writing doodle

Never had he seen anything like it.  In forty years of officiating marriages, civil unions, and legalizing couples who had been shacking up, never had he seen a bride bolt quite so slowly as this one.

Certainly he had seen brides tear down the aisle, tossing their bouquets over their shoulders.

He had seen women crumple at the altar when he groom failed to appear.

This bride, who appeared before him wearing a halter top, flip flops, and a pair of jeans so low rise that  he could see the expiration date on the tamp stamp tattooed in the small of her back, was sauntering, shaking hands, fist bumping, and kissing babies on her way down the aisle and out of the church.

Last night, the rehearsal dinner had gone well.  Everyone had been cordial and worked well together.  The meal had even been catered by a local restaurant that didn't specialize in rubber chicken. The couple appeared to be lovey dovey, odd for them as they weren't overly affectionate.

The groom was the one who was crumpled before the altar in a right state.

Who would have thought a single lottery ticket would have changed the bride's mind quite so profoundly?