Marriage Equality, Tuesday, and Fluff Fiction

It is right.
It is right.

I wish I had posted this earlier to show my support. It is here now.

The past couple of days have proven that nothing is ever easy. Whew. I’m skipping Tuesday next week if it’s going to be like this one.

Today, I’m sharing a very short story. It’s what I like to call Fluff Fiction. It’s prose, but I would compare it to the silly, idiotic poetry I like to compose. It’s a keyboard exercise for my fingers.

Try not to laugh..I know. It’s lame. I should have been more tuned to today’s import as I was writing. Ah well…another day.

Thomas’ girlfriend Janna left him at the altar. Well in a manner of speaking. She actually left him standing on an Atlantic beach in South Carolina with his best friend and best woman, his sister Josie. Oh, and incidentally, a crowd of 100 friends and family gathered to see them get hitched.

Thomas, Josie, and friends had been waiting for thirty five minutes. Josie looked up attempting to squash her fidgety nature. At least the weather was cooperating at a balmy 70; very light breezes, sunshine, and a gorgeous display of waves and egrets. The tables and awnings were set for the reception. The flowers were a startling array of red and white and green. It was beautiful.  But, none the less, the bride was missing and Thomas’ looked like a scolded puppy.

Now Josie had a mission.

She was inclined toward justified anger and retribution for the woman what done her brother wrong. However her better judgment allowed that something could have triggered this untoward behavior. Her future sister-in-law appeared to be madly in love with Thomas. She doted on him. But here and now on the lovely April afternoon, she just up and disappeared.

Josie accepted her mission. She tossed off her sandals, hitched up her skirts and flew toward the beach side hotel with an ‘I‘ll be back’ thrown over her shoulder toward Thomas.  She had to find the floozy, uh…free spirited.. Janna and bring her to justice, or more accurately to the altar beach.

She tore through the spa, zipped past the pool, cleared stack of towels with room to spare, took the stairs to the hotel’s back guest entrance two at the time and landed in front of the elevator.

She pushed the button. No way was she going to take 15 flights of stairs and arrive at Janna’s door unable to breathe.

Much toe tapping ensued as she anxiously waited for the elevator. It arrived. Her ascent was marked by only two stops; one for a manager on his own mission and one for an elderly woman going the wrong way. Josie nodded at both politely.

She arrived at the fifteenth floor and found room 1507. She knocked. She waited.

She knocked again. She waited.

She moved very closely to the door, stuck her face up the jamb, and whispered loudly, ‘Janna, it’s me. Open the door.’

She waited. She looked around. Where else could the bitc, uh, woman be?

As she turned to search elsewhere, she heard the click of the deadbolt, then a long pause. She slowly rounded back toward the door and witnessed Janna’s drooping head appear.

‘Is he really mad, Josie?

‘He’s not mad Janna, he’s just confused. Why aren’t you on the beach?’ Josie asked.

Josie traipsed behind Janna into a room tumbled with bridal detritus.

‘I’m not worthy Josie. I can’t torture Thomas for the rest of his life. I just can’t. I’ve been thinking about this all morning.’

‘Geez, you waited till now to consider your worth? Are you nuts?’

Janna looked up with a stricken expression and Josie reconsidered her abrupt comment.

‘I’m sorry. Can’t you just go through with it and then get a divorce later? I mean all these people are here. You might as well give them what they came out for. Who knows, after it’s over you may reconsider and stay married. He does love you.’

‘I love him too!’

Janna’s wail probably echoed through Georgia.

Josie’s patience, in short supply at the best of times, hit bottom.

‘Oh, good grief, then what’s the problem?’

‘Wellllll. Did you see Uncle Al with his belly hanging out of his shirt and all that fake gold around his neck? And Cousin Angel with 2 babies hanging off her boobs?  And my own sister with the greasy-haired punk and the tattoos and pierced nose and eyebrow and..

Josie interrupted.

‘You have a tattoo. I have a tattoo. Thomas even has a tattoo, although a tasteful and discreet one. What’s the deal?’

‘It’s just so embarrassing to have a family that look like rejects from the latest back-ass Southern  country reality show.’

‘Good thing he’s not marrying your family then, isn’t it?’


‘Get your veil Janna. We’re going to a wedding. You’re just skittish. It’s okay.  Let’s do this.’

‘If you think it’s okay, Josie.’

‘Geez Janna. Where’s the go-get-em girl that makes life and death decisions every day. You’re a friggin’ doctor Janna. Get a grip.’

‘Yeah. Right. I am. Yeah. I can do this.’

Josie’s eyes rolled around for a bit and settled on the veil. She grabbed it and Janna’s arm and headed for the door.

‘Wait, my shoes!’

‘You don’t need shoes on a beach Janna. It’s showtime!’

And they ran.

Thirty minutes later Janna and Thomas were pronounced Mr. and Dr. Roswell.

Mission Accomplished.

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