Everything Happens to Me

Not a Star, Not a Rose: Episode 8

- What are those cans I see over there? It looks like the Famous Amos guy.

- It is — he does a diet chocolate soda now.

- Ooh, give me one!

- Sure.

- Thanks. So . . . not sure I really want to ask this but . . .

- I know. I wasn’t here last Saturday.

- Another . . . fulfilling weekend?

- Uh, that might’ve been a one-time thing.

- Oh. Hey, good soda!

- Good to know. I can recommend it to other weirdo teetotaling customers. Seems to have perked you right up.

- So where were you then? Last weekend.

- Aw, did you sit here all lonely?

- No, I got a hell of a lot of writing done.

- I was at a wedding. In a wedding, actually. At least for the first half.

- This sounds intriguing.

- Yeah. I . . . caused a scene.

- Really? What’d you do, speak now at the forever hold your peace bit?

- By crazy coincidence, Kalmia, that is exactly when it happened.

- What happened?

- I keeled over backward down the altar steps.

- You fainted?

- Y’know, I don’t think I actually lost consciousness. It’s more like I got dizzy and collapsed. Good thing I know how to fall . . . I had just enough sense not to get a concussion.

- Well, good, but — geez! Why do you think it happened?

- I’m sure it had to do with three hours of photos before the ceremony and no time to eat or even get water.

- Probably!

- Plus I’d driven many hours starting at the crack of dawn . . . couldn’t get off work the night before.

- Where was the wedding?

- Tempe.

- That’s an awful lot to go through . . . no wonder . . .

- Yeah.

- What were you, a groomsman?

- Best man . . . for my cousin Eric.

- Do you like the bride?

- No. She’s Ursula the Sea Witch.

- Deke!

- Well, that’s what she looked like! She wore this strapless black number she was just oozing out of, had her hair piled on top of her head . . . all this dark lipstick . . . plus she’s evil.

- I was expressing shock that you’d seen The Little Mermaid.

- Oh. Yeah. On a date.

- That’s funny — me too!

- So you can picture this sea witch bride . . .

- What’s her actual name?

- Feana.

- That does sound kind of evil.

- See.

- Why’d your cousin marry her?

- I dunno. It all happened so fast, I’m inclined to think she put a spell on him. It’s like he never knew what hit him . . .

- Huh. So what’d they do when you keeled over backward?

- Well, when I fell, like I said, I made sure to go all floppy, which meant my head kind of wobbled on the carpet. So Eric saw this and he yelled out: My god, he’s having an epileptic seizure! He’s got this huge booming voice, which made it sound pretty damn funny . . . which meant I started laughing down there on the floor . . . which just scared him even worse. He thought I was convulsing.

- Poor guy. And what did Fifi do?

- Feana. Or call her Ursula if you want.

- Right. What’d she do?

- She turned verrrrrry slowwwwly, looked down at me . . . and leered.

- Oh!

- Then she said: You okay, buddy?

- In that voice? She even sounds like Ursula?

- I’m telling you. That’s who she is.

- Okay.

- You can take your hands off your mouth and laugh now.

- Only because you’re not hurt! You’re definitely not hurt, right?

- I’m fine, thanks.

- And did you have to stand back up there with them after that?

- No, Eric ran down and kind of guided me to the front pew. They all scooted over for me.

- Good.

- I’ll say — I was next to the flower girl’s mother.

- Oh boy. Let me guess — she was hot and she gave you her number right away?

- Well, not till after the ceremony. . . . Did you just . . . snort?

- No. I never snort.

- I see. There must be a piglet under your barstool.

- Must be.

- Anyway — the drama wasn’t over after my little scene.

- Go on.

- Well, the maid of honor was standing at the top of the steps like I’d been, and of course she hadn’t had any food or water in a long time, either. Plus she was wearing these stilt-like heels, and was weighed down not only by her own huge bouquet, but this massive green monstrosity of the bride’s . . .

- Wait — green? Green flowers?

- Yeah, Feana thinks of herself as a Celtic goddess. At least that’s what Eric says.

- Even though she’s actually a cartoon sea witch.

- Exactly. So this poor little maid of honor is just standing there swaying and tottering at the top of the steps, starting to look all clammy . . . I mean, her skin was almost as green as those flowers.

- Did anyone notice this but you?

- I could see the organist perched on the edge of his bench like this jack-in-the-box. He kept starting to bounce up to go grab her, then he’d sink back down . . . then he’d start to bounce up . . . then, nope, back down again . . .

- Oh my god!

- Meanwhile, the flower girl’s mother was doing the same thing in the pew next to me, because her daughter was turning pale and had started clinging to the maid of honor’s elbow. I can’t believe the kid didn’t bring them both down and set off a row of bridesmaid dominos, ‘cause I swear to God, they all looked like they were gonna keel over, too.

- Did they?

- No, in the end, I have to say the women showed more fortitude than the best man. But it was a close one.

- What about the other guys—the groomsmen?

- Why the hell would I look at them? I don’t know.

- Of course. I asked a stupid question.

- So the ceremony finally ended, and the flower girl’s mother ran out and gave her kid and all the bridesmaids little snacks from her purse after they’d staggered back up the aisle. Then she came back and gave me a granola bar . . . put her arm around me . . . and walked me out.

- Is that when she gave you her number?

- Maybe.

- She didn’t give you her number.

- Think whatever you want, Kalmia . . .

- Well, I hope the wedding got better after that. I mean, you know, in general. I don’t need details. I hope the bride and groom enjoyed their day.

- Oh, it doesn’t matter. They’ll get divorced soon.

- Why, ‘cause they got married so quick?

- No, because I was in the wedding.

- Huh?

- I’m a jinx. Of the five weddings I’ve been involved in over the past ten years, none of the couples are still together.

- Wow.

- Yeah. Eric and Feana—well, I give them a year, tops. Actually, I’m glad Eric asked me to be best man. That ensures he won’t stay married to the sea witch. Maybe he’ll find himself a nice mermaid.

- Maybe I shouldn’t invite you to my wedding.

- Or maybe you should. . . . Was that your stomach?

- Ah. Yeah. Diet sodas make me hungry.

- You only drank, like, a third of it . . .

- I gotta go eat.

Continued in Episode 9: Every Time We Say Goodbye