So following on from my last post here’s my first story pulled from the depths of my MacBook and ready to be shared.
I wrote it for my monthly Writing Group last year when I was in the midst of wedding planning and LOVING Fleabag on catch up! The inspirations are pretty obvious but it was great fun to write! Please don’t be offended by any religious content – it’s the character talking not me! 🙂
Here Comes The… Shameless Friend
Oh wow. She looks bloody beautiful. Look at her, she’s glowing. Those flowers. Her hair. Oh, she did the ringlets like when we were kids. Are those …red shoes?
Yes there – just peaking out. Oh that is so Andrea. Forever the conservative rebel. Me, I’d wear an all out red dress … or black. Or both — yeah both. And I’d carry a hammer and sickle instead of a bouquet…
Oh look at how he’s looking at her, look!
I’m fucking crying? Happy tears, they’re happy tears. It’s just so … bloody beautiful. They’re so in love. Oh, to have someone look at me like that!
Am I really so bad? Maybe I should ditch the hammer.
Look at his face, look at that loved up face. Oh fuck it. These tears aren’t happy, they’re all mine, lonely-fucking-aching-hole-of-pity tears. Suck it up girl – SUCK IT UP. Today isn’t about you.
Wait is that? Fucking Trevor! Who invited fucking Trevor? Are you kidding me? Why would anyone want lizard boy here. Yep, there goes the tongue. Look out flies everywhere, he’ll have you. Urgh. I swear it forks at the end. Wasn’t complaining when his head was between my legs like, better than my rampant rabbit that one. Urgh, major boinker’s remorse over here…
Oh shit. Am I openly grimacing? Must be openly grimacing, I’m getting serious stink eye from Mother of the Bride. Fix the grin, Grace, FIX THE GRIN.
Oh here we go… yes we’re gathered here today to… blah blah blah. I don’t think I’d get married in a church. Couldn’t cope with all this ponce. I mean some of it is sweet of course, but most of it is so generic. Some old, decrepit, judgemental bloke in a frock regaling us all with God’s mighty plan – actually how old is he? He looks…hmmm, where are my glasses? They have to be in here somewhere. Shit, need to be quiet. Why did I put so many crisps in my bag? Ooo, could I sneak a bit of that gin now? Where the fuck are they? Oh shit did I leave them at—
‘Shh!’ Some distant Aunt is pissed with me.
‘Sorry, just … my glasses. I really need—’
Fuck it, I’ll have to squint. Oh wait are they? Yep on my head, on my friggin’ head.
Oh, he is bloody lush, what a crime against feminism that, that fine piece of ass is in God’s pocket. I want him in my pocket, or even better in my —
Who’s phone is ringing? Seriously, the shame! At least it’s not at that bit where—
‘…if anyone knows why these two persons may not be joined in holy matrimony.’
Oh shit. It is! Ha! Well are you going to answer it you friggin’ meff? Seriously no one is moving for it. Wait… Where’s my coat? Oh Christ, it’s my bloody phone. Jesus! And I’m blaspheming under God’s roof now too. What was I thinking hanging it up back there! Major fuck up. I am a major fuck up. I better just answer it. Should I crawl? Oh thank God it’s stopped. Seriously, nice one God, I owe you one.
‘Well we’ll assume that wasn’t someone calling to object’
Oh he’s funny too. A hot, funny priest. Did I just guffaw? Oh he’s looking right at me, RIGHT AT ME. Don’t do it Grace… don’t. Too late, overtly flirtatious gestures have occurred. Andrea’s laughing at me, Mother of the Bride is stony faced. Several other amused or confused faces are looking in my direction. Lizard boy isn’t the only one who can’t control his tongue. I clamp mine back within my moistened lips and smile apologetically. Well that’s my introductions done.