Miranda Pulls A Nixon At Courtney’s Wedding

The reception is held on the creaking floors in the back of a big old church. The music is piped in but pleasant. The food is good and plentiful in steel gussied up like silver. Miranda is currently making a sloppy haymaker at the groom, her brother in law. The champagne bottle gets close but does not christen him, not yet.

Tomorrow, there will be problems to address regarding bail and the general state of the family. It may also come up that I was the only brother not helping subdue his sister. That is because I know better, it only took me a few dozen rolling elbows in my teens to figure out. Plus, four on one is only slightly better odds than three on one. I record the incident on my phone, for posterity of course.

She is now holding the wine bottle at her side, bottom towards the sky, choking the neck one hand over the other. She would make a samurai proud to be her teacher, if the samurai should want a skinny godless ginger bitch as a pupil. She swings more tentatively but still painfully. My new brother Tyrone has learned my painful lesson. He is lucky he is so tall, it only hit his shoulder.

Courtney, she was always a bit sensitive, but now she’s just plain old weeping. Her wedding is already fading into an obscure point in family history. Everyone will remember the night we learned that Miranda takes dilantin. She was actually resistant to the bourbon but we coaxed her open with the soothing call of hens. That was the butterfly flap that started this whole ordeal, and we three brothers are the ones that moved the wings.

The champagne bottle is broken on the floor and Billy, our youngest brother, is being swung through a table in a perfect live action retelling of the famous ’99 Tekken 3 match of Courtney v. Rick. Billy is clutching his hand, bloodied with the shards of a tumbler. This where I get mad and enter the fray. This is where she regards me for all of two seconds and takes her left into my sugar glass jaw.

Me and Billy are down, Tyrone has retreated with new wife in tow, Rick and George are left and they’re being worn down quick. The battle has become halfway lethargic and if anyone had any sense, we’d all just go to sleep. The thin blue line enters and the three combatants are off to spend the night Downtown where the jail is.

Over the next week, the awkward apologies start rolling in. Our inboxes are filling, our voicemails are lengthening but we’re curiously facebook silent. The rest of the family is courting Courtney, including a sheepish Miranda. After two months, the newly wed relents and things turn back to somewhere near normal.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Carson Margedant
    Feb 06, 2011 @ 15:00:28

    A Nixon is of course when one mixes alcohol with dilantin.

    Reply

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