
“I think the wedding reception is going well, don’t you agree?” asked the bride, looking over the crowd.
The groom nodded. “If you don’t count the undead who arrived uninvited.”
“They do love a good party.”
He nodded again.
“They don’t get out much, sweetheart.”
“It’s still rude to crash a wedding,” he said.
“I think the guy in the tux has no idea he’s dead.”
“I agree. He’s been wandering around, asking a lot of questions. No one has the heart to tell him he’s not alive. He wants to know where his car is.”
“In a crumpled heap, I imagine. At least that’s what I heard.”
“That explains the leg dragging and the bloody and shredded tux.”
“Sorry your parents ran away screaming.”
“They aren’t used to, you know, dead things,” he said. “They’ll be fine. Eventually. I suppose.”
“Still. I wish they would have stayed.”
“The vampires seem seem to like the punch.”
“It’s O-negative.”
“Ah,” he said, smiling. “That explains it.”
“Are you sorry I didn’t hide my face with make-up?”
“You look beautiful, just the way you are,” he said.”
“You look so handsome,” she whispered, squeezing his hand.
“Do you think we should sneak away?”
“I do,” she said. “The werewolves are starting to change, and while they are perfectly well mannered, most of the time, I think it’s time to leave,” she said, pulling him toward the door.
“It was fun,” he said.
“The perfect wedding day,” she sighed, taking a red rose as a keepsake. “Let’s stop by and see Jim Morrison, on our honeymoon.”
“He’s always good fun.”
“That he is,” she laughed, running toward their Harley. “That he is.”
Photo: Luis Zambrano
Pexels
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Written
on October 29, 2022