NaPoWriMo (12)

$: Don’t let wedlock intimidate you, son. You’ve just gotta march down that aisle, say a few things, pop the ring on her finger and you’re good to go!

#: Excuse me, old man. Just who do you think you are, and why are you breathing scotch–cheap scotch at that–in my face like that? You’re lucky I respect my elders.

&: Honey, don’t be so harsh on the man, he obviously just wants to see you have a good time at your own wedding. I mean, look at you, you’re stiff as a board!

#: What are you doing here, babe?! We’re getting married in a half an hour!

&: Well, you know how those sitcoms always do the wedding treatment, right? I figured I’d give that a shot. Where did that old wedding mumbo jumbo come from anyway? Shouldn’t it be our decision to celebrate it any way we want to?

#: Jesus. Fine, yes. While we’re at it, we might as well sneak in a quickie and shit all over this sacred day.

&: Wow, wow… that was really harsh. I’m having second thoughts about marrying you if you’re going to have that attitude about it.

#: … what a great day for a full 180°. Fine, go ahead and walk away. I don’t know where you intend on going.

&: I can sense from the edge in your voice that you’re not kidding. Honey, I’m just kidding! Please relax, baby.

$: That’s what I was trying to tell him, sugar.

NaPoWriMo (7)

Negligence costs you,
I always say to my elbows,
the prominence despicable
yet always intriguing–
cows flourish on
grass and sun, take
their grazing seriously.

“Wherever you take me, I hope it’s not too cold there.
My hands have poor circulation, and if they’re bound up
with three feet of rope and stuck into a sixty-five degree room,
I’m likely to lose them for good. That almost happened to me
during my brief POW stint in capture the flag when I was ten.
They bound me up and threw me into the medical trailer, or ‘jail’,
whereupon I proceeded to chatter my teeth and scream for twenty minutes.”

“It’ll be plenty warm where you’re going, bub. Don’t you worry.”