“It’s Ceremony Time!”
sibilance stretching the second word- can’t spell his own name
- part of a movement referred to as “goth”
- engraved THIS MAN IS A PRICK
- label was in his handwriting
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“It’s ceremony time!” announced the officiant, an odd sibilance stretching the second word.
“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to marry a man who can’t spell his own name,” the Tessabot raged.
The officiant looked at me askance. He wore as much eyeliner as those teens who are part of a movement referred to as “goth” by the press.
“I can spell my name,” I assured. “My betrothed is merely experiencing cold feet.”
“Cold feet!” Tessa barked. “Cold feet! I should have known what a dick you are the first time I saw the medallion you always wear upon which is engraved THIS MAN IS A PRICK.”
As I suspected, her short circuit had her confusing me with the real Viscount Arlo.
She whispered conspiratorially to the officiant, “To make it all just too perfect, the label was in his handwriting.” She shook her head. “His OWN handwriting!”
bonus points for using them in order