The Groom-To-Be Stood
— who the hell are you praying to?- red, very curly, chin length
- STOP ASKING QUESTIONS, WIG-HATER!
- thigh-high boots
-
pressing it into his palm and reminding him
Tune in next time part 538 Click Here for Earlier Installments
The groom-to-be stood in the damp grass several yards away, and at first I didn’t recognize him. But then he spoke, his nasal, sneering tone unmistakable as he hectored a kneeling attendant. “None of this looks right! Do it again — who the hell are you praying to? the god of non-suckitude? — on your feet and get to work!” That guy is such a dick.
I hadn’t immediately realized it was Viscount Arlo because of the lustrous hair, red, very curly, chin length, that covered his head. The attendant had yet to arise, stammering beseechingly for details about the problems. “STOP ASKING QUESTIONS, WIG-HATER!” Arlo bellowed, and the man scrambled away.
“That’s mine!” Tessa hissed, pointing to the wig.
“And those are mine!” Henry aimed an accusing finger at the thigh-high boots hugging Arlo’s legs.
“Shush!” I hissed at both of them.
“It’s okay,” Tessa said with a grin. “I got this.” She cleared her throat and strode toward the viscount. “How about a little bad luck, you dick.”
Arlo whirled her way, gasping. The red wig spun an extra quarter-revolution to obscure his face. “Why aren’t you dressed!” he screamed through the curls.
“I’ve had a reboot,” Tessa yelled back, “and now so! Will! YOU!” She lunged for his feet, hauling them aloft and dumping Arlo on his ass as she stood back up.
“Looks like the show’s going to be canceled,” I muttered to Henry. “But on the other hand, maybe you’ll get your boots back. You should call the rest of your crew and give them a heads up.” I took a quarter out of my pocket, pressing it into his palm and reminding him that there was a pay phone in the hedge maze.
bonus points for using them in order