’m really nervous,” I said, beginning to hyperventilate.
“Are you okay? You’re getting married in five minutes.”
“No! I don’t want to! She sucks!” I shouted as I started pulling at my bow tie.
“Why don’t you just calm down for a second,” he said as he tried to put a hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t touch me butt-wipe!”
Without thinking I judo chopped my best man in the neck just like in every martial arts movie I’ve ever seen. Maybe not exactly the same. Instead of being knocked out he just stumbled backwards, coughing and holding his throat.
“Oh my God! What’s your problem?” He managed to say in between coughs.
I judo chopped him again and again until he stopped moving. It was time to make my escape.
Just then my father came in and, not noticing my comatose best man said, “What’s the hold up in here? I gotta watch the game at-“
I judo chopped him too. In the face. He went down like a down sack of sweet Valencia oranges. I stormed out of the room and into the church. The guests stared at me wide-eyed and gasped, whether from the crazed look on my face or the blood all over my hands I’m not sure. Some ushers in the aisle, my fiancée’s brothers, tried to stop me. I charged straight into the group, lashing out with knees and elbows and heard the satisfying crunch of a broken nose or two. I burst through the front door of the church and dashed to the parking lot.
Looking back I could see my ex-future wife chasing after me, screeching at the top of her lungs. Her face had turned red and her neck was going that gross thing that underweight women’s necks do when the veins and tendons show. I can’t overstate how gross that is. It’s very unsettling. Like looking at a dehydrated corpse.
I jumped into my car and started it up, pulling away just in the nick of time before she could wrap her talons around my neck. As I peeled away the tires kicked up mud that splattered all over her wedding dress. The ensuing cry of rage was comparable only to one of those little spitting dinosaurs from Jurassic Park. I cranked up the radio and switched to my favorite station. Wu-Tang Clan’s greatest hits and enjoyed the wind blowing in my hair as I loosened my tie. In the rearview mirror I could see people racing to their cars, some were even chasing me on foot but I was home free!
I hadn’t gotten halfway down the road when the engine started sputtering and I noticed the gas tank was empty.