The following is an entry to the May Write Away contest at Scribbit. My thanks to Daisy, at Compost Happens, for the heads up on the contest.
“What do you mean you’re allergic to weddings?” Scot asked best friend, Greg. “You can’t be allergic to weddings! There’s no such thing as a wedding allergy. What’s going on, dude?”
“What do I wear on my feet?” asked Greg.
“Well that’s a stupid question. Relevance?”
Greg looked Scot straight in the eyes while kicking him in the leg. “What do I wear on my feet, moron?”
Scot looked down, still puzzled, at Greg’s bare feet. He thought for a moment. No shoes today. But they were in Greg’s dorm room. Greg never wore shoes in the dorm room. Or socks. What DID Greg wear on his feet? He gave it another moment before remembering that this conversation was not about feet. “Greg, I don’t give a rat’s butt what you wear on your feet. I want you to be my best man and the wedding’s in three months …”
“I know that, dude.”
“… I want you to be my best man. Amanda’s breathing down my neck about getting the wedding party together and getting her names …” Scot took a breath. It felt rehearsed.
“Amanda’s always on you about everything, man.”
“… ANYWAY – will you be my best man? You’re my best friend and I don’t want anyone else standing next to me on the big day.” Exhaling, Scot glared at Greg.
“Dude, what do I wear on my feet already? Answer me that before I say yes or no.” Greg wasn’t backing down on this. Scot nearly turned to leave, angry, frustrated, ready to find a new best friend.
“Greg, I have no idea what you wear on your feet. I’ve only seen you barefoot. How about if I check your closet? Would you like that? Or under your bed?” Scot could feel the sarcasm dripping from his lips. Not the way to talk a friend into something. “I mean, I could probably tell you what moles you have and how many hairs are on your big toes, but I don't remember seeing a single pair of shoes on your … ooohhhhh.” Understanding dawned in Scot’s eyes, shadowed by sadness. Then his voice hardened. “Do you mean to tell me that you won’t be in my wedding? That we’ve been best friends all the way through college and you won’t be in my wedding because of SHOES?!? You’re crazy!”
Still toe to toe with Scot, Greg smiled slowly, waiting for Scot to calm down. It had been clear from the beginning of Scot's relationship with Amanda that Greg didn’t like her, didn’t like the short leash she kept. Counting slowly backward from 20, Greg stared and waited before speaking.
“I am allergic to shoes. Really. Can’t wear ‘em. Why do you think I live in freakin’
“I always thought …”
“Dude, you never asked,” Greg continued. “Is this whole thing set up already? Tell Amanda that you’re getting married at the beach and everyone will be barefoot. Chicks dig that whole barefoot beach wedding thing.”
There it was. The reaction Greg was waiting for. Confusion, then understanding, then excitement, then ... then fear.
“Amanda will never go for that. This is the wedding she’s waited her whole life for. She has it planned to the letter. If I suggest that now, she’ll take my head off.” Scot was actually shaking now.
“Then find a new best man. If she really loves you, she’ll do this for you. It’s your wedding too.” Greg was done. What he wouldn't give to be a fly on Scot's wall tonight. There’d be fireworks for sure.
Scot, looking whipped and frustrated, turned to leave. “Allergic to weddings, huh?” he asked over his shoulder. “I’ll let her know you said that. She told me you’d say no. I’ll get back to ya about the beach. Thanks for being straight up with me.”
Watching Scot go, Greg chuckled to himself, got out his Nike’s and prepared to for his afternoon run.
Pretty good. Is that based on your Hunny?
Funny! I like how Greg got out of that situation!
Heh - I really hate weddings and can totally relate. I wanted to get married by fat elvis in Vegas . . . my mom vetoed that proposal even though it would have been a helluva lot cheaper!
Great story...and I love the ending, but somehow I wanted more. I need to know about the fiance and her reaction...I am so nosey like that!
This, I'm pleased to say, is not based on my Hunny. And I didn't even think to bring a fat Elvis into it, dang it!
The topic for the contest is shoes, and I Googled creative writing exercises and found some starter sentences. One of them was “What do you mean you’re allergic to weddings?” Scot asked ..." How could I pass that up?
Sorry, Harmony. I would have given you a flat ending had I taken it further.
Hey!!!! How did it end? You can't leave me hanging like that!!!
Damn, do you do this for a living? Well, you should if you don't! I loved this. Great writing style and I smiled the whole time...given my mood, that's a huge compliment LOL
I do desperately need to know the ending though....
You are really good. Do you write a lot? Greg's trying to break up this wedding and what a subtle way to do it.
This is funny because when Andrew and I got married I forgot my shoes and he forgot his dark socks for his tux. What a pair we were.
Great piece. I love it when the write-away entries head off in an unexpected direction. Good luck with the contest. (I think I'm sitting this one out, I'm swamped this month and my poor muse is sitting in the corner rocking back and forth and mumbling to herself.)
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